Sopa del mezcolanza

...or, "hodgepodge soup".

Yeah, I've already failed at meeting my once-a-week blogging quota. And I don't fucking care! God, it's so liberating to just admit that instead of apologizing and making excuses. I have been cooking here and there, but nothing new or interesting. I can't be a genius all the time.

I made a vat of jambalaya with arborio rice on Monday (not even with any interesting meats, just chicken, andouille and shrimp). Oh, last night I fried some salmon croquettes and made some arancini with leftover jambalaya. That was pretty good. I did have a few failure piles that you would've enjoyed laughing at, but I really just didn't want to go through the rigmarole of the whole food blogging-it thing. One was frozen homemade chili on a pile of boxed mac and chee (hurried together after amateurishly burning the original dinner: linguine with what would've been a carbonara with caramelized onions and collard greens). The other was, in retrospect, eerily similar to Oswalt's original failure pile (served aptly in a sadness bowl): a blob of mashed potatoes topped with a slurry of gravy, shredded chicken and mixed vegetables (the canon Flav-R-Pac mélange of corn, pea, carrot, and lima bean niblets). That the chicken was not in "popcorn" format and lacked a cloak of grated cheese was the only detail that separated this dinner from that KFC abortion.


This is, for all intents and purposes, minestrone. But I wanted to tweak things a little by going Spanish with the flavors instead of the classic (read: run-of-the-mill) Italian minestrone. I used my canned homegrown heirloom tomatoes (supplemented with a bit of leftover arrabiata sauce), so it's even got a little hoity to go with my as-of-late, lackluster toity. I rendered some linguiça (yeah, yeah, but I didn't have any chorizo) in a little olive oil with diced carrots and a sofrito of garlic and onions, my aforementioned tomatoes and some piquillos that were on the brink of growing a beard in the fridge. I dusted the whole lot with some pimentón and some thyme. In went a handful of Trader Joe's Harvest Blend (a melange of Israeli couscous, baby garbanzos, orzo and red quinoa) to soak up some of the flavorful orange grease. A glug of budget tempranillo supplemented the chicken stock, salt and pepper to taste, and away we go.

Serve with a tempranillo and some appropriate toasty, cheesy bread product (ours was a cheesy breadstick, similarly procured from Trader Joe's).

Moroccan Chickpea and Carrot Stew

...or, Back in the Saddle Again

Zephyr is now 8 weeks old, and I'm starting to get the hang of having him around. That said, cooking still takes me a bit of planning (unless I opt for yet another "pasta night" or "takeout night"). This is why I've decided to start doing what busy moms and dads have been doing for generations: the one-pot meal. Yes, I feel like a failure admitting it, but the one-pot meal is kind of a Thing.

Not just for cowboy camping anymore, a humble pot of beans (chickpeas, in this case) can be elevated to something you actually want to eat with the simple addition of a few choice ingredients. Carrots, shallots, garlic, homegrown heirloom tomatoes (that I canned during my nesting frenzy last fall), ginger, cumin and cardamom all combine easily with garbanzos to make a hearty, warming stew fit for a dark January Thursday.

I started mine early in the day and let it simmer over a low flame to thoroughly soften the dried chickpeas. The softly spicy scent of ginger, cumin and cardamom floated through the house all day, stimulating my postpartum appetite and filling me with a sense of Having Done Something.

Enjoy with warm, buttered flatbread and a chewy, raisiny garnacha.

*****

Unless you take it to its hallucinatory extreme, sleep deprivation is not great for creativity. Preparing meaningful food, presenting it artfully and writing about it thoughtfully require both a rested mind and free time, for which new mothers are seldom known. Zephyr occasionally grants us a 4-hour chunk or two, but my evenings are generally broken up into 2-3 hour naps, interspersed with dozy, twighlit nursing. Being a good blogger means getting a good night's sleep, and this rarely happens these days. At this point, it's either slowly getting better or I'm slowly getting used to it.

As days lengthen, though, I'm finding myself more interested in thinking about things like combining ingredients instead of just filling my time with such enthralling activities as staring at the baby or waiting for Scott to get home from work. I am setting a goal for myself to update both of my blogs once a week - let's see how I do.

Grilled eggplant and heirloom tomato panini with chevre and kalamata tapenade

Yay! Summery weekend weather started on Friday, and the lovely log of French goat cheese that's been languishing in my fridge got its day in the sun. The first good heirloom tomatoes starting showing up in stores, and I was powerless. An eggplant and a loaf of fresh sea salt-rosemary focaccia would complete the train of thought, and this would be dinner.

