Silence of the Lamb

I love dinner parties.  What can say?  I'm Roman Catholic.  We built an entire religion around a dinner party.  Jesus knew that sitting around a table sharing food creates something special.  Good wine paired with good food creates good conversation  and that leads to good friends.  That is, of course, unless you cook the wrong thing.  Then all bets are off.  In fact, maybe that's what was up with Judas.

I've had my share of mistakes.  I once made salmon cakes for a group of people that hated fish.  Instead of raucous laughter and banter all I got was awkward looks as people pushed the food around their plate and asked politely for more bread.  Fortunately, I was allowed to redeem myself.  The next time I got this crew over I had sufficiently interrogated them ahead of time to know everything about their food preferences.  Then there was the lamb debacle.  I had made a couple of gorgeous racks of lamb, and I invited a couple over to share them with us.  Maybe they thought we said "racks of spam," but either way they were so fearful  of the menu that they passed on the invite altogether.  From their perspective, I suppose they figured that if I willing to serve up lamb--or spam, then dog and cat couldn't be far behind.  I never realized that some people think of lamb as some kind of weird ethnic delicacy.  Just for the record, it tastes nothing like chicken.  In any event, we never could bridge the culinary gap, and I never got them back over.  Suffice it to say that dinner that night was very very quiet.

Despite it's history, I love this recipe for roasted rack of lamb.  I still make it for guests--albeit with plenty of advance notice and express approval.  Make this recipe at your own risk.  It cost me a couple of friends, or at least a really good dinner party.


Roasted Rack of Lamb


1.  Gently saute a fine dice of about 6 large shallots until they are nicely caramelized.  Shallots are a weird little onion about the size of a small head of garlic.  They have a mild onion-garlic flavor, but pack the same punch as a regular onion when you are cutting them; prepare to cry.

2.  Add 6 Tbsp of balsamic vinegar and boil until all of the vinegar evaporates or is absorbed by the shallots.

3.   Add 1 cup of fresh bread crumbs and 3 Tbsp of fresh thyme.   Salt and pepper to taste.

4.  Trim all the visible fat from two racks of lamb.  They are fatty little devils, but fortunately most of the fat rests right on the top of the rack.  It's a time consuming step, and when you're done you'll look like a surgeon at a M*A*S*H unit, but you'll be amazed at how much fat you'll pull off.  Your heart will thank you.

5.  After trimming the lamb, spread about 1 tsp of Dijon mustard on each rack.

6.  Generously coat each rack of lamb with the shallot-bread crumb mixture.  Actually, you'll have a lot of this stuff and you sort of wind up packing it on top of, and all around, the lamb.

7.  Roast in an oven pre-heated to 400 degrees for about 25-30 minutes for medium rare.

8.  Serve with roasted fingerling potatoes and a seasonal green vegetable.  Pair with a nice Syrah or Shiraz.  Marvel that someone would pass on this meal.  Their loss.

Fun with Dick and Jane

Fifty years is a long time.  1961.  John Kennedy was president and Barack Obama was an infant.  It was also the year that my in-laws, Dick and Jane (yes, really) were married.  A fiftieth anniversary is a lot of things--it's 50 years of memories and 50 years of stories, but mainly, it's a really good reason to have a party--a fancy one.  And so we did.  We gathered the clan, which after 50 years has grown to 21, and pulled out all the stops:  china, crystal, silver, and a meal that used 3 lbs of butter, 10 lbs of beef tenderloin, and at least 6 cups of heavy cream.  It's the kind of party that, candidly, you really can only have once every generation years because I'm not sure you would otherwise survive it. 

A word here on fancy dinner parties, which I recognize are a dying breed.  It's funny really.  The average bride-to-be will spend countless hours figuring out her "registry," will dutifully ooh and aah at the haul of china, crystal, and silver she gets as shower and wedding gifts, and then she will summarily stuff it all back in its original box and store it in the crawl space over the garage.  For a very long time.  If not forever.  Instead, when she and her husband entertain, they'll head to Costco for a tower of paper plates and a box of silver colored plastic utensils.  There's a belief, I suppose, that if you use your good stuff, it will break, tarnish, look "used", and will otherwise never be in the wondrous pristine condition as when you first got it.   It's not a short step from there to putting plastic runners down your hallways and covering your seat cushions with cellophane.  Don't do it.  Use your stuff. 

Be careful with it.  Baby it.  Pamper it.  Clean it with ammonia-free detergents and store it in layers of bubble wrap.  And yes, I am fully aware of how much work that it is, but for God's sake USE IT.   Expect and understand that along the way it will get chipped, scratched, and broken.  That's OK.  Puttin' on the Ritz is fun, and after 50 years, you'll be happier for the memories than with unopened boxes.  Just ask Dick and Jane.

Individual Beef Wellington--a dish served best on bone china.
1.   Pat dry with a clean paper towel eight 4 ounce cuts of beef tenderloin-trimmed of all visible fat.  Generously salt and pepper.  (OK, I made 24 of these bad boys, which took 5 hours, and on some level was simply insane, but for an 8 person dinner party, this recipe really isn't that bad.)

2.  Heat about 3 Tbs of olive oil in a large frying pan, and sear each steak until it is brown--about 3 minutes per side.  Set aside and chill.

3. In the same frying pan, because you want to scrape up all the good bits of seared meat and juice, add 2 finely chopped shallots and 2 cloves of minced garlic.  Add a little olive oil if necessary.  Soften--about 5 minutes.

4.  Add 1 cup of Madeira and bring to a boil.  Reduce heat to medium and simmer for 10 minutes or until the Madeira is reduced to about 1/2 cup. 

5.  Add 1/2 cup of beef broth and simmer for another 3-4 minutes.  Remove the sauce from heat and refrigerate.

6.  In the same pan (because there are some tremendous flavors in this pan about now) add 2 Tbs  butter, one large Mayan or Vidalia onion, thinly sliced, and 2 Tbs of chopped shallots.

7.  As the onions and shallots begin to soften, add 8 large thinly sliced mushrooms.  Salt and pepper.

8.  Continue to cook on medium heat until the mushrooms are lightly browned.  Set aside to cool completely.

9.  In a small bowl, beat one egg to make an egg wash.

10.  On a lightly floured surface, roll out one puff pastry sheet and cut into 4 squares, each large enough to fully wrap one tenderloin steak, about a 6.5 inch square.

11.  Put one heaping Tbs of the onion/mushroom mixture on a puff pastry square, and then top with a tenderloin steak.  If you want to go really high-falutin', you can also add a small two inch square of pate, or one Tbs. of crumbled Gorgonzola between the mushrooms and onions and the beef.

12.  Wrap each corner of the puff pastry over the steak, and seal the seam with the egg wash.

13.  Repeat for each steak, which will require a second puff pastry sheet for the last four steaks.

14.  Arrange each Beef Wellington on a non-stick baking sheet, seam side down.

15.  Chill at least one hour and up to one day.

16.  Preheat oven to 425 degrees.  Brush the top of each Beef Wellington with the egg wash.  Bake 20-30 minutes until the puff pastry is golden brown.

17.  While the Beef Wellington is cooking, bring out the now fully chilled Madeira sauce.  Heat until hot and add 1/4 cup heavy whipping cream.   Spoon the sauce on that plate of china you agonized selecting, and top with a Beef Wellington.  Pair with mashed potatoes and a nice crisp green vegetable.