A tale of two lambs...part deux ...

Confession: I have been sitting here freaking out for the last twenty minutes. I totally lost my tales and lessons. It's true. They disappeared from my computer. Pouff. Like the sauce. And, it was such a ridiculous way to go. I copied my text, was ready to paste and then, my bleeping computer shut down! The only reason you are reading this now is because by some miracle I had not closed the blogger ap on my phone AND THE STORY WAS STILL OPEN ON MY PHONE! Thank you sweet saints and microchips (computers still run on those right?)!

For those of you who were not here with me yesterday, the story begins like this...

"It was the best of lambs, it was the worst of lambs, it was the fat on flesh, it was the lean on meat, it was the epoch of marbled fatty glory, it was the epoch of not one ounce, it was the season of spring, it was the season of winter, it was the spring of hope for a perfectly roasted leg, it was the winter of despair over disappearing sauce, we had everything before us, we had...well...everything still before us (I got nothing here, the tables were both full of magnificent food), we were all going to direct fatty lamb heaven, we were all going direct (I so fought the urge to write directly. I did. directly) the other way, the lean way.

There was no king with a large jaw or queen with a plain face but there was a kosher lamb with a large bone and lots of nice marbling on the throne (well, platter actually) of our royal home, there was an organic lamb with plain, unmarbled meat on the throne (well, platter actually) of our royal chalet. In both places it was clearer than crystal to the lords (well, us, but we can be lords, and ladies, of course) of the homes and chalets (to be honest I think it was just me but whatever) that things in general were settled for ever (forever!).

Pardon? say you? What in the heck am I talking about? you ask?

Well, I have a tale of two lambs. I have a lesson learned.

And what say you are these tales and lessons? Well, don't hate me but I'll tell you tomorrow. Okay? Tomorrow! I swear!  ..."

Which brings us to today.

And to a tale of the first:

A short story, in a slightly warmer (only slightly, like five degrees or so) time, the sun had set and we were all sitting around a table (surprise, I know) merry and boisterous. Wine was flowing, fat was, well, also flowing but being absorbed by previously mentioned free flowing wine so all was right in the bellies of babes. I ask you now, to imagine yourself innocently preparing your salad in the kitchen, smiling at the laughter you can hear coming from the other room, thinking how lovely and civilized it all is, when all of a sudden you hear what sounds suspiciously like tribal chanting. Intrigued, you come out of said kitchen, with said salad in hand, to the following scenario: your very carnivorous (except for one highly amused vegetarian) lovely guests, sitting around the table with glinting bloodlust in their eyes, fists pumping in the air and chanting: Pilo! Pilo! Pilo! Turn to your left and you will see see Pilo, still not quite converted to complete caveman perilously teetering on the edge of am I really going to rip my bare teeth into this meat? ...Then all of a sudden, just as civilized reason is starting to win and Pilo's hand is inching down comes: Do it for the blog!! Pilo! Do it for the blog!! And so dear readers, as these things go, that is all the convincing he needs and Pilo's chance of remaining city human vanishes. Laughter bellows from the crowd and in one fluid swoop, Pilo picks up the whole leg, ravenously mashes face to meat, rips off a piece and I tell you my dear friends, it is a thing of beauty. The crowd roars! The fists pump! Pilo! Pilo! 

Notice the stance ...

And then, the most amazing thing happens ...the shank is passed! First to the other wild eyed men, Frid! Frid! Frid! then Dinny! Dinny! Dinny! and Axil! Axil! Axil! (okay, I do admit, this one might be a bit obvious ... might.) each one biting and pulling at the meat with bare teeth, grinning and leering at the meat like they shouldn't be ...but wait, dear readers, it get's better... Not willing to be outdone, the women also have their turn. So, all in all, here we have it friends ...you have just delightedly witnessed caveman behavior right in your very own home. Otherwise quite normal, quite polite young adults turned savages by simple fatty succulent lamb leg glorious meat. The lamb end. Lamb.

Photos have been darkened to preserve dignity ...

