The past five days have been a serious lesson in regaining balance. On Thursday, I didn’t like myself very much after a comment I made to a student. It had been a long day, and this student just so happened to ask one of my least favorite questions. It wasn’t his fault that he was Asker #85. It’s a normal question for an eighth grader. But I snarked in response, and felt like an ass. “No, We’re Not Watching a Movie” was my response, and I’ve read it to my classes by way of apology, so hopefully things are mended.
Friday, I got the bittersweet, but mostly sweet, news that one of my closest friends will be taking the English position I’m vacating. This is brilliant news; she will be amazing, and the room will continue to be filled with books, which makes me irrationally happy. But, whew, I’m really leaving, aren’t I? (Mrs. P, I could not be happier that you’re taking over!)
On Saturday, we discovered a fair amount of damage done to our fagarden (I know, it sounds like a swear word in Italian…which might be why it has so grown on me) by the two-legged variety of animal. It took about three or so hours to put back what had been torn asunder, and I lost about a fourth of the plants I had already put in. We kept hoping that we’d find out the damage had been accidentally caused, but some hopes are simply that, so it looks like it was just vandalism.
Then we went out and bought a new tractor. This is really good news. Though it is surprising that it’s good news, because if you had asked me about tractors five years ago, I would have given you a blank stare. The younger, less cool me didn’t know how awesome tractors are. Let’s forgive her.
On Sunday, two of our neighbors who had heard about the garden came by with a “We’re so sorry!” gift of a dozen eggs, asparagus, and a roasting chicken from the Essex Farm. Faith in humanity: restored. Melissa and Rebecca, you are wonderful human beings. I’m so glad we’re getting to know you. You add to the reasons we can’t wait to move.
On Monday, I worked so hard in the fagarden, it hurt to drive the car the four hours back to Massachusetts.
And now we’re up to today. I love my students. I’m really tired. I made an amazing dinner (if I may be permitted to say so) and I’m downloading a Journey’s Greatest Hits c.d. Steadily getting back on track.
So, dinner. We bought a lamb from a Vermont meat company that we first came in contact with at Boston’s SoWa Market, Westminster Meats. We love them–Desna is awesome to work with, and their product is delicious. You probably already knew this, but add it to the list of things I’ve never thought about: when you buy a whole lamb, it comes with lamb ribs. I’ve never seen such things, let alone cooked and eaten them. I did some web-searching, and found a super-simple recipe over at Serious Eats. If you’d like to try the original, head here.
After reading the comments, I decided to cut back on the water. I used a cup and a half, which, when combined with the amount of dried fruit, gave me a just-right amount of sauce. I adore sauce, though, since I like to pour it over rice or potatoes, swipe it up with bread, and just plain marry it with carbs/starches. If you don’t have these propensities, you might just need a cup of water. I added a small, peeled, smashed garlic clove to the onions as I softened them, and I used a mix of apricots, dates, and figs, because I didn’t have enough of one to make the called for two cups.
Instead of making the recommended rub, I used a Ras el-Hanout spice blend that I had made for another recipe. I used about a teaspoon on each rack of ribs; we had two, for a total of about 4 pounds.
Which brings me to the thing that might make people balk at lamb ribs. They are quite possibly the fattiest things I’ve ever seen in my life. And I know a lot of people will shudder, but I cut most of the fat cap off of the meaty side of the ribs. I left a very, very thin layer. Because while I know fat is flavor, there is nothing appealing (to me) about a dish swimming in cups and cups of rendered fat. (Well, okay. Duck confit. But that’s different. No, really. It is.) As it was, there was still a hefty amount of fat in the finished dish, which I’m solidifying so that I can peel it off. I’m going to use the remaining fruit and sauce to jazz up rice one night.
And the lamb and the fruit and the onions? Glory be, they were tender and melting and luscious, and the house smelled like a spice bazaar. If you like lamb shanks, you’ll like lamb ribs. Head over to Serious Eats and give this one a try! (You can also see a picture there, since I forgot to take one.)
Here’s to lamb ribs, restored faith, and the return of balance. Please.