Lying for lambs- Taste Scene

“I don’t want to eat the baby lamb,” Anna affirmed, wrinkling her be-freckled nose.

“It’s not lamb, it’s beef,” I lied.

“You told Mam that it was lamb.”

“I lied,” I lied again. “It’s really tasty, see.” I popped a sliver of the succulent meat into my mouth and mmmm-ed for emphasis. “Here,” I held out another morsel.

Reluctantly, Anna took the proffered meat but stopped short of putting it in her mouth.

“Go on,” I encouraged.

MMMMMmmmmm,” she said, a little wide-eyed on first bite. “That beef is soooo good.”

“It’s lamb,” I corrected.

“You lied to me!” Affront.

“I know, right. But it’s soooo good.”

The leg of lamb was better than good. In fact it was magnificent and it all the better seeing as how I didn’t pay a penny for it.

On Friday evening, a friend landed at the door brandishing the huge leg; Jason had picked it up on offer for a paltry £2 at one of our local supermarkets.

“He shoots, he scores,” he remarked.

The downside (if it could be called a downside) was that the lamb was turning the use-by corner and as such, had to be cooked that very day.

“No bother to me,” I assured him. “I have just the recipe.”

And I did. Leg of lamb with anchovies, garlic and rosemary is my go-to recipe any time a friend turns up at the door on a Friday with 2 kilos of free meat. I say it’s a ‘recipe’ but it’s so easy it can hardly be qualified as such.

First encountered in Simon Hopkinson’s ‘Roast Chicken and Other Stories’ (as fine a cookbook as has ever been written), I have made various variations of this dish over the past ten years and, though I might only have it once a year, it never gets old.

“When it comes to good food smells, this is one of the best, because as you slice the lamb, the waft of garlic, rosemary and anchovy hits you head on,” Simon explains in the book. And he’s not wrong. The smell in the house when this roast is in the oven is almost beyond description. Let’s just say, it’s akin to inhaling music.

INGREDIENTS

1 two-kilo leg of lamb (or something similar)

2 tins of anchovies in olive oil

small bunch of rosemary

4 or 5 big cloves of smoked garlic

50g of soft butter

big pinch of dried sage

lots of freshly ground black pepper

half a bottle of white wine

1 lemon

THE PLAN

Pre-heat the oven to 225C and as that’s happening prep your ingredients.

Peel and quarter the cloves of garlic. Open the tins of anchovies and drain one of these into the soft butter, the oil from the other can be discarded.

Place the lamb in a casserole dish or roasting tin and with a sharp knife, make at least a dozen incisions on the meaty side of the leg, going in a good inch.

Into these holes, stuff a slice of garlic (or two), an anchovy and a sprig of thyme, pushing everything in with your pinky.

Next, add the sage to the butter with any remaining anchovies (chopped) and a lot of freshly ground black pepper. Mush this up with a fork to mix and then smear and rub this all over the leg, pushing some butter into the holes as you go.

Half the lemon and squeeze the juice all over the leg and then pour the half bottle of wine into the dish to form a sort of moat around the leg. Tuck the squeezed lemon halves in under the meat and any left over sprigs of rosemary.

Retire to the oven – uncovered – and let it rip for 15 minutes before turning the heat down to 160C. Let it rip for another hour and a half basting every twenty minutes or so.

Allow the meat to rest for at least 20 minutes before cutting off that first slice, delighting in the aroma and if necessary, lying to your family.

The next day – Saturday – I delivered half of the slices to Jason but only after I ate one of the most memorable brunches in recent history. I usually make sourdough bread on a Saturday and at the time, I was feeding my starter. However, instead of chucking the discard I fried this up, topped it with coleslaw, shredded lamb, smoked harissa and chilli oil. It’s the pancake you can see in one of the photos. It was so good as to be emotional. I almost cried.

At the time of writing (Sunday evening) I have several slices remaining in the fridge. Although, I know that if I am to have them for myself, I’m going to have to lie again and perhaps say it’s dog meat. There’s NO chance the little humans will eat dog.

In fairness, I probably wouldn’t either.

Probably.