I marinated the sliced eggplant (salted and left in a sieve in the sink to drain the bitter juices, then squeezed of the last drops of leachate) in a basil-balsamic vinaigrette: olive and walnut oils and balsamic vinegar; Dijon mustard and a drib of mesquite honey; then a good, fat chiff of basil, some flaky Maldon and cracked pepper. I let it soak up every atom of flavor while Scott readied the grill and I worked on the ultimate condiment.

I'm kind of picky about my chèvres - so many of the affordable ones from Trader Joe's are just like a crumbly cream cheese and lack the depth of tang and grass and goat that distinguishes a good French cheese. Ile de France makes a really nice one that meets my exacting standards. I mashed it with some finely chopped basil, summer savory and a quickie kalamata tapenade (chopped olives with shallots, S&P and a little lemon zest and chile flake) to spread on the toasted focaccia.

We grilled the eggplant (gas flame with some hickory chips in a foil pouch - so much faster and less wasteful for the grilling needs of just two people) until roasty-soft with crispy edges, and then toasted the focaccia over the flame. I soaked the sliced tomatoes in the warm vinaigrette drippings from the eggplant, then assembled the sandwiches.

Just perfect with a lemony mixed spring green salad and sparkling grapefruit juice.

Rigatoni Bolognese with olives and chiles

It's been so hard to muster the energy or interest to cook, what with fatigue and nausea running the show. Pasta with red sauce seems to be accepted without a hitch, and requires nearly no effort, particularly when I have one last, treasured jar of homemade Bolognese from the homegrown heirloom tomatoes of last summer, canned with homeground beef chuck and fresh herbs. This last jar of sunshine was the end of an era.

This bastard lovechild between puttanesca ("the whore's") and Bolognese came from my need to taste red sauce with a little bit of saline fattiness of olives and the protein punch of beef. Chile flake (Korean, for flavor in addition to moderate heat) kicked it to a high hum.


Lots of grated parmesan and crusty bread to swab out the last smear of sauce is a no-brainer.

Orecchiette with pancetta, asparagus, peas and lemon balm

It's so good to be back in my kitchen, I can't even tell you. After the nettle dinner (those 24 things are so much work!) I was in the dry, dusty field for a week (botanical surveys in the western Central Valley, California), and spent the weekend alternately recovering on the couch with my feet up and the remote control ruthlessly cutting commercials from Tivo'ed programs, or playing Rune Factory Frontier, or turning and seeding my warming vegetable beds. Even though it was inspirationally gorgeous out, I didn't really feel like cooking. Not one whit.

The funny thing about being pregnant is that every two hours you are starving. Your blood sugar drops so fast that you simultaneously want to puke and faint. But as famished as I feel, when I finally get around to getting some food in front of me, I can only muster a few bites before I am completely stuffed. Baffled then, am I, that I am gaining weight so quickly. I've been putting on almost a pound a week since I found out. It's going straight to my belly, upper arms and tits, which are rapidly transforming into jugs (I can't stop staring at them, which is probably why I can see them growing before my very eyes).

But holy shit, this is so not about me. This is about the simple flavors of springtime, about the vernal Holy Trinity (peas, asparagus and ham), about meals that are free of fetter and hamper. In the time it takes to boil water and cook pasta you can have, in your very mouth, a perfect balance of crunchy, sweet, virid, salty, fatty, bright and creamy. Yes, all in one bite.

While you're waiting for water to boil, string about a half pound of peas and peel the stems of a small bunch of asparagus. Slice these coarsely on the bias into bite-sized chunks. Mince a shallot and three cloves of garlic finely. Chop about a quarter pound of pancetta. Your water is nigh at a boil, so add a fat pinch of kosher salt and dump in nearly an entire pound of orecchiette (leave about a cup in the bag for another time, this'll still be enough for leftovers).

While the pasta is cooking, render the pancetta in a drizzle of olive oil, and add the shallot and garlic. When the pancetta starts to go crisp and the shallots begin to turn golden, add the peas and asparagus and cook over medium or so, lazily stirring things about with a wooden spoon because it feels so good to hold that spoon (the one with burn marks up the handle from setting it against a hot pan too long, too many times). Salt and pepper things a bit for good measure, and while you're at it, go ahead and scrape in some lemon zest. Have a bright idea to go pick some lemon balm, since the sunny weather has started it aflush near the little pond out back. Chiffonade that lemon balm and pick some thyme off the tender stems.

