November 08, 2009
Leg of Lamb Boulangere
Filed under: The Black Arts
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I've diced leg of lamb to make souvlaki and shish kebab. I stabbed the fuck out of myself with kitchen scissors (now ritual scissors) when reducing a shoulder of lamb. I've marinated lamb neck fillets in a paste of thyme, garlic, salt, pepper and olive oil for homemade soup. I casseroled a shoulder of lamb in tomatoes and spices all night long in a low oven, roasted lamb bones for the rats as a treat and gathered the rendered fat from the bones for cooking. I've reduced two pounds of leg of lamb into a near fine paste to make an authentic doner kebab. I've diced, sliced, skewered, grilled and casseroled but I've never - despite my frequent forays into the culinary world - roasted lamb until last night.
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I saw it over a month ago at the meat counter. It was sitting by itself - a vacuum sealed wallflower - amongst the special offers. There was little love for the leg of lamb, it had already been "reduced to clear" twice. The decision was made even before I realized I had reached a decision. Before I knew it the £10.00 leg of lamb was tucked underneath an arm like a folded up newspaper.
"I JUST MADE THIS GROCERY TRIP MORE EXPENSIVE," I informed Italics, brandishing the clearanced leg like an expensive bottle of wine; there was palatable excitement in the air. (ACTUALLY, NO THERE WASN'T, BUT IT SOUNDED LIKE A GOOD PARAGRAPH END.)
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Within days of cramming the leg into the freezer ("FOR LATER!") I found THE recipe while reading the Sunday Times. (About the only thing I DO manage to read - other than cookbooks - is the Sunday paper, and if I manage to get to THAT in a timely manner (as in, the week it was published in) it's deemed a miracle by the Vatican.)
"WE'RE HAVING //THIS//," I announced, tilting the supplement magazine in Italics' direction so he could see the recipe's accompanying photo. "NOW TO FIGURE OUT WHEN..."
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Lamb Boulangere, a seasoned leg of lamb smothered with a fresh herbal butter and then roasted directly over wafer thin slices of thyme studded potatoes (basting them with cooking juices, dripping herbal butter and glorious beads of lamb fat). The absolute BEST part? With an exception of the time needed to produce translucent-thin slices of potatoes there wasn't anything else overtly complicated or time consuming - perfect for the super high novice leg of lamb roaster.
The second absolute best part? (YES, THERE CAN BE TWO ABSOLUTE BEST PARTS.) Some serious hands on loving was required (my favorite sort've cooking!). After stabbing (or "cutting", if you aren't a wild animal savage like me) the leg of lamb and rubbing in the salt and pepper seasoning you needed to firmly massage the freshly made herbal butter (garlic, rosemary and lemon thyme) into every nook, crevice and cranny of the leg until it's coated in a glistening sheen of dairy fat heaven. (When food requires a handjob, you know it's going to be worth the effort.)
By partial candlelight - just after one in the morning - I began rhythmically easing my knife down on pungent rosemary leaves, releasing its cleansing, green scent in the air. By one thirty in the morning the leg of lamb had received its full handjob massage and was relaxing on its wire rack, waiting to be placed directly above the roasting pan of potatoes.
By two the lamb and potatoes were formally introduced, by three the house smelled like lemon thyme and butter, by four Italics and I were hovering over the roast like kids on Christmas morning (ITALICS: "IT LOOKS BETTER THAN THE MAGAZINE PICTURE!") and by five I was having an orgasm brought on by my first stimulating brush with boulangere potatoes and roasted leg of lamb.
Our dining experience? It bordered on //spiritual//. (Oh, honey, it was that effing good.) It took me nearly ten minutes to coherently compose myself. And once the smoke cleared, once my thighs stopped trembling, once the golden, magic spell of creamy-divine-melt-in-your-mouth-sunshine-of-the-gods loosened its hold on me all I could manage to say was:
"YOU KNOW HOW WOMEN SOMETIMES SAY THEY HAVE A RECIPE THAT THEY'LL MAKE TO GET LAID? FORGET GETTING "LAID"; I'D MAKE THESE POTATOES TO GET FUCKED." (Homemade panna cotta or creme caramel is for making love; boulangere potatoes is for primitive, animalistic, primal fucking.)
A French classic, this. The flavour from the meat drips deliciously onto the potatoes below.
MEAT:
* 2.5kg leg of lamb, on the bone
* Salt and pepper
* 2 stalks rosemary, leaves only
* 2 bushy stalks thyme, leaves only
* 50g butter, softened
* 3 large cloves garlic, crushed
POTATOES:
* A couple of knobs of butter
* 2 medium onions, thinly sliced
* 1.5kg maincrop potatoes, peeled and thinly sliced (use either a mandolin or the slicing blade of a food processor, otherwise it’s a bit of a faff to get them thin enough)
* 4 bushy stalks thyme, leaves only
* 250ml-400ml chicken stock
* 2 bay leaves
METHOD:
Heat the oven to 200C/400F/Gas Mark 6. Arrange two oven racks one above the other. The lower one needs enough space to fit a roasting tin, the upper one enough for your leg of lamb.
With the tip of a sharp knife, make about 20 cuts in the skin side of the lamb. Season well on all sides. Finely chop the herb leaves and mix into the butter with the crushed garlic. Using your hands, smear the butter all over the skin of the lamb and the meaty end of the joint, working it into the crevices and cuts. Put to one side while you get on with the potatoes.
Use a knob of butter to grease a roasting tin that’s large enough to fit under your leg of lamb. Melt another knob of butter in a saucepan, then add the onions and a pinch of salt. Stir together, cover and cook for 5-10 minutes, until the onions have softened. You don’t want them to brown, just wilt.
Layer the potatoes and onions in the buttered roasting tin, sprinkling each layer with thyme leaves and seasoning well. Start and finish with potatoes. You’ll probably only need one other layer of potato in between. Pour over enough stock to come just below the surface of the potatoes. Press the potatoes into place and throw the bay leaves on top.
Put the potatoes on the lower shelf of the oven and position the lamb on the rack above. Cook at 200C/400F/Gas Mark 6 for 20 minutes, then turn down the heat to 180C/ 350F/Gas Mark 4 and cook for 1 hour 15 minutes to 1 hour 40 minutes, depending on how well done you want it. If the potatoes look like burning before the lamb is done, cover them loosely with a sheet of foil. When the lamb is cooked, remove it from the oven and allow to rest for at least 20 minutes.
You may want to tip off a bit of the excess fat from the potatoes. If for any reason they aren’t brown, turn the oven back up to 200C/400F/Gas Mark 6 and leave them in while the lamb is resting; otherwise, switch the oven off and leave them in to keep warm. Serve the lamb on top of the potatoes.
Recipe Source: The Sunday Times
PS: I'm hoping that by some point this winter there'll be a drastic improvement in the quality of my cooking pictures. The majority of my V. SRS COOKING happens when we're up in the middle of the night, which isn't an awesome time to take pictures when all you have are a few eco-friendly fluorescent tubes for lighting. Fingers crossed that by the new year I'll have managed to construct the cardboard photo light box I've mentioned so many damn times in passing.
