This is quite probably the most embarassing fact about me: Sometimes I think it would be cool to have a restaurant. Almost immediately upon thinking this, I come back to my senses. People who run restaurants must be fascists. People who own restaurants must be masochists. What the fantasy is really about is my constant desire to cook for and feed people.
This afternoon it's lamb shanks. I've managed this once: braised lamb shanks, served with a syrupy sauce, steam rising from a shallow bowl that would be the required vessel because of the quantity of sauce. It's to my way of thinking one of the sexiest food images, especially when it's complemented by a good dry pinot noir, a plate of thick slices of good bread (for sopping up sauce), and something green to eat. The variation I'll aim for today: roasted garlic mashed potatoes, with the shank resting against the heap of them, the sauce dribbled over the top and around.
I love the idea of someone coming into my place and saying something like, "geez, Doc, I've had a hell of a morning. I need one of your shanks."
This fantasy is frequently lamb-related, for reasons I shouldn't really have to explain. Few foods are sexier - bloody beef tenderloin filet mignon comes to mind, and maybe wild salmon. Lamb is also font of many weird puns. I once made a potato and summer squash side dish for lamb that I decided I had to call Shari Lewis. If I came up with a cream sauce that worked for lamb I'd have to call that dish Shanks for the Mammaries, of course. The purest of such puns is Lauren's habitual greeting to any roadside grazing sheep we happen to see (called out in a cutesie baby-talking-to-yer-pets kind of voice): "Hello! Hello sweeties! Chop! Chop! Chop!"
Grrrr! Grrrrr! Yep, gotta go get some shanks.
Edit at 10:32 pm: Some pics
This afternoon it's lamb shanks. I've managed this once: braised lamb shanks, served with a syrupy sauce, steam rising from a shallow bowl that would be the required vessel because of the quantity of sauce. It's to my way of thinking one of the sexiest food images, especially when it's complemented by a good dry pinot noir, a plate of thick slices of good bread (for sopping up sauce), and something green to eat. The variation I'll aim for today: roasted garlic mashed potatoes, with the shank resting against the heap of them, the sauce dribbled over the top and around.
I love the idea of someone coming into my place and saying something like, "geez, Doc, I've had a hell of a morning. I need one of your shanks."
This fantasy is frequently lamb-related, for reasons I shouldn't really have to explain. Few foods are sexier - bloody beef tenderloin filet mignon comes to mind, and maybe wild salmon. Lamb is also font of many weird puns. I once made a potato and summer squash side dish for lamb that I decided I had to call Shari Lewis. If I came up with a cream sauce that worked for lamb I'd have to call that dish Shanks for the Mammaries, of course. The purest of such puns is Lauren's habitual greeting to any roadside grazing sheep we happen to see (called out in a cutesie baby-talking-to-yer-pets kind of voice): "Hello! Hello sweeties! Chop! Chop! Chop!"
Grrrr! Grrrrr! Yep, gotta go get some shanks.
Edit at 10:32 pm: Some pics
2 comments:
Now that's food porn.
Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh.
Sigh...
Can that be shipped?
Post a Comment