Welsh Rabbit
Let the Welsh tell their own tale in the words of Lady Llanover :- "Welsh toasted cheese and the melted cheese of England are as different in the mode of preparation as is the cheese itself; the one being only adapted to strong digestions, and the other being so easily digested that the Hermit frequently gave it to his invalid patients when they were recovering from illness. Cut a slice of the real Welsh cheese, made of sheep and cow's milk; toast it at the fire on both sides, but not so much as to drop; toast a piece of bread less than a quarter of an inch thick, to be quite crisp, and spread it very thinly with fresh cold butter on one side (it must not be saturated with butter); then lay the toasted cheese upon the bread, and serve immediately on a very hot plate. The butter on the toast can of course be omitted if not liked, and it is more frequently eaten without butter."
It is quite intelligible that one cheese should be more wholesome than another; but that there is any marked difference in digestibility between cheese toasted and cheese melted or stewed, it is difficult to believe.
In case the wandering Englishman should suddenly feel in his travels a sort of home-sickness, and desire to partake of Welsh rabbit, let it be known that in Viard's cookery book, which has a great reputation, the receipt is quite correctly given; and that on this authority the said Englishman may safely call either for Wouelche Rabette, or for Lapin Gallois.
Wheatears, or Fallowchat WESTPHALIA HAMS are exceedingly good-perhaps better than ever they were; but yet, and but yet-they are not what they were. They made a name for themselves in Europe, being hams of the wild boar. They were among hams what game is among other flesh. They are so no longer. They have lost their distinctive quality. It does not follow that they are less to be desired: they are indeed still so good that the Germans eat them raw, and think it a desecration to cook them. This of course implies that they are well smoked, and that they are cooked enough by fumigation.
Lady Llanover's version is the older, plainer thing: a slab of cheese toasted at the fire and laid on crisp bread, with no ale, mustard or roux anywhere near it. The whole dish turns on the cheese being toasted rather than melted into a sauce.
- The hinge: toast, don't meltThe cheese is browned on both sides while still holding its shape, "but not so much as to drop" — the moment it slumps and runs off, you have English melted cheese instead. No thickness is given for the cheese; use a slice thin enough to colour before it slumps, under a hot grill or salamander, and watch it constantly.
- The cheese"Real Welsh cheese, made of sheep and cow's milk" is a farmhouse mixed-milk cheese that has largely vanished as a commodity. A young Caerphilly is the nearest thing in spirit; a firm mature Cheddar toasts more reliably. Avoid anything very high in moisture, which will collapse rather than brown.
- An open fire, or a grill"Toast it at the fire" means direct radiant heat from one side, which is what a domestic grill or broiler element gives. Do not use a pan or an oven — you want the surface to colour before the interior liquefies.
- Bread thinner than you thinkUnder a quarter of an inch, toasted right through so it is crisp rather than merely coloured. Thick modern sliced bread steams under the cheese and goes limp, which defeats the whole texture of the dish.
- Butter, if at allCold fresh butter, scraped on thinly, on one side only. Lady Llanover notes it is more often eaten without. Saturated toast plus toasted cheese is the fat overload she is guarding against.
- The hot plate is not optionalToasted cheese sets rubbery within a minute of leaving the heat. Warm the plates properly and carry the dish straight to the table.
- YieldOne slice of bread and one slice of cheese per person. Scale by the head rather than by weight.
- Ordering it abroadThe French forms Kettner reports from Viard's cookery book — Wouelche Rabette and Lapin Gallois — are period curiosities and will get you nothing but a puzzled look today.
Kettner is quoting Augusta Hall, Lady Llanover, whose Good Cookery Illustrated (1867) framed Welsh dishes through a fictional Welsh Hermit and was part of her broader campaign for Welsh language, dress and food. Her insistence that toasted cheese is a different creature from the English melted or stewed sort is a claim of national distinctness as much as a culinary one, and Kettner's book, written for London readers, quietly declines to accept the digestibility argument. The name itself is unexplained: "Welsh rabbit" is generally traced to a joking usage in which the cheese stands in for meat the poorer household did not have, and the later spelling "rarebit" appears to be a back-formation by people who found the joke obscure. The Westphalia ham note that follows is a separate entry that has run on in the text, not part of the dish.