Lamb and beans stew for the lazy

Lamb stew and cranberry basmati

Lamb stew is possibly the only thing we can get away with when we have chunks of lamb in the freezer. Fortunately, it’s one of those easy dishes you can put on while you get on with the weekly chores of hoovering and the damn laundry. And doubly fortunately, it’s a very forgivable dish: you can throw anything you’ve got in the store cupboard in without too much guilt about not spending hours washing, blanching, cutting, prepping. The only prep step involved is remembering to get the lamb out of the freezer the night before. Left in the fridge, it defrosts better than in the microwave, where it tends to get cooked instead.

Brown the cubes of defrosted lamb over a high heat in some olive oil (or whatever oil you like; low sat fat is our preferred frying agent). Throw on a generous pinch of lamb-friendly spices when the lamb is browned all over. The North African/Middle Eastern baharat1 blends are always good for lamb stew (thanks to Phoenicia in Embra’s George Sq for that lesson), but since I’ve used up my home-made NA/ME baharat, I made do with some garam masala, which is almost the same thing except to purists I suspect. At any rate, whatever spice you want to use, it’s usually best to dry-fry it first to give it a slightly charred flavour like you’ve been slaving over a charcoal stove all day, or to release the aromas as most cooks would say. To be honest, I do it because it makes my flat smell good. And makes my neighbours think I’m a genius cook.

This is where the recipe gets a bit complicated. First, open the doors to your cupboard filled with dry goods and canned food that will last a nuclear blast. If it’s empty, resign yourself to fried spiced lamb. If you’re as crazy as I am, there’ll be countless cans and tetrapacks of a variety of tomatoes and beans in there. Depending on how lazy you’re feeling, get out the tin of plum tomatoes and chop them, or just snip open the pack of Parmalat chopped tomatoes, bought just for such occasions. Apply to lamb in oven-proof dish. When that’s done, open your choice of canned pre-cooked beans (haricot in this instance). Chickpeas (USA=garbanzo), haricot (USA=navy), cannellini, flageolet and borlotti are my faves for meat stews. Rinse and apply drained product to lamb.

If you’re all organised, you’ll have turned the oven on when you started browning the lamb. If we’d started this in the late afternoon instead of traipsing miles with the dog to get her monthly $100-worth of food and treats, we’d have stuck the oven on at 150ºC and left the lamb in there for ~3 hours. Being late, the lamb went in for 30 min at 180ºC (350ºF) just the get the whole thing hot and bubbly, and was later turned down to 150ºC (300ºF) for a further hour. Since the chores took longer, the lamb stew sat longer too: ~2 hours, and was probably better for it.

If we had potatoes, I’d have thrown some in for a one-pot meal. But they don’t keep so well here, so we keep rice, noods and pasta as the starchy standbys instead. Basmati rice was chosen to make fake “polo” with dried cranberries. These delightful cranberries were Trader Joe’s version infused with orange, which really helps to achieve that fruity polo effect.

And as you can see, I licked the plate clean:

Licked clean

The Wine2

Dithering about which wine to have, we eventually settled on the 2005 Paso Robles Barbera3 from Eberle. I say “we” because there was a bit of “discussion” as to which of our too-many wines would go well with the stew. It’s easier when you only have one red and one white in the house. At any rate, we were doubtful that the P.Noir (silly name) would live up to the strong lambiness of the stew, a Sangiovese would be too soon after its outing earlier this week, and the Zinfandels we had would be too spicy. A mildly-spicy Barbera would be able to hold its own against the tomato and lamb. Ah, there we were wrong,. The Barbera out-competed the lamb stew. It was, perhaps, too young, high in alcohol and left a very strong sensation of pepper in the mouth. We’d spiced the stew quite delicately and chosen an overly-spicy wine. Ah well. No matter. The Barbera was saved for after dinner, where it paired brilliantly with a square of Chocolate Negro con Avellana (61% cacao) by Valrhona. The cherriness of the wine was brought out much better after the cocoa fats took some room up on the tongue. Nice one.