A tale of the second:

A very short slightly fragmented, perhaps rambly with a possible curt end story in a slightly colder (only slightly) time. Up north nestled in a magnificent chalet, were thirteen lovely people (us, totally lovely us) five hours into a memorable, veritable New Year's feast. Artisan cheeses formed abundant mounds, pates burst out of their ramekins, breads lasciviously displayed themselves in baskets, cinnamon and sage scented sweet potatoes beckoned passers by, green and black olives lived harmoniously in one plate, brown butter parsnips pleased palates (ahaaaa

That, was when the sauce disappeared. 

It was the horrible scent of charring meat that alerted us. So we followed the nose (always trust the nose, the nose knows - ahaaaa another good one yes?) and immediately went to the oven. The sauce dear readers, was completely gone. Literally. Vanished. Pouff. Into thin air. Before my very eyes. Now the day before I had purchased a lovely lamb leg from a small organic farm in Eastern Quebec (well I actually purchased it from the butcher but they purchased it from a small organic farm in Eastern Quebec, from Steve, I'm making the Steve part up, but not the rest) it looked beautiful. I was super excited so you can imagine how said sauce disappearing incident was really freaking not good! Ahem. So there we stood, oven mitts on, puzzled and pissed. What was a girl to do other than take out the leg mid way (I totally took it out with my oven mitts on) and wash the pan mid way, then, well, put it back in, drizzle with fat and curse the lean gods. Which we did. (Not to worry! all was good in the end! see below text between the **'s)

A lesson learned:

All lunacy aside dear readers, lamb needs fat. Ours was too lean and there was nothing no fat to bind the sauce. When you buy, if you are going to a new butcher, ask them if the lamb they are selling you is their usual stock, if so does it have enough fat or does it need reinforcement? If it is not their usual stock, ask if it has been checked for leanness and if so how it compares and again, do you need to reinforce it. If you have a leg that is more lean than usual there are several ways to reinforce it. You can top the leg with slices of boar bacon (my favorite), you can cut little pieces into the bone and actually place chunks of lamb/pig/lard fat into the meat or, if you are feeling a little nutty, go ahead and baste your leg regularly in duck fat. Fat fat fat! 

**names have been changed to avoid incrimination**

**contrary to the title (I took creative liberty) the second lamb was far from "worst" it was lovely. lean lovely.** 

Fat.

Time to dish.

Lamb (fat fat fat) leg with white wine & juniper berries

Here is what you need:

• 3 garlic cloves , crushed
• 3 rosemary sprigs, leaves picked and chopped
• 1 tsp black peppercorns , crushed
• 3 juniper berries , crushed
• olive oil
• 1 whole leg of fatty awesome lamb 
• white wine for the marinade and for the sauce
• zest of one lemon

Here is what to do:

1. 375 on!. Now, combine the garlic, white wine, rosemary, peppercorns and juniper together with enough olive oil to make a paste. Then rub it all over your lovely lamb and marinade overnight. Take it out the following day and let it come to room temperature.
2. Into the pan it goes to roast for about 1 hr 45 mins. Resting time. Let your baby snooze wrapped in foil for at least 30 mins. This will give you lamb that is still slightly pink in the middle. 
3. Now, pour off as much fat from the pan as you can, then place the pan on a direct heat, scraping all the awesome  bits. Pour in the wine, up to a boil and reduce scraping the pan with a wooden spoon. When ready, smother your lamb in it.

Phfew. I'm totally done.

A tale of two lambs...

It was the best of lambs, it was the worst of lambs, it was the fat on flesh, it was the lean on meat, it was the epoch of marbled fatty glory, it was the epoch of not one ounce, it was the season of spring, it was the season of winter, it was the spring of hope for a perfectly roasted leg, it was the winter of despair over disappearing sauce, we had everything before us, we had...well...everything still before us (I got nothing here, the tables were both full of magnificent food), we were all going to direct fatty lamb heaven, we were all going direct (I so fought the urge to write directly. I did. directly) the other way, the lean way.

There was no king with a large jaw or queen with a plain face but there was a kosher lamb with a large bone and lots of nice marbling on the throne (well, platter actually) of our royal home, there was an organic lamb with plain, unmarbled meat on the throne (well, platter actually) of our royal chalet. In both places it was clearer than crystal to the lords (well, us, but we can be lords, and ladies, of course) of the homes and chalets (to be honest I think it was just me but whatever) that things in general were settled for ever (forever!).

