My father, God rest his soul, would provide us with rabbit meat every Easter. Pies, stews and stir-fried by Mom in the most creative ways, we liked the gamey flavor but knew it wasn’t chicken.
My best friend as a kid was French (his parents were both born there but he was born here) and lived across the street from us.They used to keep a bunny rabbit in a cage in the garage.One day,just before Easter,he said "we're gonna have him/her for Easter Dinner this year".Well yours truly,12 years old,was stunned speechless when I heard that.
I found out much later that the French eat rabbits.
Yikes!