How to Cut Up a Rabbit

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Hank Shaw May 19,

2010

Photo by Holly A. Heyser

Butchering a rabbit is a bit harder than cutting up a chicken. In fact, that reason — along
with a higher feed-to-meat ratio, is why America became a nation of chicken-eaters and not
rabbit-eaters, a question actually in doubt a century ago.

Most of the rabbits and hares Holly and I eat are wild cottontails or jackrabbits, although an
occasional snowshoe hare or domestic rabbit finds its way to our table. And it’s a domestic I
decided to work with for this tutorial. They are all built the same.

Incidentally, when you are finished portioning out your rabbit, take a look at my collection
of rabbit recipes. I am betting you’ll find a recipe you like there!

Why butcher your own rabbits? They’re cheaper, sometimes a full $1.50 a pound less than a
pre-portioned bunny. Also, if you are raising your own or are a hunter, this is good
information to know.
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First you need a very sharp knife: I use a Global flexible boning knife, but a paring knife or
a fillet knife would also work, as would a chef’s knife. I also use a Wusthof cleaver and a pair
of kitchen shears. Have a clean towel handy to wipe your hands, and a bowl for trimmings.

Start by slicing off any silverskin and sinew from the outside of the carcass, mostly on the
outside of the saddle.

Photo by Holly A. Heyser

I always start cutting up a rabbit by removing the front legs, which are not attached to the
body by bone. Slide your knife up from underneath, along the ribs, and slice through.

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 Photo by Holly A. Heyser

Usually there is some schmutz (a technical term) attached to the front leg that does not look
like good eats: fat, sinew, and general non-meaty stuff. All can go into pate if you are so
inclined. Or you can toss it.

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 Photo by Holly A. Heyser

Next comes the belly. A lot of people ignore this part, but if you think about it, it’s rabbit
bacon! And who doesn’t like bacon? In practice, this belly flap becomes a lovely boneless bit
in whatever dish you are making. Also good in pate or rillettes.

Photo by Holly A. Heyser

Turn Mr. Bunny over and slice right along the line where the saddle (or loin) starts, then run
the knife along that edge to the ribs. When you get to the ribcage, you fillet the meat off the
ribs, as far as you can go, which is usually where the front leg used to be. Finish by trimming
more schmutz off the edge; if you’re using this part for pate or rillettes, leave the schmutz
on.

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Photo by Holly A. Heyser

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Up next, the hind legs, which is the money cut in a rabbit. Hunters take note: Aim far
forward on a rabbit, because even if you shoot up the loin, you really want the hind legs
clean — they can be a full 40 percent of a gutted carcass’ weight.

Like the Recipe? Buy the Book!

You'll find everything you need to know to master upland game in Hank Shaw's cookbook
Pheasant, Quail, Cottontail.

Start on the underside and slice gently along the pelvis bones until you get to the ball-and-
socket joint. When you do, grasp either end firmly and bend it back to pop the joint. Then
slice around the back leg with your knife to free it from the carcass.

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 Photo by Holly A. Heyser

Once you’ve done both legs, you are left with the loin. It’s really the rabbit loin vs. chicken
breast thing that did it in for the bunny as a major meat animal — there’s a larger swath of
boneless meat in a chicken than in a rabbit. Both have a tendency to dry out, but then
there’s that delicious chicken skin…
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Now is a good time to remove a little more silverskin. The back of the loin has several layers,
and most need to be removed. The final layer is very tough to cut off, and I often leave it. On
a large hare or jackrabbit, however, this layer needs to go, too. Again, this stuff can be
ground and used in pate.

Photo by Holly A. Heyser

You’re now ready to portion the saddle. Ever heard the expression “long in the saddle?” It is
an animal husbandry term: A longer stretch of saddle or loin means more high-dollar cuts
come slaughter time. And meat rabbits have been bred to have a very long saddle
compared to wild cottontails.

Start by removing the pelvis, which is really best in the stockpot. I do this by taking my
cleaver severing the spine by banging the cleaver down with the meat of my palm. I then
bend the whole shebang backwards and finish the cut with the boning knife. Or you could
use stout kitchen shears.

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 Photo by Holly A. Heyser

Now you grab your kitchen shears and snip off the ribs, right at the line where the meat of
the loin starts. The ribs go into the stockpot, too.
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 Photo by Holly A. Heyser

Guess what? There’s more silverskin to slice off. Could you do it all in one fell swoop? You
bet, but it is delicate work and I like to break it up to keep my mental edge: The reason for
all this delicate work is because the loin is softer than the silverskin, and if you cook it with
the skin on, it will contract and push the loin meat out either side. Ugly. And besides, if you
are making Kentucky Fried Rabbit, who wants to eat sinew?

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 Photo by Holly A. Heyser

Your last step is to chop the loin into serving pieces. I do this by using my boning knife to
slice a guide line through to the spine. Then I give the spine a whack with the cleaver or I
snip it with kitchen shears.

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 Photo by Holly A. Heyser

And voila! A bunny cut into lots of delicious serving pieces.

Photo by Holly A. Heyser

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What about the offal, you say? I’ll do more on that later, but suffice to say rabbit livers and
hearts are pretty much like those of a chicken. The kidneys are delicious, too. Remove the
fat (rabbit fat tends to be foul-tasting) and peel the nearly-invisible membrane off the
kidney before cooking.

What to do with your newly portioned rabbit? Well, you could browse through my rabbit
recipes, as I mentioned above, but my favorite recipe is buttermilk fried rabbit. With an
ice cold beer, it is every bit as good as it looks!

Photo by Holly A. Heyser

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