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My Grandmother said "drippings" as mentioned here although she was third generation in USA. My Mother said "drippings" only when she meant the residue that would be used for another cooking procedure. I say "drippings" for the bits left in the pan when I'm making gravy for turkey. So perhaps it's a generational difference as well as Mother County - Colonies thing?
As to rarebit I make mine in a double boiler to prevent scorching.
When a child, I heard rabbit for rarebit! I was appalled anyone would eat a lovely soft cuddly rabbit. I wondered if perhaps Welsh rabbits were not as darling as American rabbits and easier to justify killing. The thoughts that run through a child's mind often remind me of a routine by Robin Williams.
Now, as to quail on toast... wow
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old hand
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old hand
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When a child, I heard rabbit for rarebit!Pretty good, since that's the way it's pronounced. Contaxt is everything, eh? 
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Carpal Tunnel
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that's the way it's pronounced
Interesting, shanks - not in my childhood. It was given a value somewhere between rabbit and rare-bit.
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OP
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What? and risk nightmares?
Actually two ways:
Most people butter one side of two slices of bread. They assemble it as sandwich, with the buttered side out,cheese in the middle and cook in fry/frying/saute pan (or on a flat griddle, or in a sandwich maker) and "toast" flipping it over to cook both sides. It is called amazingly enough--grilled cheese (sandwich) It can be fancied up with bacon, or tomatoes. It is most commonly made with the "plastic" processed American cheese.
For an open face (one slice of bread) sandwich, we'd use a toaster oven. but then it would be a melt-- as in a Tuna melt-- bread with tuna salad, (tuna, chopped veggies and mayo) a slice of tomato, and cheese on top.
There are other melts, but I think tuna is the most common.
A toaster oven would toast the underside of the sandwich (bread) and at the same time melt the cheese.
A toaster oven is about the size of bread box, and it's close to being the #1 appliance in states. i'll look for a site with an picture since Jo didn't have a clue what a toaster oven was. Either it's very american or goes by an other name elsewhere. (and welsh rabbit -- what do they call melted cheese sandwiches in Wales?)
An american cheese sandwiches are really goo-ey cheese encased in two slice of bread. They are not really melted cheese (a la fondue) poured over toast (points) which is how welsh rabbit is portrayed in american cookbooks.
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Carpal Tunnel
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But grease as a noun would only apply to mechanisms for us
Just backtracking here a bit, fisk - because re-reading your post has got me (half-)remembering the Shakespeare line about "Greasy Joan doth keel the pot..". Can't get much more this second, apart from Marion's nose being red and raw - but I realised this stuck way back in childhood for me as an image of grease = yuk for food. Of such fragments whole language edifices are built...?
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veteran
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I believe the "stuff strained out" of schmalz is called gribeness (all short vowels), which, like schmalz, is a Yiddish word, which opens up a whole new world to explore. There are lots of Yiddish words and expressions used in US English by Goyim as well as Jews.
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veteran
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Chickens in the USA are quite different from what they were not very long ago. In fact, the universal use of the word chicken and no other for that genus of poultry is new; you used to hear "hen" a good bit, but no more. In the olden days (up to maybe 25 years ago) you could still buy, cheap, a "stewing hen", an old one which had outlived its usefulness as a layer and which would be tough and scrawny, therefore sold to be stewed. They have totally disappeared now. When you go to the market now, you have a choice of a roaster, which is usually 4 to 7 lbs. in weight; and a broiler, which is a younger bird and smaller, maybe 2 to 4 lbs. Of course, they keep getting bigger and bigger. Back in the 70's, when we had 3 sons to feed and wanted a 6 lb. fowl, we had to buy a capon.