Drain the pasta and dump the vegetables and pancetta in, swabbing out the bacon grease with a spoonful of pasta. Since it still could use a little something, why not stir in a knob of good cultured butter and maybe a scant tablespoon of crème fraîche. Stir in the sliced lemon balm and picked thyme, and grate in some grainy Parmesan.

Be so happy that you can eat more than a few bites because this is exactly, exactly what you wanted.

Fideos in saffron-pimentón broth with mussels and linguiça

This is a variation on a dish I made awhile back, and though breaking up capellini to make a version of fideos seems more legit, I think the clams were a better addition than mussels. The problem with mussels (always) is that their thin shells buckle under the weight of their neighbors, and a good handful seem to be broken right out of the bag (this time, the nice fella at New Seasons even inspected each handful, but missed 6 or 7 that had little hairline cracks). Buttery littlenecks are just tougher. Oh well.

I sliced up the linguiça and some onions and browned them up in a little olive oil with some minced garlic. I threw in the broken capellini-as-fideos and stirred them around the savory, orange oil as one would for a risotto, then added about a cup of white wine, a crumbly pinch of saffron threads and a fingertip-sized bump of pimentón, a few pinches of kosher salt and some cracks of pepper. Dumped in the last jar of my home-canned Dr. Wyches Yellow orange heirloom toms and a rinse-out jarful of water, then covered and simmered for about 15 minutes. When the fideos were al dente, I tossed in the scrubbed and de-bearded mussels and reapplied the lid. Sprinkle copious chopped parsley and break open some baguette for soppage.

Serve with tiny tumblersful of cheap Tempranillo and the old tango records that you got for fifty cents at a yard sale years ago, yet are just now listening to for the first time.

Lamb berbere with grilled vegetables, jalapeño pesto and smoked tomato orzo

Yes, that is a segment of lamb femur with the marrow sucked out, enjoying its second life as a parsley holder.

I love having a little time to just wander around the grocery store, no agenda or list, and just see what looks good and let the ingredients inform me for what I'm hankering. A sexy leek, with its perfect alabaster root end dripping suggestively with the misters' cool water. The vessel of colorful peppers, some chocolate-purple and peridot, rufous striated, all twisted and gnarled from errant, heirloom DNA (scrupulously bred out of modern hothouse varieties in the name of solanaceous eugenics). Eggplant heavy in its basket like a milk-distended breast. I love produce. I fucking love it.

I also love meat. Pork, beef, lamb - I love lamb so much that I can't help but wonder how delicious other baby animals must be. Fawn - oh god, can you imagine baby venison? A properly-cooked steak (which always means medium-rare with crusty maillard) is tantamount to ascension.

Anyways, I assembled these ingredients: sweet peppers, eggplant, leek, parsley, lamb leg steak (plus tomatoes and jalapeños from the garden). Without contemplation, I gave the steak a massage with the last of the heady Berbere spice mix. I sliced the eggplant into thick wedges and salted them to leach out the bitter nightshade jus. I quartered the leek and peppers lengthwise, and doused them in red wine vinegar, lemon juice/zest, olive oil and minced shallots. The tomatoes were cut into thick chunks and nestled into a foil bowl with oil and garlic. Stashed a sack of hickory under the grate and fired up the grill.

In a few minutes, the sweet smell of hickory permeated the patio and tendrils of smoke began to sneak into the kitchen. The marinated vegetables went on the fire, the tomatoes in their little cradle. I replaced the lid to trap the smoke.

When the vegetables had received their requisite char, they were returned to their marinade bowl and the steak went down. I'm so old-fashioned that I can't conceive of dinner without starch, so I got some orzo boiling (I was out of couscous, the "no doy" choice). When it was tender I drained it, dumped in the smoked tomatoes and garlic, some chopped parsley and cilantro, pinches of salt and chopped some of the grilled eggplant. I gave the lot a glug of olive oil and a squirt of lemon juice.

I had been thinking about a sauce for dipping the meat and veg - gremolata? Pistou? Again, I just left my instinct to its devices and plugged handfuls of parsley and cilantro into a large cup, and added a hearty glug of olive oil. A pinch of salt was added, and some minced shallot. Whiz with the immersion blender. Taste. Add a small handful of pumpkin seeds, and a whole, raw chopped jalapeño. Whiz, taste. Needs acid, and....something. A squirt of lemon, a clove of garlic and some more salt. Whiz, taste. Perfect.

