Good hare day

In my early days as editor of the Field, I read an article submitted by one of the magazine’s venerable hunting correspondents

In my early days as editor of the Field, I read an article submitted by one of the magazine’s venerable hunting correspondents — the subject was harehunting and a day out with, I think, the Cambridgeshire Harriers — which mentioned that, in the course of the chase, ‘puss clapped’. This slightly disconcerting expression apparently means, in the recondite language of the harehunter, that the quarry stopped and ‘froze’, trying to make itself invisible. I decided that the clap of a puss, so described, was unlikely to assist in expanding the readership of the Field, and that, for aspiring country sportsmen, a hare was and should continue to be called a hare. The hunting correspondent disagreed and retired to his horse box.

Now that the hunting of hares has been declared illegal, there are presumably fewer pusses to be seen clapping in the countryside, and we would do better to concentrate on those that are shot for the pot. A fully grown hare may weigh around eight pounds, but a young animal, of no more than half this size, should be used for most dishes. The saddle provides the best meat (one does two people), and may be simply roasted, covered with butter and strips of bacon, in a hot oven for 40 minutes. A sauce made with the meat juices, redcurrant jelly and sour cream goes particularly well with hare, together with a purée of celeriac and potato.

‘Jugged’ is the word that everyone seems to think of in connection with the cooking of hare. It means no more than stewing in a casserole dish, with the addition of the animal’s blood.