It’s November, which means that Southern California will get bouts of cold weather in between bouts of really hot weather. And when I say ‘cold’, I mean about 60 - 65 degrees. If you’ve lived here long enough, 60-65 degrees entails falling in love with your sweatshirts (which is honestly the only form of a ‘winter coat’ I have) and eating soup again (ha! I first typed ‘soap’ which spell check wouldn’t have caught and would make you wonder how much of the sun has gotten to my brian. Ha! ‘brain’). All last week it was ‘cold’ (and I’m using quotes to repel nasty comments from my WI readers) so while I was sitting snuggly in my sweatshirt, I thought about making soap (!! SOUP !!) or stew for my new thing this weekend.
After perusing around Allrecipes.com I finally decided on a nice Irish lamb stew because I’ve never cooked lamb before and in fact, I had no idea what it looked like before it was cooked. I know what it looks like when it’s on the big spindle at Greek restaurants and I certainly know what it looks like before it’s dinner, but not raw. By the way, I’m sorry vegetarians. If it’s any consolation, I always manage to convince myself that the lamb I’m eating looks like this:
And not like this:
Please don't eat me.
Basically I like to think of my lamb as Phil Spector, not Mary had a little.
Anyhow, when I first printed out the recipe, I failed to notice that it called for 6 POUNDS of lamb. I think the recipe was under the assumption that I either had my own lamb in the backyard and/or I was attempting to feed 17 children. I obviously cut the recipe in half but still felt a bit awkward asking the butcher at Ralph’s for the 3 pounds and certainly felt that I should of cut the recipe into fourths since it’s only Kevin and me. However, my measurement skillz (with a ‘Z’!) have always been poor (I cringe when they pick that subject in ‘Are you Smarter than a 5th Grader?’ because I will always get the question wrong) and didn’t know if ¼ a teaspoon of thyme would equate to more than me waving the thyme container over the bowl and hope it got the essence of it, so I just halved it.
Here are the ingredients. It’s too long to list so I won’t:
Strange thing about this recipe is that it called for a pound of bacon. First of all, I don’t remember ever having Irish stew that had bacon in it and secondly, I just realized that I never halved the bacon like I did everything else. Seriously, that just occurred to me right now. Oh man, no WONDER why there seems to be as much bacon as there is lamb.
Homer Simpson would be proud.
Anyhow, so I cooked a heart attack’s worth of bacon while Kevin cut up the lamb. We rolled the lamb in some flour (that would be a great line if the lamb was still alive) and browned it in the bacon fat. Added the bacon and lamb to the crock pot and added the beef stock, onions, and garlic. Set the crock pot on high and let cook for an hour and a half.
While that was cooking, I cut up the potatoes and the rest of the onions. I cheated and bought the pre-cut carrots because sometimes I don’t mind paying 27 cents extra to make up for my laziness. I then aligned all the ingredients on the counter so I could give you my Martha Stewart money shot.
After about 45 minutes, I went to check on the stew. It didn’t appear to be simmering like the recipe said that it should. I reviewed the recipe closer only to realize that it said to use a S-tock pot, not a C-rock pot. I think I was so excited to use the crock pot again that my eyes saw ‘ock’ and went for it. This mistake meant that I had to transfer the contents from the crock pot to the stock pot (which in our house we simply refer to as the “big ass pot…you know, for the chili”) and try to boil it instead of simmer to make up some time. Kevin told me there is no ‘making up time’ in cooking, but I didn’t believe him and boiled away.
From Crock pot to Stock pot
Now’s a good time to mention that when Kevin and I cook and there’s some sort of boiling/simmering action going on, we will have a silent flame war. This is something I’ve never mentioned but always noticed….I’ll set the stovetop to around 3, let’s say, because I want it to simmer. I will then walk away to do something else -adjust the volume on the TV, smoke a cigarette, get a glass of water, whatever - and when I come back, Kevin will have turned the knob to 1. He will have walked away by this point, so I’ll put it back to 4…one more to make up for the 1 he had it in. Later, he’ll come by and set it back to 1, so on and so forth until it’s either done or he will exclaim, “do you really want this to boil?”
…which is exactly what happened with the stew. And because the stew took 2 hours to cook, it happened a lot. Regardless, the stew turned out perfectly. It was a bit strong in the lamb flavor the first day, but by the 2nd day it was great.
Oh! I forgot to mention that I added the potatoes, carrots, and onions after awhile, but I’m guessing you figured that out, huh?
IN OTHER NEWS….
I wanted to give a couple of shout outs since I’m here. First, I wanted to say hello to Bux who was gracious enough to bless us with his presence Monday night. It had been about 3 years since I’ve seen him last. With all good friends the conversation and laughing were easy and made 3 years seem like 3 days. He’s also engaged now, which is awesome, because he deserves to be happy. And just between all of us, I really have no recollection of making him buy shoes for a night in LA those many years ago. Not saying it didn’t happen, I just don’t remember it. Thanks Bux! You are always welcome at the Casa de Costa Mesa.
To Bethhead I'd like to say thank you for the awesome knife! Kevin and I realized it was the sharpest knife in our current knife arsenal and were very pleased to have it around.
Last, but not least, I wanted to say hello to my dad who celebrated his birthday this last Sunday. When I spoke to my dad, he was in a Packer bar with the rest of my family watching (what else?) the Packers and….doing Jell-O shots. He made a claim that the Jell-O was going to be good for his fingernails. I think he forgot that Jell-O isn’t good for your fingernails; it’s just MADE of fingernails. I love him regardless. Happy Birthday Dad!