Dinner was amazing. Flavors of Algiers that I've never imagined before - Middle Eastern, Mediterranean, African - all mingled harmoniously on my plate. Cooking by animal instinct, from the gut, has never failed me.

Grilled squid and kohlrabi salad with lemon-garlic vinaigrette

Man, it's just been too nice out! How could anyone sit in front of the computer when there's a vegetable garden to water, or a praying mantis egg sac to check for hatchlings, or white wine hangovers to nurse? Can't beat Portland in the summer.

Scott had to attend a work-dinner thing with the uppity-up-mucky-muck of his company this evening (business cazh in 90+ heat, poor guy), so I had my sweet friend from small times, Jason, over for dinner. Jason and I used to cook and eat together once in awhile a looooong time (when I was still vegetarian), when I was really into perfecting tuna casseroles and tweaking a pack of ramen. I've come some ways since then, and so has he.

I had some squids thawed in the fridge and was craving sunshiny Mediterranean flavors. I really needed to eat some of the kohlrabi in the garden, had some lemons and a bag of mixed greens. I'd been tossing ideas around all day (I also have an ungodly amount of Nero di Toscano kale and collards, both of which are the size of a 3rd-grader), but settled on a nice salad at the last minute. The "last minute" was determined by coming home to the chagrin of open windows on a really hot day.

I rinsed the squids (pre-cleaned, thank goodness) and dressed them in lots of chopped garlic, the juice and zest of one lemon, a coupla tbsp chopped fresh marjoram, an ample drizzle of good olive oil and some S&P. I cut a kohlrabi into matchsticks and added them to the marinade, which was by now turning my squid into ceviche. A little sliced red onion was the last touch.

Hot grill pan to get some marks on the vedge, then remove to a separate bowl and hit the squid to the heat. It was too wet (and already cooked in the acid of the marinade) to get any char, but it only took a second to heat it through. I added the cooked squids to the grilled kohlrabi-onion and reduced the dressing with a hit of leftover cheap chardonnay (thanks for the hangover, Bear's Lair!) to soften the garlic.

Cool for a minute or so to tepid, then top a plate of mixed baby greens with warm handfuls of the squid-kohlrabi-onion mixture, top with a drizzle of the warm vinaigrette. Serve with sliced baguette (copiously buttered with good Dutch butter) and my ubiquitous heirloom tomato salad. After we devoured our squid salads, we lazily pecked at open-faced sandwiches made from the salt-and-peppered tomato and cultured butter on that wonderful, soft sourdough (still bakery-cozy). Commence eye-roll and toe-curl.

Orzo with linguiça and clams

I had some linguiça in the fridge that I bought like a month ago. Check the date: Sell By June 08. Perfect. Linguiça (lin-gwee-suh) is a Portuguese cured sausage that resembles chorizo. I don't think it has tongue in it, but the name suggests it. Peter G. from Oz knows what I'm talking about. He's a cunning linguist.

I was thinking of making something rich like feijoada, a rich Portuguesi stew of beans and pork products (also the National Dish of Brazil), but even though the weather is meh, I want to eat vegetables and herbs and brightness. And although my garden isn't quite there yet, the heirloom tomatoes at New Seasons are fucking pulchritudinous. Yes, that's right. Pulchritudinous. Yeah, I have a thesaurus. What's it to ya?

I got so excited about eating linguiça for dinner that IMed the Hubz at work:

Hethz: Linguica - as sammich, with beans, or with fideos and clams
Hubz: Clams?
Hethz: Yay and crsty bread for soppage
Hubz: Sounds perfect.
Hethz: Except wtih orzo we dont hvae fideos and i dont wanna break spaghteti (I'm a terrible typist and IMing reflects this painfully clearly)
Hubz: Of course.
Hethz: Yay (then a bunch of extra-happy smilies cascade down the screen)

A nice trait of the Hubz' is that he knows better than interject when I IM him in the middle of the afternoon with meal ideas. He just smiles and nods while secretly continuing to do his work.

Orzo with linguiça and clams
Avoid my n00b mistake and actually check your clams when the seafood guy hands them to you. If there any broken ones (or worse, empty ones), give him a dirty up-and-down look and ask him is he fucking kidding you with this shit. Anyways, that's what I would've done if I'd thought to actually check my clams before gleefully trotting off swinging my basket and humming a tralala. Makes enough for two gluttons plus leftovers.

