I've been locked inside most of this week, and I was just thinking I should something personal-like on me blog, and I was thinking and thinking and thinking and I couldn't come up with anything remotely appropriate, when all of a sudden I found this. (I don't see any permalinks so scroll down to the first culinary depication.) That made me think of Saturday.
By the way that blog (Pabulum) is written by a good friend of a good friend, and it amuses me to no end whenever she mentions our mutual good friend.
Anyway, on Saturday, I ate lamb off a lamb. I mean the kind that spins around, ever so slowly, over hot coals for eight hours. The head was missing when it arrived from the butcher, so alas, we didn't get the tongue or brains.
As you might know, I was a vegetarian for 15 years until about five months ago, so this whole meaty thing is still a novelty for me.
There wasn't much of anything to do for eight hours while the lamb cooked, except drink beer, put wood on the fire and watch the lamb go round and round on the spit. Ever. So. Slowly.
The best part was by far the stuffing. At about the six hour mark, it began bursting forth from the lamb's stomach like one of the spawn in Aliens. I believe my comment at the time was, "Wow. That's so wrong."
With each rotation a clump of stuffing would fall out of the stomach, all too obviously turd-like, and if you couldn't manage to catch it, it would splatter onto the hot coals.
Then I tried the stuffing. It was so truly indescribably good -- much better, I dare say, than the lamb itself -- and much worth the wait. Yum, yum, sheep's bum. I don't know what it was that made it taste so good. It was just rice, mixed with peppers and mushrooms, but it had been stuffed inside the stomach of a little baby sheep (which had itself been soaked in marinade for two days, on both the inside and outside) and then roasted on a spit all day.
It was so good, eventually I began catching as much stuffing as I could using a paper plate on a shovel with a long handle. Otherwise it was impossible to save the precious stuff, because the coals were too hot to keep your hand there for very long.
By the way that blog (Pabulum) is written by a good friend of a good friend, and it amuses me to no end whenever she mentions our mutual good friend.
Anyway, on Saturday, I ate lamb off a lamb. I mean the kind that spins around, ever so slowly, over hot coals for eight hours. The head was missing when it arrived from the butcher, so alas, we didn't get the tongue or brains.
As you might know, I was a vegetarian for 15 years until about five months ago, so this whole meaty thing is still a novelty for me.
There wasn't much of anything to do for eight hours while the lamb cooked, except drink beer, put wood on the fire and watch the lamb go round and round on the spit. Ever. So. Slowly.
The best part was by far the stuffing. At about the six hour mark, it began bursting forth from the lamb's stomach like one of the spawn in Aliens. I believe my comment at the time was, "Wow. That's so wrong."
With each rotation a clump of stuffing would fall out of the stomach, all too obviously turd-like, and if you couldn't manage to catch it, it would splatter onto the hot coals.
Then I tried the stuffing. It was so truly indescribably good -- much better, I dare say, than the lamb itself -- and much worth the wait. Yum, yum, sheep's bum. I don't know what it was that made it taste so good. It was just rice, mixed with peppers and mushrooms, but it had been stuffed inside the stomach of a little baby sheep (which had itself been soaked in marinade for two days, on both the inside and outside) and then roasted on a spit all day.
It was so good, eventually I began catching as much stuffing as I could using a paper plate on a shovel with a long handle. Otherwise it was impossible to save the precious stuff, because the coals were too hot to keep your hand there for very long.
posted by Scott at 6:01 PM
<-- use as a back-up
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