Greek-style peppers with lamb, feta and mint

Sunday, February 15, 2015

I’ve been sitting here for the last 30 minutes, staring at my computer screen, wondering what to write. For the record, you’re more likely to spot Sasquatch than see me struggling for words. I usually have what amounts to some kind of brain purge syndrome where my posts fly from brain to fingertip in a matter of minutes, leaving me depleted, hungry, and questioning what country I’m in.

Speaking of countries, the topic today is Greece. And the reason that I’m so confounded is that Greece should bring back memories galore. After all, I’ve been there not once, not twice, but thrice. I’m not liking that word, but I’m sticking with it. It’s like a combination of “throw” and “rice”. Which is what I did once in Greece. At a wedding. So maybe I’m getting somewhere with this Greek business after all.

Our visit to Greece was the first major trip that Rodney and I took as a couple back in 2001. We returned several years later to re-visit Mykonos and Santoroni and tack on a few more islands (Rhodes, Corfu, Crete). We even did the completely optional/somewhat frightening several-day visit to Athens. Generally speaking, I should have Greek memories, and lots of them.

The problem with Greece – and perhaps it’s less of a “problem” than a “challenge”, is that much of your waking time is spent drinking Mythos (daytime) and Ouzo (nighttime). So what I do remember from our visits is patchy.

There I am, bawling my way through the last few pages of War and Peace on Ornos beach. (My copy, for the record, is still buried there, unless the department of sanitation scooped my treasure out of the sand and hauled it off to the dump.)

There again you’ll spot us buying strappy leather sandals in a street market in Rhodes. I should say ME not WE; Don’t ask Rodney how he feels about man sandals. Or Tevas. Or short haircuts on women, which he thinks that women tell each other are “really cute” but men strongly do not prefer. (By the way, we argue about this point constantly; maybe I’ll cut my hair short one day just for spite.)

Oh look! Now we’re easing our way along busy roads on a moped in Santorini. On a mission to find the one winery on the island. Not an adventure for the faint of heart or anyone over the age of 25. Mum, I survived, please don’t worry about this anymore.

I do, however, have strong memories of the food. Whether we were sitting down to a fancy dinner in the heart of the Old Town in Mykonos, or beachside at a little taverna, I recall a freshness and simplicity that still influences my cooking today.

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Savory

Mediterranean lamb shanks

Monday, March 18, 2013

I love lamb. It’s not an everyday food for us, so maybe that’s why I like it so much – it always feels like a celebration. Especially lamb shanks. Although lamb does grace our presence every so often, it’s usually in the form of stew or sausage. The tiny little chops, while delicious, aren’t usually my thing. Too much work, too little time.

My kids like lamb too, although I’ve always been cautious around the subject of what they’re actually eating. “What’s this?” is usually answered with a look in the other direction and the short but factual “lamb-it’s-like-beef”.

God forbid they actually mull the concept over in their minds. I’m nervous that I’ll turn around one day and my daughter is going to shriek “AS IN MARY’S LITTLE LAMB?!!!”. But for some reason the connection hasn’t been made….that is, until some kid in her class, probably the same one who’s discovered the truth about Santa Claus, is going to blurt out that yes, it’s actually Mary’s little lamb that your mother has been feeding you all these years. Thank you in advance little one.

But back to that special occasion lamb. This weekend, I’m cooking for my brothers who are both in town for some well-needed time with their nieces and nephew. I want a crowd-pleaser, one that will make the house smell like heaven, and is low maintenance to prepare. I want to hang out when they’re here, not be trapped behind my stove. Searing the shanks and letting them roast for hours on end tends to be my favorite preparation. It’s flavorful, foolproof, and gives me tons of flex time in case anyone is running late. I can just turn the oven down low and let the lamb hang out until their presence is needed.

Instead of my usual polenta, I fell in love with some beautiful springy green leeks that I spotted at the grocery store. Next to stuffing on Thanksgiving, there is almost no better cooking smell than leeks and butter getting to know each other. Sautéing them low and slow made them extra creamy, which combined with soft white beans, made the ultimate bed for the lamb.