1/2 medium onion chopped
1 anaheim chili or 1/4 yellow bell pepper, sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 very small fennel bulb, sliced (probably 1 cup?)
2 linguiça sausages, sliced
1 c white wine
1 c canned stewed tomatoes and their juice (diced or chop up three whole stewed toms)
~ 2 or 3 handfuls orzo pasta
a small handful of good olives (I had dry-cured Greek ones, but Kalamata would also be great)
2 or 3 sprigs fresh thyme
2 tsp chopped fresh oregano
1/4 tsp pimentón (smoked paprika)
a few pinches of chili flake
some cracks of pepper
1 lb. clams (we have Manila clams from Washington that are great), rinsed
1 small-ish fresh tomato, chopped
a squonch* of flatleaf parsley, chopped
S&P

*This is the amount I always tell the Hubz to pick from the garden when he asks "how much?", and it's always just the right amount.

In a wide frying pan, saute the onion, peppers, garlic, fennel and linguiça in a little olive oil. When the sausage starts to brown and the veg start to go a bit sticky and glossy, toss in the wine and stir. Add everything else except the clams, fresh tomato and parsley. After about ten minutes of cooking over medium-low with a lid and stirring once in awhile, add the clams and fresh tomato. Cook for 5-8 more minutes, or until the clams are open, Discard any that don't open, because that means they were dead before you cooked them and this is how people get food poisoning.

Sprinkle with parsley and serve with crusty bread and a budget Spanish white such as Marqués de Alella 2006 Pansa Blanca.

Oh, I almost forgot! I'm sharing this dish with Kevin of Closet Cooking for the food blogging event he's hosting, Presto Pasta Nights. I hope he likes it! Go check him out say hi! He is totally the Napoleon Dynamite of food blogging (I mean that very affectionately). This is normally an event by Ruth over at Once Upon a Feast (omg, hi Ruth!), but Kevs is hosting this time around. I'm sure he doesn't mind if I call him Kevs.

Wild prawn and cod paella with smoked sturgeon and heirloom tomatoes

I craved the lusty sunshine aroma of saffron and of smoky pimentón. I had fresh peppers and flatleaf parsley, a nubile pink brandywine tomato and a bag of rice. I didn't have any bivalves around, and even though it's practically not a paella without mussels or clams (shit, some langostines would be nice, too), I did have some gorgeous trawl-caught wild gulf prawns*, some California (true) cod and some smoked Columbia River sturgeon (compliments of my dad, the intrepid sportsman). Paella was definitely on the menu.

*Pardon the distance from my table! I'm trying to be better about at least sticking to my coast when sourcing my protein and produce, but sometimes I fold a little. At least they're not farmed. Baby steps!

Such a basic dish, if you keep things like smoked paprika and saffron in your kitchen! You don't even need a paella pan (I need one more piece specialtyware like I need a hole in the head), although without one I will never achieve that golden crust prized by my Spanish countrywomen (right, Núria?). Come to think of it, I don't have a crockpot, so that means I can have a paella pan (and what the hell, throw in a nice tagine for good measure), right?

Dice up some bell pepper (red, yellow or orange; I think green is too strong-tasting), onion, garlic and tomato. Heat olive oil in the a pan and add the vegetables (except the tomato). Fry for a minute, then add the rice and paprika. Stir-fry the rice for a few minutes, then add a splash of white wine and some chicken or fish stock. Add a bay leaf, a pinch of red chili flake and a pinch of saffron threads, then stir and cover. Cook for 15-20 minutes or until the rice is done, then take off the lid, stir in the seafood, salt and pepper, tomatoes and chopped parsley, and stick the whole thing in a hot oven until the top of the rice gets a little browned and crispy. Top with more chopped parsley.

For Jube and Norm (and other oenophiles) - I paired this with a Domaine Labbé Vin de Savoie Abymes 2006. (Yes, it was displayed directly beneath the seafood case, else I'd never thunkit.) The minerality tapers off the juicy fruit notes, while quelling the acidity a bit. It complemented the floral saffron and sweet tomatoes in the paella perfectly, and cut right through the rich starch and seafood. Even though I don't usually think about wine, I at least know what it tastes like!

