I found this recipe in a Mexican book years ago, so I often find myself serving the dish with soft tortillas, a salad and a tomatillo birria – a spiced tomatillo braise made with a slow-cooked joint of meat – as part of a Central American feast.
Braised lamb shoulder wraps with grilled tomatillo salsa
Serves about 6
• 1 whole lamb shoulder
• olive oil, for rubbing
• salt, for rubbing
• 2 tsp sea-salt wraps, to serve
MARINADE
• 2 tsp cumin seeds
• 2 tsp coriander seeds
• 1 tsp black pepper
• dried chillies, to taste
• 2 dried ancho chillies, soaked in warm water for about 20 minutes
• 1 bunch of coriander, roots and stems washed and chopped (reserve the leaves for the salsa and filling your wraps)
• 1 brown onion, diced
• 1 garlic bulb, crushed
• juice and zest of 2 limes
• 3 bay leaves
• 2 tsp sea salt
TOMATILLO SALSA
• 1 tsp cumin seeds
• 1 tsp coriander seeds
• black pepper, to taste
• a handful of chopped coriander leaves
• juice of 1 large lime
• 500g tomatillos, husked and washed
• 1 red onion, peeled, with the root end left intact, halved lengthways
• 5 garlic cloves, chopped
• fresh jalapeño chillies, to taste
• 1 tbsp olive oil
• salt, to taste
Preheat the oven to 180°C.
MARINADE
Toast the cumin and coriander seeds, pepper and dried chillies in a dry frying pan until fragrant, then grind using a mortar and pestle or spice blender. Add the ancho chillies and their soaking water with the remaining marinade ingredients, then pound or whiz until smooth.
Score the outer fat on the lamb, then rub with oil and salt. Heat a lidded, flameproof cast-iron casserole on the stove, then brown the lamb, turning it to caramelise every surface. Pour the marinade over the meat, add 2cm of water to the dish, put the lid on, then place in the oven.
Turn the oven to 160°C, then roast for 4 hours, checking now and then that there is still liquid in the bottom of the dish, so the sauce doesn’t catch and burn.
Remove from the oven and skim off the fat, reserving it for roasting potatoes another day. I like to tease the meat from the bones and fold it through the sticky pan at the table.
While the lamb is in the oven, light a little fire under a grill in the garden if it’s safe to do so. You can also use a cast-iron grill pan on the stove, although you won’t get the same deliciously smoky result.
TOMATILLO SALSA
Toast the cumin and coriander seeds and pepper in a dry frying pan until fragrant, then grind using a mortar and pestle or spice blender. Add them to a large heatproof bowl with the chopped coriander and lime juice. Put the tomatillos, onion halves, garlic cloves and jalapeños in another bowl, drizzle with the olive oil, then add the salt. When you have a bed of glowing coals, put the vegetables on the grill, turning often, and adding them to the bowl with the spicy lime-juice mixture as they seem done – the tomatillos will soften and turn an unappealing shade of khaki, and some juice will hiss from any wounds you’ve made in their sides.
If you like, use a blender to make a quick salsa, but I like to make a salsa with some heft. Roughly chop the onion, jalapeños and garlic, put them in a bowl with the tomatillos, then crush with the back of a wooden spoon to maintain their succulent texture.
Build up the fire a little more if you have one so you can sit by it and make wraps with your lamb and salsa – with perhaps some avocado, a little sour cream, lime wedges, coriander and a lick of hot sauce, trying not to let all the fragrant, spicy juices run down your arms as you blink the smoke from your eyes, but find yourself too caught up in the pleasure of eating to move to the lee side of the fire.
Delicata squash with butter, brown sugar, cumin & its own seeds
Delicata squash are unique in that they have seeds and skin that, when cooked just-so, are nutty, delicious and edible in their entirety. If you substitute a pumpkin with larger seeds, you’ll still be able to crack them with your teeth and enjoy their insides, but the shells won’t become crisp and edible as those from smaller squash. This sweet, salty roasting method is perfect for any pumpkin, whether you can eat the seeds or not. If using big pumpkins, cut into about 3cm-thick slices.
