Do you remember going out way back at the beginning of the dating career and thinking, “you know, there is something about this that I like, but I just know it could be better.” That is how I feel about the lamb I made last night. It was a nice looking, fresh shank in the store and when it was done I had no complaints, but there is a lot of room between no complaints and feeling like there may have just been a small and steady earthquake.
I am convinced it has something to do with size. I am going back to the store today to get the tiny shanks, and start all over. The first time around, I added red wine, clear broth, onion, garlic and thyme. Good enough I think, but for pushing the envelope of good enough into just a little bit of lamb bliss, I did some research. I have every book I own on the floor open to shank, and I have picked the brains of cooks across the web.
Plan B: I am making the pledge not to walk too far away into the rest of my responsibilites of family life and general stress and fatigue, and I am going to stick with the lamb until I know for sure that at any given moment the liquid surrounding it is maintaining an ever so gentle whisper of a simmer. I am sticking with chicken stock, but instead of using raw vegetables to make the stock, I am going to give them a good saute. I like the red wine, and I am adding the tiniest bit of carrot to the mix of onion and garlic that head into the pan after the lamb has been seared. Mr. Portale adds a lemon zest, which I have to say I like, so I’ll follow Mr. Portale. I can count on Mr. Portale to know what he’s talking about.
I will let you know how Plan B goes as soon as I have a nap.