1 As far as I can tell, bahar=spice. So it’s a bit of a tautology to say baharat spice.
2 I think it’s about time I start writing down which wines work with what food. Over the years, we’ve had fantastic wines that could have been great with food other than what we drank it with. And the converse. Problem is: we’re forgetful. It has to be stonkingly brilliant, like a Margaux with roast duck, to make it memorable.
3 55% Steinbek Vineyard, 45% Christian-Lazo Vineyard. Isn’t it cute how they put down which vineyard the grapes came from. I almost feel like I should have a mini-pilgrimage to each vineyard from which wines I have loved were birthed…

Chicken pie

Pie innards

A brief hiatus in food blogging due to work getting in the way. I have eaten loads in the intervening period, but not much of note. Taking a few days off while my parents are in LA means that we finally have some time on our hands to cook. The chicken pie above was a result of directions from my parents, who make this on a regular basis.

It’s one that’s ideal for folk with little free time, using a few modern conveniences like concentrated soup, frozen mixed veg and pre-made puff pastry. Despite that, it’s quite tasty, and all the convenience food products can be substituted with homemade hard work.

Simply get yourself some chicken (free range and preferably organic too), cut into bite-size pieces and fry in some oil (olive oil is all we have right now and works fine). While the chicken is browning, dice yourself some onions and potatoes. Add those to the chicken when it’s golden brown, and stir in a few handfuls of frozen mixed veg (usually sweetcorn, peas, carrots, but sometimes with green beans and broad beans too). If being lazy, you should have gotten the premade, even pre-rolled, pasty out of the freezer much earlier so it doesn’t crack when unrolled. Line a pie tin with one sheet, trim the excess (save it to make cheesy twists) and pile on the chicken mix. Cover with the other sheet, brush with a beaten egg, and snip a few pretty holes to allow venting. Bake in a hot oven (190degC) for 45 minutes (or until the innards are hot and the pastry is golden brown). Serve piping hot, remembering to take a few snaps before it’s devoured by hungry people wondering why you didn’t just serve up the cooked chicken mix in the first place.

chicken in lemon and milk

No photos today. It’s strange how on some days we’re just trigger-happy, and on others the camera doesn’t even come out of its case. So you’ll just have to take my word for how good today’s chicken in milk was. Originally a Jamie recipe, modified (i.e. made easy for lazy people) by us.

Brown your chicken in a deep pan. Drain off the excess fat. Cut a lemon in two give it a wee squeeze before throwing in the whole thing anyway. Pour in about a (British) pint of milk (that’s just over 586ml in metric, but I usually just pour until I remember to stop, so I’ve never any idea just how much I’ve used). Throw in several cloves of garlic (we always start with three, but end up adding five or more. Needless to say, our breath honks after.) Stick in the oven at 190C for around 45 min. (There are rules of thumbs for gauging how long to cook a chicken by weight. If I’m being particular, I check them out and follow them. Otherwise, I guess. This was no spring chicken, but no gargantuan either, so 45 minutes seemed sufficient.) In the meantime, faff around and forget to prepare anything to go with the chicken. Remember at around the 45 minute mark, and grab some angel hair pasta from the store cupboard. Take the chicken out while the pasta is cooking. Let it rest. It’s a bit exhausted from being in the heat, you know. Don’t bin the curdled milk in the pan: reduce it! (um, technical term for boiling some of it away until it’s a bit thicker) Shred some of the tender breast into the pasta or noodles, pour over the reduced curdled milky jus, tuck the napkin in and attack with a fork. If being posh, don’t bother with all that and serve carved pieces of chicken with some mashed tatties and roasted veggies (yeah right, like we ever plan in advance and have everything in). Bitch about how significant other never takes photos of your cooking even though you’ve been slaving away over a hot TV watching Stargate. Blog about how crap you are at documenting your cooking.

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