Little Bunny Foo Foo (with Pastis)

Don't be alarmed. I'm making rabbit for dinner.

For those of us raised on supermarket meat sold under saran wrap, I know the idea of eating a rabbit is the equivalent of carving up your Cabbage Patch doll. But once I got past the initial shock of the whole skinned carcasses in the window of my local butcher, I found rabbit creeping into my Paris kitchen on a regular basis. It has a subtle foresty taste and nice meaty texture - so much more enlivening than chicken.

Since we are the only people in Paris not on vacation this month - I decided I would bring a bit of vacation to dinner. I would cook the rabbit with Pastis - the most summer-ish of French aperitifs.

Pastis has a lovely licorice kick, so it seemed only natural, when choosing veggies, to pair it with fennel and the sweetest, narrowest carrots I could find.

While the rabbit was on the stove, I was cutting the tags off of baby clothes, so I can start packing for the hospital. I'm beginning to notice a disturbing trend. When I laid the French items on top of the American ones my mother sent over, I found that the American clothes were about 2 inches wider- not longer, but wider - than their French counterparts. There's a book in here somewhere: French babies don't get fat.

The baby clothes discrepancy points to many others I've noticed during my pregnancy - particularly with regard to weight. The French books I've been given, including the official government handbook, recommend a weight gain of 1 kilo per month - that's 20-22 pounds. Meanwhile, the American books I've read, as well as the Web MD emails I'm receiving in my inbox every week, seem to think that 35 pounds is absolutely normal. Who is right? What is necessary?

I always said I wanted to be pregnant "like a French woman". It's phenomenal, You can't see anything from the back, and up front, they all look like they have a basketball tucked under their shirt. They wear tight little sweaters and low rise jeans that show off their bellies, and polished ballerina flats below their decidedly unswollen ankles.

Now, I'm hardly a French pixie. I come from hearty Russian peasant stock - i.e. what my grandma would politely call "buzooms" and hips designed to give birth in a field, digging potatoes. Yet, so far, I seem to be doing it the French way. Frankly, I can't imagine gaining any more. As it is, I'm running my hands over my stomach everyday, looking for the eject button. I'm carrying around the equivalent of a Butterball Turkey over here.

There is nothing inherently virtuous about French cuisine. To finish off the rabbit, I added a cup full of fresh peas, but I also added 1/4 cup of heavy cream. And while I'm sure there's no 'ideal weight' for a pregnant lady, I'm more and more convinced that my Parisian eating habits help keep things calmly (and deliciously) in line. I can't take any credit. If I was home in NY right now, I'm pretty sure I'd be eating Pillsbury vanilla frosting out of the can.

This is nurture, not nature, at work.

Rabbit with Pastis, Fennel and Fresh Peas

1 rabbit, with liver, cut into 8 pieces
2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons olive oil
Coarse sea salt

2 carrots, coarsely chopped
1 half bulb fennel, coarsely chopped

4-6 shallots, whole or, if large, halved
2 tablespoons Anisette or Pastis

1 cup dry white wine
4 small carrots, halved or quartered lenghtwise

1 additional bulb fennel, cut into large chunks

1/4 cup creme fraiche or heavy cream

1/2 teaspoon cornstarch

1 cup fresh peas

1 handful of chervil, chopped

In your largest frying pan or Dutch oven, heat 1 tablespoon butter and 1 tablespoon olive oil. Brown the rabbit well on all sides; sprinkle generously with coarse sea salt. Remove the rabbit to a plate. Add the additional tablespoon of butter and oil, saute the chopped carrots, fennel and shallots until softened and slightly golden - 5-6 minutes.

Add the rabbit back to the pan, deglaze with Pastis, let sizzle for a minute. Add white wine. Tuck the carrots and fennel in between the rabbit. Bring to a boil, lower the heat, cover and cook for 40-45 minutes, turning once at the 20 minute mark.

Remove the rabbit to a plate, cover with aluminum foil. Add cornstarch to the sauce - stir to dissolve fully. Add cream and bring to a boil; reduce the sauce for 5 minutes. Add the rabbit, peas and chevril to the pan; heat through.

Serve with wild rice.

Serves 4.