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The Sunday Roast

November 7, 2010
19:35 PM

I don’t know if it is being on the dry, and therefore being deprived of some of life’s little plesasures, or just the onset of some chillier weather but I seem to be looking forward to my meals with even more than my usual relish at the moment.

We are blessed with a superb butcher’s shop here in Thezan, and Michel and Natalie Butonnier who run it have become friends.
They have superb lamb which they bring down from the Aveyron (where Michel’s family came from) and hang for a decent length of time before selling on.
We have become addicted to the sweet shoulders of lamb and have gone through huge amounts during the year.
Usually I bone and stuff it , mainly for convenience of serving, but , as we are on our own , I bought one for today and had predecided that I was going to roast it with its bone in. (And this was on Saturday, thats what I mean about anticipation )

We headed off this afternoon for a stroll about the village, we wanted to have a look in the cemetery, absolutely awash with chrysanthemums since Tousaint, and then had a most pleasant wander through the now denuded, bright yellow or crimson vines.

Síle spotted a blue herb growing in the ditch and it’s aromatic smell was easily recognisable as Oregano.
Thinking of the dinner (of course) I pocketed a large bunch.

Once home I was impatient to begin.
I have great memories of The Sunday Roast in Síle’s family’s home in Skerries.
All through our courting years and long after it was a tradition.
Huge platefuls of roast beef and roast potatoes.

The potatoes were always cooked with the beef in the tin and so had a great flavour but were never truly crisp.
I had a notion of trying to fix that today.

But first the lamb.
I set the oven to 220C and let it come up to heat.
While this was happening I stripped my bunch of oregano off its stem and chopped it finely with about three fat cloves of garlic.
I added a tablespoon of lemon juice to this, a heavy handed grating of black pepper, and a good dollop of olive oil.
This mixture I now rubbed well into the shoulder of lamb, and then put it in a large roasting tin in the oven.

We have always had trouble roasting and mashing potatoes here as the French don’t go in for the floury spud like we do in Ireland.
However I have discovered that there is one good variety , the mona lisa, which our local SuperU get in from time to time.

These lads I now peeled and brought to the boil in some salted water and simmered for about 15 minutes.

At this stage the Lamb was throwing off some of its fat and sizzling nicely.
I drained off the potatoes into a sieve to make sure they were really dry.
I poured the herby, oily, fat out of the roasting tin into a strong frying pan
and then browned the par-boiled potatoes in this until they had formed a shell, then tossed them back into the roasting tin with the lamb and put this back in the oven, at the same heat for another 30 minutes.
The only other chore I had was to cook some crisp spinach which I had bought yesterday in the farmers shop.
As soon as the 30 minutes was up I gave the lamb 10 minutes to rest out of the oven covered with tinfoil.

Then I brought the shoulder to the table and carved it there.
The only accompaniment being some of the pomegranate and grape jelly I made last week (Some redcurrant would also have done nicely)

I think this was one meal that lived up to all expectations.

The meat was still pink and very moist, the potatoes crisp, herby and mildly garlicky , the jelly a delicious foil to the lamb and the spinach just absorbing all the flavours on the plate .

So what could you say, certainly not a meal that comes from any one tradition.
The lamb a la Francais with the jelly and also a la Greque with its flavours.
The potatoes was just like my mother-in-law never made them but still very much in her tradition.
The spinach, boiled in plenty of salted water and then carefully drained was exactly how I had been taught to cook it in Anjou 36 years ago.

France has the upper hand I suppose, but then it deserves it.

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  Martin Dwyer
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