Lamb Shank Redemption

To bring you back, to recover from the long and the hard of it. It may be necessary to sit in the limbs of the one you love and rest. Or to carry your chair to the top of a grass covered hill to feel the wild life of Spring happen at your feet and it’s breezes smooth your face.
The butcher asked me what I was going to do with the lamb shank. “I haven’t decided,” I said. I brought it home and let it sit in the middle of the refrigerator until it came to me–next to nothing. Just a heavy pan heated until wisps of smoke make their way up from the iron and olive oil rubbed with both hands across the flesh with salt. Seared until a crust forms–then out to sit by itself until an onion and whole cloves of garlic have softened. It goes back in with a bay leaf, a sprig of rosemary, a chopped carrot and a pour of stock and the tiniest bit of a beautiful balsamic that came in a bottle corked and sealed with thick red wax.
The same for chick peas that had been soaking overnight in a pot made for simmering. Nothing more than waking them up. A wedge of an onion, a garlic clove, a bay leaf and a sprig of parsley with a heavy pour of olive oil and plenty of plain water. Salt them when they are tender, and let them sit in their liquid. In the end they make their own soup, and side by side with the lamb, an elixir. Yesterday’s baguette toasted until pushed to golden, drizzled with olive and smashed with lemon zest, a little garlic and parsley pulls it into getting even better.

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