Pardon? say you? What in the heck am I talking about? you ask?

Well, I have a tale of two lambs. I have a lesson learned.

And what say you are these tales and lessons? Well, don't hate me but I'll tell you tomorrow. Okay? Tomorrow! I swear!  ...

To daydream ...

Cue intro...and ...action! Happy Wednesday dear readers. I have finally made it out. Ish. Truth be told dear readers, for the last several weeks I have been imprisoned at home under the vice grip of a mighty supergerm and said supergerm's minion army of ...well ...supergerms! Surrounded by tall, white mounds of crumpled tissues strewn about like dunes in a desert, glossy red lozenges, mustard colored tinctures, cups, glasses all sprinkled about on the table that had become my base-camp... all evidence of unprecedented (or at least super nasty) malaise, I've spent my days...and as if that were not enough, I am also, of course, burrowed eyeball deep  in my mid winter IhatewinteruninspiredlazycrankysleepysickfreezingunderblanketItotallyhatewinter, mood. 

One early Monday morning though, the sun poked me in the eye. Literally. And no. It was not the solar storm. I gave this intruding ray of light the fish eye, peeked out from under my blanket and began intense self coercion strategy to get myself out of the house. It worked. I dragged my resistant (resistant like my spirit was hanging onto the couch with both hands while I had its feet type of resistant) body to my beloved market (which I have been neglecting for weeks and weeks) and simply sat down. And then the most magical thing happened. Dear readers, have you ever seen those movies where someone has been trapped in a dark cave with no human contact for like ever and then they finally (and dramatically) get rescued and then they get above ground and somehow they are sitting in this beautiful grassy field and the sun is shining on their dirty pained face and they like (I don't know what has gotten into me and using valley girl "like" for the last few days but anyway) squint up and try to smile? Well, that was me. Minus everything I just said. I was just sitting at the market. But it felt just like that! 

As I started to look (squint) around, it was as if the cloud lifted and I, was that person in that field (market, whatever).The sun was shining all around me through the large, beautiful windows. I was surrounded by farmers and people I have missed since the summertime. It was quiet because it was quite early. My jasmine flower scented green tea was steaming away and the homemade yogurt I had just bought was topped with strawberries. People were smiling. Hugging one another (I swear!). I found my inspiration dear readers. This beautiful little (arguably the biggest outdoor market in North America but whatever. It's my little market) market is the place that feels completely right for me. I feel at home. I am reminded of soul and spirit. Of hard work and of beauty. Of deliciousness. Of a warmer time to come. Of how lucky we are that we have people who work the land. I have to tell you though that in all honesty dear readers I was completely shocked to see all these little blue Fleur de Lys (I really hope I got that right and that's what is in fact on our flag ...) everywhere beckoning and saying we grew here! In warmer times but we're still here! Beets, potatoes, squash, garlic, dried herbs, hearty winter greens, eggs, cabbage, apples, parsnips, carrots...all here, all from us, all for us.  It was lovely, dear readers. Just lovely. A frosty, brilliant, beautiful, mid winter, lovely early Monday morning.

So all this to say, my current aspiration is to become one of those market people. You know the ones. They arrive most mornings, early, set up shop on the coffee house patio, laptops perched on table, coffee's (or tea in my case) splendid aroma steaming from cup, getting ready to write, create, strategize or... to daydream.

Now, I do have a recipe. And it is one I love dearly.

Time to dish. 

Dearly loved, Lamb Orzo

Here is what you need:

• About 1.5 kilos of lovely lamb shoulder, cut into 4 cm cubes
• 2.5 onions, sliced
• A small handful of oregano (I used the one I dried from the summer. It was awesome.)
• .5 teaspoon of ground cinnamon
• 2 whole cinnamon sticks, broken in half
• Good olive oil, as much as you like (coat the bottom of your pan)
• Can of good tomatoes, chopped (I get mine whole and then chop them myself)
• A liter and a bit of chicken stock 
• Lam bones (for extra flavor)
• A few marrow bones (yep, for extra flavor)
• Lots and lots of Parmesan, please, grate it yourself
• Good crusty bread
• Good full bodied wine

Here is what to do:

1. Heat oven to 375. Cut the lamb into 5cm (ish) chunks, then brown (it and your bones and marrow) over high heat. Then place in a wide casserole dish. Add your onions, oregano (yey!), cinnamon sticks, ground cinnamon and olive oil, and toss them around in there until nice and coated. Add salt and pepper. Then bake! Uncovered, for 45 mins, stirring once halfway. Just once...

