slow cooked breast of lamb

Still on the freezer clearout, we liberated a rolled breast of salt marsh lamb, and a cooked chicken breast. This is what I did with the lamb.

Put some haricot beans to soak overnight, then simmered them for 30 minutes.

Browned the lamb in some groundnut oil.

Into the slow cooker went: lamb, beans, one courgette, two carrots, two leeks (all diced), about six cloves of garlic, crushed, about 3/4 pint apple juice, some woody herbs (rosemary, etc). I drizzled a little honey on top of the lamb too. It smelled lovely, but something seemed to be missing, and after some consideration, I added a couple of generous teaspoons of harissa.

Left it on low for about 9 hours, topping up with a little boiling water part way through the afternoon.

Served with boiled potatoes and steamed broccoli.

The rest of the beany vegetable stock will go for soup, and I might well mince up the remainder of the lamb for a shepherd's pie - I can always boost it up with lentils if need be.

great Google logo today

and so it begins ...

and so it begins ...

Originally uploaded by ramtops

We were musing last night on how the kittens would behave when confronted with wildlife, as we tormented played with them with a bird on a wire (a toy! bird, I hasten to add).

Ron just sorted of batted it, but Henry went straight for the back of the neck of this thing (it's remarkably realistic - I must video them with it).

And lo, we talked it up - Ron came in this morning with his first catch, a small finch (I think). He hadn't killed it, but had it grasped firmly in his mouth, and when I picked him up to try to make him drop the unfortunate bird, he was going "thrum" in a most thrumming manner.

He wouldn't drop it, and instead got away from me and legged it up the stairs, where Pete caught him, picked him up and scruffed him. Whereupon Ron opened his mouth to scream in rage, the bird seized the opportunity and flew down the stairs, past my face, and landed in the shopping bag hanging from the rack in the hall.

With some presence of mind, Pete kept hold of the infuriated Ron, and I legged it through the house and out the patio doors, and decanted the bird amongst the flower pots, shutting the door firmly behind me when I came back in.

Had Henry had the bird, I think he would have killed it, killed it dead - playing with it isn't his style. But Ron has had his toy taken away, and he is officially Not Pleased.

Click the image for a bigger version - I thought I'd spare you the full horror of a large picture.

Originally published at the Tribe.

ramtops' twitterings

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