Those were the days.
When you could phone out for finely-prepared muskrat and have the delicacy delivered right to your doorstep.
I wrote about that delicious moment in time when I was a reporter with the Detroit Free Press.
A recent Detroit Free Press story about dining on muskrat was way too short to waft the essence of muskrat into the reader’s mouth.
This is the second in a series of posts dedicated to muskrat cuisine and designed to fill an appetite that has gone unsated far too long.
Here, published with permission of the Detroit Free Press, is another of my stories meant to catapult the muskrat from the lowly swamp to the terra firma of haute cuisine.
By Joel Thurtell
This was only a test.
The chef, a florid-faced man with wild, white curly hair, tossed chunks of butter and garlic into a fry pan whose bottom was tickled by a tall blue flame. Next came the piéce de resistance, two chunks of dark brown meat that began to simmer as the cook swished the pan over the fire.
If this had been the real thing, the cook would have needed to have his main dish finished and neatly wedged alongside mashed potatoes, gravy and sauerkraut and delivered to the customer inside 30 minutes to beat the competition.
While the main course was ready – hot in its plastic sealed plate within 10 minutes – the rest of the test was cancelled.
On this particular afternoon there were no orders phoned in to Kola’s Food Factory in Riverview for this particular menu item.
Muskrat.
Or, as proprietor Johnnie Kolakowski put it, “Rats on the run.”
It’s a first for Downriver, or for that matter, anywhere, Kolakowski contends.
Who ever heard of home-delivery muskrat?
And the competition?
Domino’s Pizza for one. Or any other pizzeria that offers delivery.
“The others only do pizza,” notes Kolakowski. “What have we got?” Besides muskrat, he has alligator, perch, shrimp, hamburgers, kielbasa, baby back ribs and other regular offerings.
“The kids can order pizza, but maybe the parents want rat,” said Kolakowski.
The key question, of course, is how far will Kolakowski ship his rats.
Sorry, Grosse Pointers – you’re out of luck, as is Bloomfield Hills.
“All of Southgate, Wyandotte, Riverview, Trenton and maybe Grosse Ile,” Kolakowski said.
“I don’t know what I can do to elevate the rat any higher than this,” declares Kolakowski.
Hey, if it catches on, maybe he’ll open another Food Factory restaurant to serve Woodhaven, Gibraltar and Brownstown Township, says Kolakowski.
And if that’s a go, who knows? Plymouth? Northville? Mackinaw City?
Some might construe that as a warning.
Those who are a bit faint of heart should know that muskrats
are strictly vegetarian.
The taste? A lot like squirrel. The meat is dark and succulent.
Don’t know what squirrel tastes like?
Too bad.
Moving on, this modern convenience of home-delivered muskrat is made possible by Kolakowski’s recent union with Capri Pizza, a company that bakes its pizza in Kola’s restaurant, but offers delivery, too.
To demonstrate, Kolakowski shoves the plastic-sealed plate with the hot and ready to eat muskrat into an insulated pizza delivery bag.
It fits.
So this home delivery of muskrat is, well, feasible.
The service began this week.
The key question, of course, is: Who needs it?
Customers, says Kolakowski. That’s who.
In the past two weeks since the restaurant re-opened after a summer hiatus, maybe two dozen people have ordered muskrat. Not bad, since the rodent is most popular in the winter, especially during Lent.
While the standard rat fare comes with potatoes and kraut, there are other possibilities, in theory.
Why not muskrat benedict?
Not a problem, says Kolakowski. “Instead of ham, you just lift the rat meat off the bones and put it on poached eggs and hollandaise sauce.”
Rat entrees are not new.
Colonial French fur trappers from Quebec introduced muskrat eating to southeastern
Michigan in the 18th century, according to Dennis Au, A descendant of French colo- nists in Monroe County. Au wrote about the French muskrat custom in a 1987 Smithsonian magazine article.
In a paper written for Michigan State University, Au wrote, “More than any other food, muskrat identfies French folk culture in Monroe.”
“The culinary appeal of a good muskrat supper…has spread beyond” Monroe, and at one time reached as far north as Port Huron, Au wrote. In Monroe it still is a major feature of political and charity fundraisers, wrote Au.
Few places serve it today, admits Kolakowski.
The rat was dealt a blow in the late 1980s when state Department of Agriculture officials tried to ban it, saying it could spread giardia lamblia, a nasty intestinal disease. Kolakowski fought back, as did the lte Jerry Bartnik, then a state representative from Monroe County.
According to Au, violence and disruption of life during the War of 1812 prompted many people to rely on muskrat, and there is a tradition that the French settlers appealed to their bishop to allow them to substitute muskrat for fish on Fridays, arguing that because muskrat live in the water, they should be
declared a fish.
In the late 1980s, there were still Monroe people who considered the muskrat a fish and often cooked and ate it, according to Au.
“God bless dee mushrat, she’s a fish,” the oldtimers would declare.
English-speaking settlers derided them as “mushrat French,” while meanwhile adopting the delicacy.
The French generally served muskrat with creamed corn.
Kolakowski’s combination of rat with kraut and potato is more German or Polish.
The key to cooking muskrat is removing the musk sacs from the carcass to reduce the oiliness and gaminess of the meat.
Kolakowski recommends boiling the rat three times, first in salt, then in bay leaves and finally in tomatoes, onions and garlic.
Customers who order rat generally are older people who have eaten muskrat all their lives, or their children who are learning to like it, said Kolakowski.
For all his ebullience about muskrat, the chef is not immune to some ribbing in his own restaurant. As he posed for a picture, holding a stuffed muskrat with its snout aimed at the freshly-cooked entrée, a regular customer wise-cracked, “You gonna feed him?”
“Muskrat to go,” chuckles Kevin Brown, one of Kolakowski’s partners in the pizza/muskrat delivery scheme. “We figure we’ll give the muskrat an address and he’ll make his way there.”
Maybe even muskrat on pizza, wisecracks Brown. Sure thing.
Well, maybe not for sure.
Brown is not about to eat rat.
“I’ve tried a lot of other things, but that one doesn’t hit my palate,” said Brown.
Kola’s Food Factory is at 17168 Fort St. in Riverview. To order your rat, call 734-281-0447.
[Actually, don’t try. Restaurant closed, number no good.]
Contact JOEL THURTELL at joelthurtell(at)gmail.com