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I believe the "stuff strained out" of schmalz is called gribeness i think your right-- it was a food i knew of, but never had... (it was too much of "family treat") my Jewish friend where appalled at my eating habits– so much trayf! in our house, the best dinners were roast of beef, and "please can I have some of the blood" the juices that drained from the rare cooked meat were the best treat! needless to say such an request would not have played well in the jewish deli– the only delis that sometimes had a fresh hot, roast of beed to slice for a sandwich. one had to go to the German deli for rare roast beef as a "cold cut" but the didn't deli's didn't serve the blood, cold meat didn't offer any.(still rare meat is juicier than well done meat) The Italian deli's cooked the beef well done too, and spiced it.-- not how i wanted it! Jewish friends could understand that I had no injunction against pork– but blood!   I was at a bar (a good Irish bar) for a party, and as the waiter sliced the roast, I looked about and asked "do you have a spoon, can you server me some of the blood?" The waiter looked up, saw my blue eyes, rosy cheeks and pug nose, and said "ah an irish lass!" ( he also kindly found a spoon.. it wasn't that long ago, and "Lass" is a real stretch!) I learned a good deal of culture and geography from local store keepers. Luckily, my neighborhood had a wonderful ethnic mix– bakeries as well as deli's came in ethnic varieties, only more– Greek and French as well as Italian and Jewish. the french made the best butter pastries, the italian's had wonderful things with nuts and cremes made with cheese, but you went to the jewish bakery for bread.. Prejudice in our house was directed to styles of cooking–"buy some bread– but don't go to the italian bakery– their bread is no good!" all the shops decorated the wall of their shops with maps, and pictures of their homelands. Or had special treats for saints days I had never heard of or holidays I didn't know of– Purim is still "hamintashes" to me– It was a wonderful education– not only is all my taste in my mouth– but half my education came that way!
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My lifelong love affair with good food has a precise beginning. My family background is Pennsylvania Dutch (i.e., German) on both sides. I grew up in Harrisburg PA during the 1940's and early 50's. Our diet was the typical Germanic meat and potatoes one with occasional forays into fancy items like canned asparagus (ugh). Harrisburg was an unbelievably provincial place then; everybody we knew was just like us, and we knew no Catholics, Jews, coloreds, or any other ethnicities. My parents, however, were pretty open-minded; they just didn't get any opportunities to try meeting new people, my mother having plenty to do with a slew of children. My father, since he worked for the railroad, did meet a lot of different people.
One evening, I guess around 1945, he came home and announced that we were having company for dinner; that they were Italian, and that they were going to bring food and cook it for us. Dolores and Sam, God bless them, arrived with the makings of a traditional antipasto, which was promptly laid out in intricate detail on a large platter, and knocked our socks off, since we had never imagined that food could be a delight to the eye as well as to the palate. But the tour de force was spaghetti and meatballs. When I tasted it, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. There had never been anything so delicious. And different -- we had never before eaten anything made from cooked tomatoes, we only ate tomatoes raw. Spaghetti and meatballs is now considered hopelessly old-fashioned and fake Italian, but I don't care -- 50 years later it's still my #1 favorite meal. From then, I've been trying out every cuisine and ethnic food imaginable and have had a wonderful time doing it, even if I have to sacrifice to get the lard off every so often. At the same time, I still have a fondness for Pa.Dutch foods as well, although they are getting harder all the time to get and making them yourself is a pain.
I also recall vividly the evening in 1956, after we had moved to Bucks County PA, my father taking us all for a ride to the Italian section of Trenton NJ to try out a new food which we had never heard of but which was then all the rage, called a "tomato pie". We couldn't imagine a pie made with tomatoes, but when we tried it, we liked it very much. It later became known as a "pizza."
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Carpal Tunnel
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somewhere between rabbit and rare-bit
The story as I got it was that it was called Welsh rabbit because the Welsh were too poor to afford real rabbit. This was a joke since the standard method of getting (not cooking) rabbit would be to poach it. The rarebit variation would be from a misunderstanding of the joke. Since there is no rabbit in the dish it couldn't be Welsh rabbit and must have been rarebit misheard. In my youth it was a cheese/egg mixture scrambled and served over toast. The classic recipe uses beer but we were a largely non-drinking household.
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