2. After this, take it out and pour over lovely chopped tomatoes and your chicken stock, cover tightly, then return to the oven for 2 hours, until the lamb is almost falling apart

3. Once done and beautiful, remove the cinnamon sticks and then stir in the orzo. Cover again and back in the oven we go for about 25 mins, stirring halfway through. Just once. The orzo should be cooked and the sauce luscious and bubble. Then, the final magic. Take that awesome Parmesan and grate it all over the pot. Bam! Serve with crusty bread and lots of good full bodied wine. Bam!

I LOVE TO WRITE! I LOVE YOU DEAR READERS! Yes, you really are seeing this. No, there is no good reason why it is here.

Plus an hour ...

You didn't think that I would let 2011 go out without a recipe did you? I am totally sneaking this in so I have to make it quick but there was no way I was going to let this year go by without sharing this with you. And what else could I possibly do but leave you with a real, honest to goodness Panatone recipe.

That takes a week to make. Plus an hour.

What?!

It's a big recipe. It requires time and love. It is totally traditional and completely amazing. Just like I hope your new year is going to be.

Time to dish.


Insanely time consuming completely amazing Panatone
(Cuccina Italiana) 

**So the gist of it is this: You make a cool starter, which takes a week to develop, and there is some lengthy leavening, and then, there is Panatone heaven.**

Here is what you need for the starter:

• 2-2.5 cups of unbleached all purpose flour (measured out in 1/2 cup portions)
• 2-2.5 cups of whole wheat flour (measured as above)
• 3-3.5 cups of room temperature water (measured out in 3/4 cup portions)

Here is what you need for the Poolish (Pre-Ferment):

• 1/4 cup of unbleached all purpose flour
• 1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons of room temperature water
• 1/4 teaspoon plus 1/8 teaspoon of active dry yeast

Here is what you need for the dough:

• 3 and 3/4 cups of unbleached all purpose flour (more if needed)
• 1/2 a cup of sugar
• 1 tablespoon plus 1 and 1/2 teaspoons of fine sea salt
• 2 and 1/2 teaspoons of active dry yeast
• 3 large eggs
• 6 large egg yolks
• 1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons of whole milk (no skimping here with less fat okay...)
• 1 and 1/4 cups of currants, soaked in warm water (or warm rum) for 10 minutes and then drained
• 6 ounces of candied orange peel cut into small dice
• 2 and a 1/2 tablespoons of honey
• 3 tablespoons of quality extra virgin olive oil
• Finely grated zest of three lemons and three oranges
• 1 vanilla bean split lengthwise, scraped and reserved
• 14 tablespoons of cold, unsalted butter

Phfeww! Are you guys still with me? Okay, here we go.

Here is what to do for the starter:

1. One week before your Panatone dough adventure starts, get a bowl out and mix the following: 1.5 cups each of the all purpose and whole wheat flours and add 3/4 cups of the water. Stir into a batter like mix. Then cover with a cheesecloth and leave it alone for three days. Yep. Three. You will smell it baby!
2. Now, uncover, stir together, and throw out half the mixture. This is the beginning of your started dears..Now add again as above 1.5 cups of each of the flours and 3/4 cups of the water, give a stir, cover and leave it for two days.
3. At this point repeat the "feeding" process (same quantities of everything) and leave it for another 1-2 days until the starter is "ripe". It will bubble and smell sweet and lactic, kind of like yogurt, and a small spoonful will float in water.

