Dissonance is necessary around Easter. Fluffy lambs and chicks are everywhere: on cards and decorations, in countless chocolate forms and adorning every Easter-adjacent craft, toy or activity. But, of course, we also traditionally serve roasted lamb or chicken on Easter Sunday. In some part, this is simply seasonality. We associate gambolling lambs and new chicks with spring. But that apparent seasonality is also something of an untruth: lamb, particularly, is not actually in season at Easter.

I know, I know, as soon as the days start to brighten, our green and pleasant lands are filled with sentient woolly fluff wobbling about on little legs. But those cartoon-like lambs are far from ready for market. Traditionally-reared British lamb is born in the spring but is not fully grown until autumn. It’s possible to circumvent nature’s plans but this is done by either indoor-rearing or importing the lamb – mostly from New Zealand. Lamb at Easter may feel like a sustainable choice that supports British farming but the truth is a little more complicated.

Conversely, rabbit is a very sustainable meat to eat and available year-round. Which is why I don’t feel completely mad suggesting this fluffily confronting alternative for your Easter celebrations.

While rabbits are abundant in the British countryside, they are far less frequently seen on our dining table. If rabbit is so sustainable, then why aren’t we eating more of it? It was this wealth of rabbit that led to its falling out of fashion. Its native abundance and the ability to rear it cheaply in small domestic settings meant that during the second world war, it wasn’t rationed and was an obvious choice to supplement meagre meat rations. But, in turn, this meant it became inextricably associated with wartime rationing, austerity and a dearth of choice. When the war and rationing were finally over, people didn’t want to return to the dishes which reminded them of harder times, even if the result were more delicious than powdered egg or the national loaf. Unlike the British, the French continue to love rabbit. Chef and food writer Rowley Leigh attributes this to their romanticisation of past, leaner times and a reverence for working-class cuisine – unlike the British who feel embarrassed by both. Whatever the reason, rabbit as a dish thrives in France.

Rabbit is sustainable and available year-round, which is why I don’t feel mad suggesting it

Lapin à la moutarde – rabbit in a mustard sauce – is probably my favourite way to eat rabbit. Painted with mustard, the rabbit is browned and flavoured with all sorts of good things before it is braised slowly with wine and chicken stock and finished with a generous glug of double cream. It feels and tastes like true French country cooking: using the whole rabbit, much of it still bone-in, and cooking it in a way that is sensible to the lean type of meat it is. Unsurprisingly, the combination of mustard and cream, deepened and enlivened with aromatics and bacon, is perfect for the sweet, mildly gamey, meaty rabbit. The sauce should be spoonable and poured generously over the top of the rabbit.

We live in an age where you are only a click or two away from a video that will show you how to do anything and a visual guide can be very helpful if you’re a beginner to portioning bone-in meat. But here’s a brief primer for jointing a rabbit (it’s easier than jointing a chicken). First, cut through the muscle between the shoulders and the ribcage. This will let you detach the two front legs. For the back legs, find the hip joint and flex so that the ball pops out of the socket. Cut into the skin to expose the detached joint and then cut through it to release the legs. Cut around the ribcage, dispose of it and slice the saddle meat into two. This will leave you with four legs, bone-in, and two boneless pieces of saddle. Trim off any particularly gristly bits. Voilà, a jointed rabbit!

So, this Easter, why not give something different a go? Hold off on the lamb for a few more months, switch to something a little braver than roast chicken and discover the delights of rabbit.

Serves: 4
Hands-on time: 20 minutes
Cooking time: 1 hour

• 60g mustard (for me it has to be Dijon)
• 1 wild rabbit, jointed (see above)
• 50g butter
• 1 tbsp oil
• 100g white wine
• 100g smoked lardons
• 2 echalion shallots, finely diced
• 3 cloves garlic, finely diced
• 1 tbsp rosemary, chopped
• 20g plain flour
• 500g chicken stock
• 100g double cream

1. Cover the rabbit pieces in most of the mustard (leave a tablespoon for later) and refrigerate for four hours or overnight if possible.
2. Preheat the oven to 160°C/140°C fan. Melt the butter in a large, heavy-bottomed pan over a medium heat and add the oil. Add the rabbit pieces and cook until browned all over.
3. Deglaze the pan with the white wine, letting it bubble down, then set the rabbit and pan juices to one side.
4. Brown the lardons over a medium heat, then reduce the heat to low and soften the shallots and garlic. Stir the rosemary and flour through the mixture, cooking for two minutes, then add the stock.
5. Return the rabbit and juices to the pan. Bring the mixture up to a simmer, place the lid on the pan, and cook in the oven for one hour.
6. Stir the cream into the cooked casserole and bubble away for a couple of minutes. Adjust the seasoning and add mustard to taste – about a tablespoon should give a sharp kick. Serve hot.