Lamb Daube
Romanesque
It's lambing season. At least it is in Missouri where, last Sunday, Clare, one of Susan's ewes, gave birth. Call me sentimental, but when I see a cute little lamb like that it immediately brings to mind images of fields turning green, new buds on trees, daffodils, birds calling for mates, and dinner. Somehow piglets don't affect me the same way -- I go straight to thoughts of dinner.
For some reason, a lot of Americans don't like lamb -- or at least they think they don't. I suspect they've just never had well-prepared lamb. We don't have a tradition of eating it here and so many people have no idea how to fix it. And, too, lamb has a slightly gamey taste and, for palates used to the insipid blandness of most American beef and pork, lamb is like granola when you're used to shredded wheat.
This isn't the case in the Mediterranean countries where lamb and even mutton have a long and honored tradition. Spain, Greece, Morocco, and Turkey are all big on lamb, as is France. For instance, the LaRousse Gastronomique lists more than 130 ways of cooking lamb from the mundane lamb chop (Cotelettes d'Agneau) to lamb's head (Tête d'Agneau a l'Écossaise)-- and that's not counting mutton.
I know this because I was looking for a traditional French lamb recipe. In addition to checking LaRousse I did the usual Google scan and looked through Julia Child, Patricia Wells, and the handy-dandy, full-color, for-a-limited-time-only Time/Life Book of Lamb that I got for 95 cents at a used book store. I finally settled on making a daube. You can't get much more traditional than stew because stews have been part of most cuisines since pottery was invented. In addition, it's been cold and snowy here -- good stew weather.
Daubes are a distinctly French take on stew. In a daube the meat is marinated with vegetables and herbs in wine for some period of time (I have a beef recipe that calls for marinating for 48 hours). I wanted to do a daube with a Provençal accent and found a number of ideas on the Web and in my books. Lemon is the most common citrus used in Mediterranean cooking, but I found one recipe calling for orange peel that sounded interesting and Child suggested capers and anchovies. I decided to skip the capers and but go with anchovy paste.
To accompany the daube I made mashed rutabagas and fixed an apple crisp for dessert. And wine. I needed wine for the marinade and, just to be contrary, I decided on a New Zealand Pinot Noir. Specifically, I bought a bottle of Dyed-in-the-Wool Pinot Noir -- it just seemed appropriate.
Daube d'Agneau a la Provençal
2 lb lamb -- cut into 3"4" cubes
1 ea onion, lg -- peeled and diced
3 ea carrots -- peeled and diced
2 cloves garlic -- smashed
1 ea oranges -- zested
2 ea bay leaves
1 tbsp dried Herbes de Province
2 tbsp olive oil
2 tsp salt
1 tsp black pepper
1/2 btl red wine
6 slices bacon
1 can diced tomatoes, 15 oz
1/2 c flour, for dredging
1 c beef stock
1 tbsp anchovy paste
Mix together lamb, onions, carrots, garlic, orange zest, bay, herbs, olive oil, salt, pepper, and wine in a large Dutch oven. Allow to marinate for 3 hours, mixing occasionally.
Heat oven to 325F.
Drain and reserve marinade. Separate meat from vegetables (reserving vegetables) and pat dry. Dredge lamb in flour, shaking off excess.
Lay three strips of bacon on the bottom of a Dutch oven. Sprinkle with half the veggies, add half the tomatoes including juice, add half the lamb. Repeat. Pour in marinade and add enough beef stock to almost, but not quite, cover the mixture. Bring to a simmer on top of the stove and then cover and place in lower third of oven.
Cook for 1 1/2 hours. Remove cover and stir in anchovy paste. Return to oven and cook, uncovered, another 1/2 hour. Serves 6.
The daube was outstanding -- seriously good. As expected the anchovy disappeared as an identifiable flavor but brought depth and savor to the dish. (Anchovies can be sly little fishies.) The orange zest was best described as seriously fun. It didn't particularly stand out, but it did quietly and firmly make its presence known and it made me smile every time I noticed it.
The rutabaga, simply seasoned with salt, butter, and a couple of tablespoons of maple syrup, was an excellent accompaniment -- a combination of bitter and sweet to supplement the savory stew. The wine? Oh well. It worked fine in the daube but as for drinking it was a bit closer to dye than I would have wished. Drinkable, but only just.
It's lambing season. At least it is in Missouri where, last Sunday, Clare, one of Susan's ewes, gave birth. Call me sentimental, but when I see a cute little lamb like that it immediately brings to mind images of fields turning green, new buds on trees, daffodils, birds calling for mates, and dinner. Somehow piglets don't affect me the same way -- I go straight to thoughts of dinner.
For some reason, a lot of Americans don't like lamb -- or at least they think they don't. I suspect they've just never had well-prepared lamb. We don't have a tradition of eating it here and so many people have no idea how to fix it. And, too, lamb has a slightly gamey taste and, for palates used to the insipid blandness of most American beef and pork, lamb is like granola when you're used to shredded wheat.