Here is what to do for the Poolish (night before baking the Panatone):

1. Get another bowl and mix the flour, water and yeast and let stand at room temperature for 10-12 hours.

Here is what to do for the dough:

1. Yet another bowl must come out. Preferably one of an electric mixer or your hands will be really tired...Once out, blend together flour, sugar, salt and yeast. In another bowl, combine 3/4 cups of starter, all of the poolish, whole eggs, egg yolks, and milk.
2. With your mixer on low, slowly add wet ingredients to dry ingredients and mix until everything belongs together. About five minutes ...Let the dough rest for about 20 minutes...
3. Now, in another large bowl(have you kept count of how many we are at here?) mix together currants, candied orange peels, honey, oil, lemon and orange zests, and vanilla and put it aside.
4. Butter time! Cut the butter into medium pieces, put between two pieces of saran wrap, then flatten out. Return flattened butter to fridge. Come on now! Breathe! You can do it!
5. Mix the rest of the dough on medium speed for 6-8 minutes. With the mixer running, add the butter piece by piece until all is incorporated and the dough is smooth.
6. Then take the bowl out of the mixer, using your hands now, add the currant mixture to the dough to incorporate completely, then take dough and put it in a huge bowl, cover and let rise for two hours.
7. Turn dough once, then cover and let rise again for about another 2 hours.

It's time to bake!!! Haleluiah!!!

1. Coat your Panatone molds with butter and put molds on a baking sheet. Decide your kick ass dough into rounds and place in molds about half way. Let the dough rise until it reaches the height of the papers, about 1-2 hours..I swear, we will bake it...
2. Heat the oven to 400 with rack in the middle and bake! For about 15-17 minutes. Keep an eye on it, you'll know ...

Then dear readers, take it out, let it cool, and enjoy something from a time gone by.

Love and happy 2012,

Oana

What I learned ...

Well, here it is. Three days to go until the New Year. A stack of late Christmas cards on my table. Patiently and knowingly (always late) waiting to be filled and mailed... Me, sitting in the kitchen being distracted by nightfall, snow and the blue lights outside ... reflecting (instead of getting to said cards) ... What a year it has been dear readers. Really. If I had to describe it in one word, that word would be scary. It is not a fancy word, but it is a word filled with truth.

Cards ...they so know they are going to be late ...

Distractions ...

This year has been a year filled with change and growth for me dear readers. Mostly in heart and spirit. Mostly because I had no choice. I've had to face many challenges and many fears. To look at life, people, relationships and myself in a light that I had never known before. And I had all the time in the world, in which to do it. My sabbatical is nothing like I thought it would be. I guess I kind of had an inkling of an idea that giving myself so much time on my hands after not having any for ..oh ..I don't know ..ever ..would have some kind of reflective, existential consequences but boy was I not prepared for the sheer physical and mental mind-bend of it all.

I'm going to share what I learned...it's personal, a little all over the place if you don't mind, and another scary thing to add to the proverbial list ...

This year dear readers, I learned to slow down. To take better care of my body because it is the only one I have and it feels really really good when I do. That I need to move. To sweat. To have screaming, kid like, heart pounding fun. I learned that I am very uncomfortable (like panic inducing uncomfortable) not having control and structure in work. I learned why. And to let that go a little more every day. I learned to be vulnerable. I learned to accept some of the not so pleasant parts of myself (yes, I have some :) because they are part of who I am. To soften up a little. To judge less. To be there for myself. I learned that I need to pay more attention to nature and light and cycles because they are a part of me and influence my well being tremendously. That I love rituals and marking the changes of time. I learned to talk about myself and that I would not burst into flames or die of shame if I did. That I cannot help sometimes no matter how hard I try. I learned that I cannot fix everything and that's okay. That I don't always have to be nice. That it is okay to be tired.

I learned to be okay with being scared, uncertain, in limbo and without a clear path for the moment, and to move forward anyway. I learned that everything I think I know (even the sealed in stone huge stuff) can change at any moment. And, that the human capacity for transformation and growth is a marvel.

Now, on to my dried flowers and other such things. I know I know, a little abrupt, but hey, a girl can only take so much heart on sleeve very public soul bearing. So, what I also wanted to share with you are some little things that put a smile on my face and remind me that things will be warm, bright and green again soon.

Time to dish ...in photos ...

Flowers in jars on counter tops ..

Braided garlic and fuschia  flowers hanging on ancient sandwich press ...

Dried flowers ...

Red berries on dark branches ...

Wreaths made out of grapevines with dried grapes still hanging on them ...

Big, beautiful, regular wreaths ...

Happy New Year dear readers. As old fashioned as it sounds, may all your dreams come true.