Hasenpfeffer — A Slow Braise for the Weeks That Ask Something of You

Karen's birthday is this week. She turns sixty-eight on Friday. I drove out Saturday with James to do an early celebration — Sunday lunch at the Bellevue house, a small one, just me, James, David, Karen, and Rosa (Karen insisted Rosa come as a guest). I made soondubu jjigae, which Karen has become genuinely fond of (she once said, "It's like hot milk, in a good way"), and a soft-boiled egg rice bowl, and a steamed fish Rosa had recommended. Karen ate most of the fish. She ate half the soondubu. She cried twice during the meal, once because she was happy and once because David cut her food without asking and she felt frail. I held her hand. Rosa, who sees Karen every day now, said gently, "She is having good week. Let us enjoy." Karen squeezed my hand and said, "I am. I am having a good week."

This is the thing I am learning about progressive illness: the weeks are the weeks. Some good, some bad. Karen's birthday was good. I will hold it without trying to preserve it in amber. I will let it be a good day. Tomorrow's weather is tomorrow's weather.

James and I are deep in wedding logistics. The invites went out last week — we had them designed by a friend of James's from his MBA program, a graphic designer who made us a pair of linen-paper cards in cream with a thin gold line border, our names in a typewriter font. Karen cried when she got hers. Ming called to say the design was beautiful. Jisoo's, which we mailed via the agency, will take longer to arrive.

Jisoo wrote this week about the March call. She is nervous in the same way I am nervous, which is strangely comforting. She said she had practiced what she wanted to show me in her kitchen. She said she had bought new rice and a small jar of doenjang that she wants me to see, because she said the brand matters. I said, "Tell me the brand. I will buy it too." She sent me a photo of the jar — Sempio, the red label with the traditional pottery illustration. I ordered a jar from H Mart. It should arrive Friday. I want to have it on my counter during the call. I want her to see that we are cooking from the same jar.

Work: the Q1 launch is in its second phase. The feature is rolling out to more regions. The metrics are good. I had one technical incident on Wednesday — a latency spike in one of our NLP endpoints — that I debugged into the night and fixed by 11 PM. That is the Amazon I fell in love with: the emergency that requires actual code. The rest of Amazon I can take or leave.

Dr. Yoon on Monday: we did a final prep session for the call. She said, "Remember: this is a cooking lesson, not a reunion. Just a Saturday morning with your mother. That is the frame." I said, "Okay." She said, "Eat something before the call. Low blood sugar will make you cry more." I laughed. I will eat something. She is an engineer about emotion in the way I am an engineer about code — there are always variables to tune.

The recipe this week is soondubu jjigae, Karen's version. Karen's version is the regular version but with less chili oil — I told her the bright-red level was not mandatory, that I could scale it down. She said, "Good. My mouth can't do what it used to." I halved the gochugaru. I kept everything else. It is still, I think, the soondubu of Korea. I have also learned, this year, that recipes are flexible. Tradition is not violated when you halve the chili for your sick mother. The dish is the dish. The love is the dish.

I have been thinking, since Karen’s birthday lunch, about what it means to cook something slowly on purpose — to choose a recipe that requires you to stay near the stove, to tend it. The soondubu came together in under thirty minutes, which was right for that Sunday. But the week that followed asked for something with more time in it, something that rewarded patience the way the good days reward you when you stop trying to hold them too tightly. Hasenpfeffer is that kind of dish: a long braise, wine and vinegar and warmth, the kind of cooking that fills a kitchen with a smell that says someone is home and paying attention. I made it for James on Thursday. We ate it slowly.

Hasenpfeffer

Prep Time: 20 minutes (plus overnight marinade) | Cook Time: 1 hour 30 minutes | Total Time: ~2 hours active | Servings: 4

Ingredients

• 1 whole rabbit (about 3 lbs), cut into 8 pieces
• 1 cup dry red wine
• 1/2 cup red wine vinegar
• 1 medium yellow onion, thinly sliced
• 2 bay leaves
• 8 whole black peppercorns
• 4 juniper berries, lightly crushed
• 3 sprigs fresh thyme
• 1/4 cup all-purpose flour
• 1 tsp kosher salt
• 1/2 tsp freshly ground black pepper
• 2 tbsp unsalted butter
• 1 tbsp neutral vegetable oil
• 1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
• 1/2 cup full-fat sour cream
• 2 tbsp fresh flat-leaf parsley, chopped

Instructions

1. Marinate. Combine red wine, red wine vinegar, sliced onion, bay leaves, peppercorns, juniper berries, and thyme in a large bowl or zip-top bag. Add rabbit pieces, making sure they are well coated. Cover and refrigerate overnight, or for at least 8 hours.
2. Prep the rabbit. Remove rabbit pieces from the marinade and pat thoroughly dry with paper towels. Set aside the marinade liquid and the marinated onion slices in separate bowls. Discard the bay leaves, peppercorns, juniper berries, and thyme sprigs.
3. Dredge. Whisk together flour, salt, and black pepper in a shallow dish. Lightly dredge each rabbit piece in the seasoned flour, shaking off any excess.
4. Brown the rabbit. Heat butter and oil together in a large Dutch oven or heavy-bottomed pot over medium-high heat. Working in batches to avoid crowding, brown the rabbit pieces on all sides, about 3 to 4 minutes per side. Transfer browned pieces to a plate and set aside.
5. Soften the onions. Reduce heat to medium. Add the reserved marinated onion slices to the same pot and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened and lightly golden, about 5 minutes.
6. Deglaze and build the braise. Pour in the reserved marinade liquid and the chicken broth. Use a wooden spoon to scrape up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Return all browned rabbit pieces to the pot and nestle them into the liquid.
7. Braise. Bring the liquid to a boil over medium-high heat, then reduce to low. Cover tightly and simmer for 1 hour to 1 hour 30 minutes, turning the rabbit pieces once halfway through, until the meat is very tender and pulling away from the bone.
8. Finish the sauce. Transfer rabbit pieces to a serving platter and tent loosely with foil. Remove the pot from heat and allow the braising liquid to cool slightly for 2 minutes. Stir in the sour cream until fully incorporated and smooth. Return rabbit to the pot and heat gently over low heat for 3 to 4 minutes — do not allow it to boil, or the sour cream may break. Taste and adjust salt and pepper as needed.
9. Serve. Spoon generously over buttered egg noodles or mashed potatoes. Garnish with fresh parsley.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 415 | Protein: 44g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 570mg