Cruz. You were two months old when I wrote this, which means you couldn't do much except sleep, eat, and occasionally look surprised about being alive. Fair enough. It's a lot to take in.

Your mum lived in Almería before you were born — southern Spain, white houses, serious heat, the kind of place that gets into you. She met your dad there. You ended up with a Spanish name and a London postcode, which is a reasonable outcome for everyone involved.

Gurullos con conejo is from that part of the world. Almería cooking doesn't show off — it's honest, peasant food built from what the land provides: rabbit, olive oil, saffron, a handful of spices that have been used in Andalucían kitchens for centuries. The gurullos are tiny hand-rolled pasta shapes, made from nothing more than flour and water. The whole dish is less than the sum of its parts until it isn't, which is usually how the best things work.

I'm not going to tell you it'll change your life. It's a stew. But it's your stew — from the province where your story started, before you were even in it.

Cook it when you're ready. Take your time with the gurullos.

— Your great-grandad ❤️

The Gurullos

You can buy gurullos dried if you're in Spain — Mercadona sometimes stocks them, and any Almería market will have them. If you're in London, Cruz, you probably can't. Make them. It's not difficult and it's worth it.

• 100g plain flour
• Pinch of sea salt
• Water — enough to bring it together (around 40–50ml)

Mix the flour and salt, add water gradually until you have a firm dough. Rest it for 15 minutes. Then roll small pieces between your palms into tiny rice-grain shapes — about 1cm long. Lay them out on a floured surface. This takes a bit of time. Put some music on.

If you genuinely can't be bothered, broken vermicelli works. I won't tell anyone.

If you turn out to be a vegetarian, Cruz — and stranger things have happened — swap the rabbit for a jar of chickpeas and use vegetable stock instead of chicken. Drain the chickpeas, add them when the stock goes in, and skip the browning stage. It's a different dish but it's still a good one.

The Rabbit Stew - Gurullos con Conejo

Serves 2–3

• 1 rabbit, jointed into pieces
• 1 onion, finely chopped
• 4 garlic cloves, sliced
• 1 green pepper, chopped
• 1 ripe tomato, peeled and chopped
• 1 tsp sweet paprika
• ½ tsp cumin
• ½ tsp dried oregano
• Good pinch of saffron, soaked in a little warm water
• 1 tbsp sherry vinegar
• Olive oil
• Sea salt and black pepper
• 600ml chicken or rabbit stock

Method

Heat a good splash of olive oil in a wide, deep pan. Season the rabbit pieces and brown them properly — don't rush it, don't crowd the pan. Get some colour on them. Set aside.

In the same pan, soften the onion, garlic and pepper over medium heat — about 8 minutes. Add the tomato and let it cook down for another 5. Add the paprika, cumin and oregano, stir for a minute, then add the sherry vinegar and let it sizzle off.

Return the rabbit to the pan. Pour in the stock and saffron water. Bring to a simmer, put the lid on, and cook low and slow for 45 minutes until the rabbit is tender and giving way.

Add the gurullos directly to the stew. They'll absorb the stock as they cook — stir occasionally and add a splash more stock or water if it's getting too thick. About 10–12 minutes and they're done.

Taste. Adjust the seasoning. Eat it with bread and no particular hurry.

If you want rabbit cooked a different way, my Easy RidgeMonkey Rabbit with Green Peppers and Chillies is worth a look — van cooking, one pot, completely different approach.

A note for Cruz

The gurullos will give you trouble the first time. They always do. Make them anyway.

And when you're older, Cruz, I'll show you where the Morrison name comes from — all the way back to Thomas Morisone, Clackmannshire, 1598. It's quite a story. You can find the start of it here.

Find more recipes and food adventures here.
Wonky photos, proper food, genuine adventures — The Flexible Chef