Serves 2
• 1 delicata squash
• 50g butter
• 1 tsp dark brown or rapadura sugar
• 1 tsp cumin seeds, lightly toasted and coarsely ground
• ½ tsp espelette pepper or paprika
• ½ tsp sea salt
Preheat the oven to 190°C. Wash the squash and use a sharp knife to cut it in half lengthways. Scoop out the seeds and the sticky orange flesh around them, then place in a bowl. Combine the remaining ingredients in a small bowl, squashing the sugar and spices into the butter. Using your hands, spread half the butter mixture over all surfaces of the squash. The butter will be a bit uneven, but the warmth of the oven will distribute it. Lie the squash cut-side down on a baking tray. Add half the remaining butter mixture to the reserved squash innards, then spread them around the squash into a flattened pile.
Roast for 10 minutes then remove from the oven and mix the seeds around a bit, pulling the browning outer ones into the centre,and moving the less-cooked seeds to the outside to brown them up a bit. Roast for another 10 minutes. Turn the squash over, then add the remaining butter to their cavities, and mix the seeds again. You want them to become crisp and the flesh around them to become sticky and jammy. Bake for a further 10 minutes or until the squash is tender. During this time, if your seeds are at risk of burning, remove them from the tray and keep warm until the squash is done.
Passatelli in broth with rapini
Scale this recipe up as required. I make one portion per person as a hearty main meal, or share it between two or three people as a starter. If you’re having a special dinner and want an astoundingly clear broth, freeze the strained chicken stock and let it thaw in the fridge through a sieve lined with muslin (cheesecloth). It’s a ridiculous but immensely satisfying thing to do; there’s no need for this step unless you’re feeling fancy – the bright green rapini looks wonderfully luminous through a clear broth.
Serves 1 as a main meal
• rapini (turnip and kale flower heads and leaves; cime di rapa), blanched in salted boiling water for a minute, then drained
PASSATELLI
• 30g fine dried breadcrumbs
• ¹/3 cup (30g) finely grated parmesan
• 1 tsp softened butter
• grated nutmeg
• 1 medium egg
BROTH
• 1 cup (250ml) chicken stock per person for a main meal, less for a starter
PASSATELLI
Find a potato ricer or passatelli press and insert the screen with the largest holes. Put the breadcrumbs, parmesan, butter and nutmeg on a clean kitchen bench or in a large, shallow bowl. Season with salt and pepper. Gently work the ingredients together, then make a well in the centre. Crack your egg into the well and pull in the dry ingredients a little at a time to prevent a lumpy dough, then knead together.
Some methods tell you to chill the dough for a couple of hours, but I find it can seize and become difficult to push through my potato ricer, so I put a wax wrap on the dough and let it rest at room temperature for 30 minutes.
Put a pot of salted water on to boil, a colander in the sink and a slotted spoon near the stove. Hold the potato ricer over the boiling water, then put a tennis-ball-sized piece of dough inside. Push the dough through the colander and, when the noodles are 5cm long, slice them into the boiling water. (If the water isn’t hot enough, the noodles can begin to soak it up and turn mushy before they cook, whereas briskly boiling water makes them cook quickly and remain firm.) As they float to the surface, which takes only a minute, scoop them from the water into your colander, then repeat until they’re all cooked.
If you’re not particular about a clear broth, skip the colander and slotted spoon and sensibly press the noodles straight into your boiling broth for a more rustic but still delicious dish. Add a serving of passatelli noodles to warmed soup bowls, along with a few stems of quickly blanched rapini. Ladle hot broth over and top with a little grated parmesan if you like. Best served with soup spoons, cloth napkins and candelabras.
An edited extract from Broccoli & Other Love Stories, by Paulette Whitney (Murdoch Books, $49.99).
