Las Vegas transplant in the core of the Big Apple. Food, politics, movies, culture and intellectual mayhem ensue.

Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Love me tender

I made some Irish lamb stew, more or less from scratch (the more: fresh veg all around, the less: canned beef stock) and more or less without consulting a cookbook, so the results were surprisingly nummy, everything managed to be cooked evenly from meat to potato and the soup was nicely thickened. It doesn't quite taste like stew, if that means anything, but it tastes nice.

The major failing in this endeavor has to be visual- the whole thing is very pale between the flour and milk. I figure this is what "browning sauce" is for, but I can't justify that kind of random purchase. Even if I have some extra lamb yet.

My love affair with chicken appears to be over. In just about every dining experience that would have me choose between the twain, it is the toothsome Biblical flesh I reach for. Go hard or go home, I think. Or the opposite, really.

I miss Sunday roast in England. It was reliably delicious (my kingdom for those little pastry things whose name eludes me right now) and a terrific way to feed a hangover. I was thinking last night I never dined better, more diversely or happily as I did in the East End. I went broke doing it, granted, but what a terrific way to go.