I was up at Nosh the other day and they had lamb shanks on special, which seemed as good a reason as any to cook up a slow-cook Sunday dinner. $12.99 a kilo! Bargain!
I like to make lamb shanks because they’re the one kind of meaty hearty dish my beloved will readily agree to. We are reformed vegetarians, see, and we still don’t eat a great deal of meat – once a week usually, if that. These days, I’m what might be described as a happy, if infrequent, carnivore, but my darling isn’t. I’ve learned, though, that any slow-cooked lamb dish is certain to meet with approval. So we bought some.
The shanks themselves were big. Huge, in fact. Half a kilogram each: more Flintstone food. Normally, I’d braise them in the classical manner – flour them, fry them in a little oil and butter until browned, then cook up celery, carrot and onion, put the meat back in and douse the whole thing with a nice soft red wine, before cooking them for about four hours, turning once an hour or so. I highly recommend this.
But it was Sunday, and I intended to devote most of a rainy afternoon to cooking, so I found this recipe on the very brilliant Saveur magazine website, from Sally Scmidt, who used to own the legendary French Laundry restaurant in Napa Valley. It involves lashings of mint. My favourite herb: how could I resist?
It’s still pretty simple. You zest a lemon, then cut it in half and rub the lamb with the juice. Fry off onions and garlic until the onions are soft, then add the carrots and the celery and cook until they’re hot. Take out the vegetables, then add the meat and a little more oil and butter and fry the meat until brown on all sides: you might need to cook them in batches. That’s okay.
Once they’re all browned, layer the meat in the bottom of a casserole, add the veges and then cover with a lot of mint. Pour over red wine and stock and put in the oven for three to four hours at 170º – I actually did mine at more like 160º.
Here’s what it looked like, moments before I left it to the oven while enjoying some cinema time.
Then, I went out to the movies, since the best part is that you don’t need to turn the meat regularly. Four hours later, I returned, to find that the mixture had sunk a little, which gave a lovely roasted quality to the top parts of the meat, while the rest of it was immersed in the braising liquid.
I mixed through the chopped lemon rind and then served, covered with mountains of mint and mashed potatoes, with a side of Brussels Sprouts. It was hearty and wintery but still zesty from all that mint and lemon and the meat fell away from the bone – you could eat it with a spoon.
There’s still some more in the freezer. I may eat it very soon. After that, I will make it again.