When I first made Welsh rarebit decades ago, I already knew it was pronounced “rabbit.” Or is it?
If you don’t know, Welsh rarebit is just fancy cheese sauce on toast. Only in the UK . . .
It has been decades since I made it, but I was inspired by NPR’s “Wait Wait, Don’t Tell Me” news quiz show. Each week, they have a “Bluff the Listener” segment, in which the listener has to figure out which of three news stories is real. This week’s topic was “400 rabbits.”
From the show, and probably copyright: “Creating a cozy, communal feeling is a challenge for holiday parties all over the world this year, which is why the Association of Welsh Councils decided to do something special for its 400 members last week. They wanted every council member, selectperson and queen-appointed lord lieutenant in the country to enjoy a savory supper of Welsh rarebit together on a nationwide Zoom call. So they sent hundreds of orders of the traditional cheese toast to individual homes – or at least that’s what they thought.
What actually happened was 400 people each received a live rabbit the day before the holiday party. . . . Someone messed up the order for rarebit, and each rabbit arrived with a note that said, for our holiday party, please heat up in microwave or eat as is.”
Inspiring!
And a bit special to me, because I used some of my homegrown Cheddar:
It’s the usual sauce story, heat the fat, then stir in the flour constantly for a couple of minutes over medium heat until barely browned (2 Tbsp. fat: 2 Tbsp. flour: 1 C. liquid).
Then whisk in the liquid (a can of beer, forgotten in the ingredients pic), and whisk until smooth.
Add all the other ingredients and whisk until the cheese dissolves.
The sauce is very rich, so some pickled vegetables made the perfect foil. A light, delicious lunch.
This started as an experiment of cheddared types. One Lancashire, one Cheshire (https://tiabr.com/cheshire-success/), one Cheddar, all to be aged for a year, which didn’t happen. The Lancashire was a disaster, and I couldn’t wait for the Cheshire, which I cracked open after 10 months. Here is the cheddar, just shy of its first anniversary.
All were clothbound using delicious Mexican pork skin fat:
But the paste is much dryer than I hoped/expected. I had some humidity control problems early in its life, so maybe that’s why. Hard to cut into:
Crumbly . . .
But, you ask, how did it taste?
This was actually very good. Not as sharp as I expected, probably because of the dryness of the paste, but with the depth and complexity of an aged cheddar. So, although it’s not something you’d put into a sandwich, this will be excellent either grated on pasta or in sauces.
This was one of my first Parms. It developed cracks after about a month of cellaring. I may have overcooked the curds, plus I was having humidity control issues back then.
Still, little effort to keep it cellared for a year.