Column: Thoughts on divine numbers, the Easter Bunny and cooking lamb
Rabbits can multiply better than most of the students in my high school class. Their penchant for prodigious reproduction has made them, along with the egg, symbols of fertility and vernal rebirth. Everywhere you go at this time of year, you can see either Easter bunnies or Easter eggs on display at every retail outlet. In fact, the two were linked in German lore of ages past, when legend had an “Easter hare” that would go throughout the woods laying eggs.
Who makes this stuff up? From this comes the “Easter Egg hunt” and other dubious holiday rituals, including the famous “egg roll.” There is an “egg roll” done every year on the White House lawn, which, for me, solidifies the notion that everything our government does is pretty much a “yolk.”
Around the world “egg” traditions range from hanging them on trees (European New Year) to deep fried chocolate eggs (yum!), a Scottish tradition that for some strange reason has yet to take hold here across the pond, although, with the impending demise of the cream-filled cupcake and the Twinkie, I sense a market opportunity! Of course, the Chinese have already combined these traditions with the deep fried egg roll. But I digress.
Back to the Easter Bunny. When I was little, my parents, in an obvious attempt to confuse my brothers and sister and me about the way nature worked, would tell us that the Easter Bunny, just like Santa Claus, would visit our house in the dark of night to deposit colored eggs all around the house, usually behind furniture and flower pots. He would, as well, leave baskets full of candy and life-size chocolate sculptures of himself, nestled in what I fortunately learned at an early age was entirely inedible plastic green grass. So confused was I about the inner workings of a rabbit that I could be seen for days afterwards hunting in the garden for the signs of a rabbit visit, often finding what looked like, but definitely did not taste like, Raisinets.
Fibonacci, a 12th century mathematician, was studying the multiplicity of rabbits when he came up with his famous “sequence,” which has proved to be a fascinating study ever since. The series of numbers is produced by adding each number to the previous in order to come up with the next. The sequence goes like this: 0,1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21,34,55,89,144,233 … you get the idea. Everyone thought that this was just fun with numbers until someone realized that this sequence was demonstrated in numerous zoological and botanical examples. From the smallest (the human ear and a nautilus shell) to the largest (planets’ distances from the sun), Fibonacci sequences are arrayed. A pine cone has its seeds arranged in two sets of co-centric spirals: 5 one way and 8 the other. If you count the spirals in a sunflower head, you’ll come up with 55 one way and 89 the other.
Not only that, if you divide the larger number by the next smaller number anywhere along the sequence, you’ll come up with a ratio of roughly 1 to 1.6, otherwise known as the “Divine Proportion” or the “Golden Mean.” The Parthenon, as well as the humble index card (3X5), are but two of many examples of the use of this mysteriously satisfying rectangle, taught as a tenet of basic design in architectural schools around the world. Fascinating.
Besides giving us a numerical sequence on which we could ponder for 3, 5 or 8 weeks, the rabbit has given the world many other things, most notably food. I like animals. I am an animal lover, but I also like cooking and eating them … well, not everything, but yes, I’ll eat rabbit if presented with the opportunity. In fact, Julia Child, one of my heroes, once said that if it were not for Peter Rabbit and the Easter Bunny, rabbit would be just as much of a staple on American plates as it is throughout most of the rest of the world.
But because the Easter Bunny was so revered in our household, it was definitely not on the menu for dinner on that special Sunday. Roast lamb was the order of the day, which, like the asparagus that accompanied it, was usually horribly overdone. It wasn’t until college that I learned from a classmate, who was of Greek heritage, how to correctly prepare it. This is what he taught me:
Take a semi-boneless leg (one with which only the “aitch” or pelvic bone has been removed) and tie it up. Next, about every inch or two all over the leg, poke holes with a small sharp knife, filling them with a mixture of two parts ground black pepper to one part ground cinnamon. Next, plug the holes with slivers of garlic, then take any remaining spice mixture and mix it with a little lemon juice and rub it all over the meat.
Sprinkle the leg all over with some kosher salt and roast with some carrots, onion and celery at 425 degrees for 30 minutes, and then at 350 until the desired internal temperature is reached, which for me is about 135 to 140 degrees. After removing the lamb from the pan, make a roux by adding some flour to the rendered fat and then a gravy by stirring in some chicken stock to the desired consistency.
So as you celebrate Easter, Passover, Resurrection Sunday or just time with your family, eat well! And if you try the lamb, just leave the mint jelly in the refrigerator!