Orzo with octopus, garbanzos and chayote, with meyer lemon vinaigrette

I bought some chayote. I had always been kinda curious about these weird little fuckers, and finally bit the bullet and just brought some home. I sometimes just buy strange produce and then figure out how to use it after I get it home.

I'm embarrassed to admit that I had to wiki chayotes to find out what the fuck they even are. Turns out they're a cucurbit (like squash, cukes and melons), so that set my thinking in one direction. Chayote, as luck would have it, has the crisp texture and mild, clean flavor of kohlrabi (which tastes like a mild radish).



So it turns out that they're traditionally used in the Americas, Asia and in Oceania. An unencumbered Cuban recipe called for them in a 10-minute salad with octopus and garbanzos, green bell pepper and onion, and a simple oil and vinegar dressing. But I felt that the tinned octopus I picked up begged for Spanish flavors, so I twisted it a bit.


Orzo with octopus, garbanzos and chayote and meyer lemon vinaigrette
Serves 2 or 3 for a light supper or a salad

Combine in a salad bowl: 2 tins octopus (drained); a coupla handfuls of cooked garbanzos; a julienne of chayote (the seed can be avoided or ignored as you see fit) and 1/2 red bell pepper; minced garlic, shallot and 5 anchovy fillets; 1/2 tsp of smoked paprika, pinch of chili flake, 1 tbsp chopped oregano and 3 or 4 tbsp chopped Italian parsely, a coupla fat pinches of good salt and lots of black pepper; then the juice and zest of a meyer lemon, a splash of Sherry vinegar (I actually used a Korean lemon vinegar that rocks) and some extra virgin olive oil. Toss to combine. Add more seasoning and/or acid as necessary.

Meanwhile cook some orzo to al dente. Strain and toss with the salad. Let this sit for at least 10 minutes to let the flavors meld. Half an hour would be better.

Enjoy as is or as a side. We thought this would be good with a piece of fish or maybe on some lettuces, as an afterthought. Gah, I can't remember which it was, but we had some crisp Italian white. Kinda fruity. I can't even remember what grape it is, let alone the label. Honestly, I've grown to trust the wine guy at New Seasons so much that any more, I just tell him what I'm cooking and buy what he hands me.

Shredded lamb on Israeli couscous pilaf

Scott and I had a few of his homies over for dinner and vid night the other night. I had already thawed out a lamb shoulder roast to clear out some room in the freezer, so it was good that we were having some company. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford was a pretty decent flick - Casey Affleck can act circles around his brother. And we finally cleaned our house, as we are wont to do when company's expected.

The closest thing to maternal feelings I ever have is when I cook for people. Pete is a confirmed bachelor and doesn't get a good home-cooked meal unless he literally visits home. Chris is engaged to a vegetarian who has spent a fair amount of time around livestock of varying degrees of adorableness (and although she is mostly tolerant of his meat eating, she draws the line at lamb). So I particularly love cooking meat for these two guys. I feel like I'm giving them something special when they come over, something that can only be dished up by a nice lady in an apron.


I just found out (confirmed a suspicion, really) that lamb shoulder lends itself perfectly to a low and slow type of cooking. Three or four hours at 275oF did the trick nicely. Since I was a bit hobbled up, I showed Scott how to make my secret rub: cumin and coriander seed, the seeds from one black cardamom pod, a couple cloves, a stick of cinnamon, some peppercorns and a pinch of chili flake. Toast until fragrant and whizz in the dedicated grinder. Fat pinch of salt. Slice gashes into the meat and massage that shit in like you're warming up a girl you want to get into bed. Brown with a rough-chop mirepoix on the stove and roast (covered) until falling apart (the bones should be sticking out of the meat a good coupla inches). Scott also did the heavy lifting required to lug that fucker out the oven every hour for a flip.

I didn't trim away any of the excess fat before browning it in the Dutch oven, which in retrospect, probably would've been a good idea. There was so much fat floating on the remaining jus that I couldn't really use it for sauce (I don't have a separator, boo...). I ended up melting a bit of marmalade with honey and lots of pepper (black and pink) to make a drizzly glaze for the meat. It was pretty good for last-minute.

A simple pilaf of Israeli couscous with garbanzos, golden raisins and chopped prunes, minced parsley and cilantro and toasted pinenuts was great side. Adding glazed baby carrots with toasted cumin seed resulted in such statements as, "Wow, I never just eat carrots. These are really great!"And I glow, oh how I glow. A soft flat bread to scoop up the last of the pilaf and dip up the lamb fat and marmalade.