The poor old hare has had its ups and downs
throughout British history. Before I go on, I should point out that
there are two species of hare in mainland Britain (and three in Ireland); the indigenous
mountain hare that ranges across Scotland and Northern England as well as much
of Northern Europe, which turns a beautiful white in the wintertime. The other
species is the brown hare, which was introduced to Britain by the Romans in
farms, called leprosaria, during the
1st century BC. Of course, it wasn’t long before some escaped and
rapidly spread through England and into Wales.
Hares
in Myth, Legend & Folklore
Back in pre-Christian days, Œstre the Pagan
Goddess of dawn, fertility and rebirth had a hare that was her light-bearing
guiding spirit. The hares’ behaviour during springtime – the boxing and leaping
‘Mad March Hares’ – readily associated with the new season. The hare was the
original Easter Bunny – check a good dictionary and you’ll see that the bunny was another word for hare not
rabbit! In fact, the hare that belonged to Œstre laid an egg - the original Easter egg!
Hares can apparently be easily tamed – it is
said that Boudicca, Queen of the Icini tribe, had a pet hare that went with her
everywhere.
However, the reverence was not to last once
those pesky Christians arrived on British shores. The festival of the winter solstice
became Christmas and the festival of Œstre became Easter. The name essentially stayed
the same and several traditions and characters were kept such the Easter bunny
and the celebration of the egg as new life – all to make the change from Pagan
to Christian less of a bitter pill to swallow. However, Œstre herself and her
hare were not treated so well; she became a witch, and the poor hare her
familiar. Superstitions soon arose and it was considered very bad luck if a
hare crossed your path.
Here’s an example found in a great book called
Folklore of Yorkshire by Kai Roberts:
A farmer in a place called Commondale
suspected that a witch called Au’d Molly was shape-shifting into a hare to
steal the milk from his cows in the night. He was instructed to stand guard
with a shotgun armed with silver bullets. However, the wily witch-hare sneaked up
on him, leaping out, giving the farmer such a shock, he turned on his heel and
fled.
Other hares were not so lucky; a witch in Eskdale
was using her hare to gather together and control a mob of hares in order to
wreak havoc in the town. In this case her hare was shot with a silver bullet,
and the witch, at once, ‘flung up her hands as she was carding wool and cried, “They
have shot my familiar spirit!” whereupon she fell down dead.’
Hunting
Hares
Hares were chased – ‘coursed’ – through fields
and caught in nets in elaborate set ups involving houunds. In fact, they were
hunting hounds’ quarries long before foxes were hunted. Today, hunting with
dogs is banned and so they are more commonly shot now, which used to be
considered a terrible crime. Under Norman Forest Law, the hare became one of
the noble beasts that could only be hunted by the King and other gentry.
However, in the late nineteenth century
hares were declared vermin in Ground Game Act of 1880, where hares could be
shot, snared and netted all year round. They had become a problem when modern
farming methods were adopted and a single hare could eat 40 pounds of
vegetation in a week! It became a hare free-for-all. Although they could be shot
any time of the year, they could only be sold between August and February.
The declining hare population was then hit
very hard during the myxomatosis outbreak in the 1970s. The laws created in
1880 still stand today.
Have a look at this previous post that briefly discusses hare conservation.
Have a look at this previous post that briefly discusses hare conservation.
Hare
Recipes
As with the other recipes in the Game
section of the Meat,
Poultry & Game chapter, the entry for hare is brief. Here it is:
roast
(young hare only): lard, jacket of pork fat, 40
minutes per kilo (20 minutes per pound), mark 6, 200⁰C
serve
with:
forcemeat balls, redcurrant
jelly, port wine sauces, e.g. venison sauce.
Click the links to see the recipes already
cooked with older hare.
I had been putting this off after the
disappointing roast #359 Rabbit I cooked a while ago. Plus,
it’s important to get hold of a young hare. To tell if a hare is indeed young,
its ears should tear easily. Of course, all the hares I get are skinned and
headless. However, I did get hold one a small-looking one and assumed that it
was also young.
To prepare the hare, I took to the books and
found some good advice in The Game
Cookbook by Clarissa Dickson-Wright and Johnny Scott and Food in England by Dorothy Hartley. The
advice in both books was to truss the hare, sphinx-like, with string or
skewers. I also larded it with streaky bacon and covered it in a good layer of
back fat and pork skin and followed Jane’s cooking instructions.
When it comes to carving C D-W suggests
slicing the meat from the saddle parallel to the backbone. Hugh
Fearnley-Whittingstall suggests removing the saddle and roasting it alone.
#393 Hare.
Well as much I tried trussing, larding and covering in swathes on fat, the hare
turned out to be as dry and tough of old boots. The flavour was good but
essentially the whole thing was disappointing. The veg, forcemeat balls and
venison sauce were good though. 3/10