This isn't the case in the Mediterranean countries where lamb and even mutton have a long and honored tradition. Spain, Greece, Morocco, and Turkey are all big on lamb, as is France. For instance, the LaRousse Gastronomique lists more than 130 ways of cooking lamb from the mundane lamb chop (Cotelettes d'Agneau) to lamb's head (Tête d'Agneau a l'Écossaise)-- and that's not counting mutton.
I know this because I was looking for a traditional French lamb recipe. In addition to checking LaRousse I did the usual Google scan and looked through Julia Child, Patricia Wells, and the handy-dandy, full-color, for-a-limited-time-only Time/Life Book of Lamb that I got for 95 cents at a used book store. I finally settled on making a daube. You can't get much more traditional than stew because stews have been part of most cuisines since pottery was invented. In addition, it's been cold and snowy here -- good stew weather.
Daubes are a distinctly French take on stew. In a daube the meat is marinated with vegetables and herbs in wine for some period of time (I have a beef recipe that calls for marinating for 48 hours). I wanted to do a daube with a Provençal accent and found a number of ideas on the Web and in my books. Lemon is the most common citrus used in Mediterranean cooking, but I found one recipe calling for orange peel that sounded interesting and Child suggested capers and anchovies. I decided to skip the capers and but go with anchovy paste.
To accompany the daube I made mashed rutabagas and fixed an apple crisp for dessert. And wine. I needed wine for the marinade and, just to be contrary, I decided on a New Zealand Pinot Noir. Specifically, I bought a bottle of Dyed-in-the-Wool Pinot Noir -- it just seemed appropriate.
Daube d'Agneau a la Provençal
img src="http://seriouslygood.kdweeks.com/images/lamb daube2.gif" alt="Lamb Daube Prep" align="right"/>
2 lb lamb -- cut into 3"4" cubes
1 ea onion, lg -- peeled and diced
3 ea carrots -- peeled and diced
2 cloves garlic -- smashed
1 ea oranges -- zested
2 ea bay leaves
1 tbsp dried Herbes de Province
2 tbsp olive oil
2 tsp salt
1 tsp black pepper
1/2 btl red wine
6 slices bacon
1 can diced tomatoes, 15 oz
1/2 c flour, for dredging
1 c beef stock
1 tbsp anchovy paste
Mix together lamb, onions, carrots, garlic, orange zest, bay, herbs, olive oil, salt, pepper, and wine in a large Dutch oven. Allow to marinate for 3 hours, mixing occasionally.
Heat oven to 325F.
Drain and reserve marinade. Separate meat from vegetables (reserving vegetables) and pat dry. Dredge lamb in flour, shaking off excess.
Lay three strips of bacon on the bottom of a Dutch oven. Sprinkle with half the veggies, add half the tomatoes including juice, add half the lamb. Repeat. Pour in marinade and add enough beef stock to almost, but not quite, cover the mixture. Bring to a simmer on top of the stove and then cover and place in lower third of oven.
Cook for 1 1/2 hours. Remove cover and stir in anchovy paste. Return to oven and cook, uncovered, another 1/2 hour. Serves 6.
The daube was outstanding -- seriously good. As expected the anchovy disappeared as an identifiable flavor but brought depth and savor to the dish. (Anchovies can be sly little fishies.) The orange zest was best described as seriously fun. It didn't particularly stand out, but it did quietly and firmly make its presence known and it made me smile every time I noticed it.
The rutabaga, simply seasoned with salt, butter, and a couple of tablespoons of maple syrup, was an excellent accompaniment -- a combination of bitter and sweet to supplement the savory stew. The wine? Oh well. It worked fine in the daube but as for drinking it was a bit closer to dye than I would have wished. Drinkable, but only just.
7 Comments:
Whoa - I always thought that your site, though chock-full of delightful recipes, was aesthetically challenged. But I finally bothered to look at it in Firefox, and boy was I wrong!
Apologies for misjudging you, b/c it looks really really great in a non-wonky browser!
Girl,
Well thank you! What browser have you been using? It should look decent in IE, which is about as non-wonky as you can get.
MMmMM, lamb.
I walked away from lamb bout 8 or 9 years ago. The stuff I was getting was too gammy and couldn't deal with it.
Until recently I purchased some grass feb lamb and goat, dang if that stuff is completely void of the gamm. I'm back, but am choosy now. What with being a food snob and all.
Been doing Opera and everything looks fine here, eh.
Biggles
Doc,
I do love lamb -- and haven't had a problem with gaminess.
Stephen sent me a note and said Safari on the Mac has problems, but apparently nothing else does.
Hi Kevin,
Thanks for sending me the link (and for inlcuding a link to FF). I did miss this great post--been a bit hectic here, LOL. Sounds delish--and I didn't recognize anybody in the pot. : )
P.S. SG looks fab on IE. Am still loving that warm background color every time it pops up.
P.P.S. I wish more people would give lamb another chance. Dr. B. is right--mine are grass fed and have absolutely no gamey taste at all. And the meat practically melts in your mouth.
Susan,
Things do seem a bit hectic out your way.
I did a class on quick lamb and beef dishes last night, I'll be posting the favorite recipe (it was lamb) later on today.
It WAS Safari! (I should have said.) But I've learned my lesson!
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