Guinness and Marmalade Land Shanks

It was late one night. Mr I was (again) engrossed in Dark Souls.

I (again) was engrossed in food shows. 

Jamie's Great Britain showed a lovely lamb shank recipe. 

I had to have it. I had to have lamb slow cooked. I had to have the little flat smell of lamb slowly turning into something quite wonderful. 

Mr I, needless to say, happened to approve as well. 

I think this marks a turning point. For a long time, I liked my lamb firmly medium. I did not appreciate the magic of slow and tender lamb, falling off the bone. I often found a bit dull. 

But this - this was not dull. It was in a sweet and caramelised sauce. With mint oil. And lovingly vinegar-ified spring onions. 

This is my take of Jamie's lamb shanks. Recreated for my little kitchen. For two. 

Guinness and Marmalade Land Shanks

1 red onion, peeled and finely chopped

Raisins, one of those little snack boxes - or a good handful

4 tablespoons thick-cut marmalade

A splash of ketchup

2 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce

300 ml Guinness

2 lamb shanks

5 sprigs rosemary, stripped

Water and an organic stock cube (or the real thing)

Mint leaves

Spring onions

Cider vinegar

Take a large stock pot, heat some olive oil at the bottom, caramelise the onions.

Add the raisins, wait 20 seconds, take off the heat and add the marmalade. Swirl the marmalade so it starts to break up. 

Put back on a medium heat, add the ketchup, Worcestershire sauce - swirl. Finally, add the Guinness. Put on a low heat. Add the rosemary now as well.

Brown the lamb shanks and add to the stock pot. Top up with stock until the stock covers the lamb shanks and add seasoning. 

Leave on medium-low heat with the lid just barely perched onwards. Leave for two hours - make sure to top up with water and swirl around so the lamb shanks cook evenly and the bottom doesn't burn. 

Now crush some mint with some olive oil, leave to rest. Take the spring onions, cut them up, tear a few pieces of mint, finish with some cider vinegar. Leave to rest.

After two hours, pick the heat up slightly, stand over the pot, let the sauce reduce. The lamb shanks will then be lovingly glazed.

Take the lamb shanks out, liquidize the sauce (reduce more if necessary). Serve with sauce, drizzled with mint oil and spring onion. 

Jamie claims the spring onions and mint oil make all the difference. They do, but make sure to let them rest a few hours while the lamb is cooking so the flavours can really infuse. 

(A) Food Blog

A few posts have gone passed by and I am yet to say what this food blog is about.

This food blog is about recipes and reviews. My goal is to have this blog to be roughly 60% recipes and 40% reviews of restaurants largely in London, unless, of course, this food blogger decides to have a (short) jaunt abroad. 

I love food and have roped my (sometimes) photographer and (sometimes) appreciative taster, Mr I, into this little venture with me. It is a way of chronicling what I do - which is, admittedly, quite often cook and eat (and read). 

I love unexpected food. Or intensely seasonal food. Or deliciously moreish food. And I hope to slowly start to share this love with not only Mr I but with you, through this food blog. 

Memories of Autumn Sunlight: Chanterelles

Sunlight on my windowsill, drops of autumn orange that I chose from my favourite vegetable stand in Borough Market. Now, resting on my window. 

I chose them from this. For their memories of being in my summer house - dachya - in Russia. The joys of foraging for these creatures, these bright orange lisichki.  Roughly translated as little foxes. Chanterelles, as they are otherwise known. 

I do not know if this merits a recipe. But I do know that little foxes, chanterelles merit a post. For they sat on my windowsill, in the sunshine, proud in their orange-ness, evoking the little cries of joy at finding them underneath fallen logs - or if incredibly lucky - a whole 'field' of tender orange, glistening in sunshine, tucked away in falling leaves and mud. 

Chanterelles, (Sometimes) Done a Portable Gas Hob

Clean the chanterelles off, tenderly with a small brush. Aim to get the grime out. Do not put them under a stream of water: they are delicate. 

Maybe leave them to dry on a paper towel, if you are not very hungry.

Let a knob of butter, melt and spread on a pan. Do not let if get too hot! 

Add the mushrooms and toss, letting them absorb all the buttery goodness. Season.

Cook over your (maybe not very portable) hob for just a few minutes, until done and tender. 

Eat them as a side or as a snack - preferably in the autumn sunshine - with dark, dense rye bread. 

On Gems and Borough Market: Honeyed Carrots, With A Touch of Balsamic

I saw them, glittering beneath their dirt, layered and sweet.

Autumn carrots. Artisan carrots I could call them. 

Gems of colours, carrots that would turn sweet, yet savoury and every-so-slightly sticky, left to caramelise in the oven for a few hours. Carrots that would take on a different temperament, showing all the warmth and vitality of autumn. 

Carrots that I would serve, maybe ever so inappropriately, with some mackerel that looked so tempting on a stall and some (big, market, end-of-summer) tomatoes, sliced with buffalo mozzarella and basil. 

But, the carrots, the carrots I could have on their own, cold as a salad. Or paired with lamb cutlets. Or, as I did, paired inappropriately with anything you would like... 

Honeyed Carrots, With A Touch of Balsamic

Carrots, scrubbed, in cheerful colours (or just orange)

Balsamic Vinegar

Honey 

Olive Oil

Take the carrots, slice them into manageable bits (or roast little ones whole).

Toss them with seasoning, olive oil, until they are shiny and flecked with pepper. 

Cover them up in foil and put them into an oven, for an hour or so, until they are pliant.

Uncover them, toss with honey, enough to coat them, and a dash of balsamic vinegar for depth. 

Cook them uncovered for a further half an hour, letting the edges caramelise and them to fall into a delicious savoury sweetness.