Lamb bikinis

There is a legitimate reason for the title of this post. I promise.

Just - just bear with me, okay?

Lamb, the most expensive and delicious of meats, is not cheap at any time of year. I say this in open, naked defiance of those cooks who would have you believe that 'it's really very economical if you buy a large joint' and 'well of course if you buy it in spring it's going to be better value', because those cooks are talking out of their bottoms. It is an expensive thing to buy, and if like us you have been living on the literal breadline for some time, you will recall the taste fondly, but not vividly.

Morrisons, meanwhile, reduces meat down by an absurd amount if you get there late enough in the day, and so this week we had a lamb shank.

Writing those words is literally giving me shivers. Hashtag, I suppose, foodie problems.

Because we never buy lamb, I'm not exactly au fait with cooking it, but there are some things even I can work out. So I flicked through some cookbooks, mostly Nigel and Nigella, and then completely made it up.

Greek Lamb

Drenched in olive oil and seasoned with salt, pepper and dried oregano, seared in the same pan it was going to be cooked in over a hot stove and then covered with garlic and rosemary, tucked in with some halved, peeled onions, and shoved in the oven.

Our shank was about a kilogram in weight, and I over cooked it at nearly two hours on a low heat of 180 degrees. I would say it needed a good half hour less, and then twenty minutes resting time.

It was late, of course, because a) I got distracted by Strictly Come Dancing and b) as is always the way with a roast, everything else takes SO LONG. I made some roast potatoes which didn't crisp - top tip: make sure you spread them out in the pan, because otherwise they will sort of mush - and some carrots and spring greens, and then - oh, reader - then I made the gravy.

Lamb and Onion Gravy

I am really, really good at gravy. I make no apologies for this smugness. My mother has always been the Queen of Gravy, and as a child I was Chief Stirrer in our household, but I would even say, now, that I am giving her a run for her a money.

This week's gravy was less gravyish than normal, because of the sheer amount of fat coming from the olive oil. But the meat juices were mixed in with it, and so there was no point in wasting it. If I'd had some red wine, I'd have used it, but there's no way we can afford a bottle of wine and lamb in the same week. As it was, the onions had just melted into softeness, and I poured in about a tablespoon of chicken gravy granules (don't use beef, there's no point, you'll lose all the lamb flavour), some water, and then I just heated it up, complete with all the delicious seasonings from earlier. No additional flavours needed, though for god's sake any meat juices must go back in, and do scrape the trivet for additional gunky bits. I suppose you could include cream, but my advice with cream in gravy is don't.

It started bubbling, and then it was thick and gorgeous, and we poured it over the meat and potatoes and ate while watching The Village.

Lamb Bikinis

Back in university, I adapted and directed a production of Neil Gaiman's book Neverwhere. It went well, and the cast were superb, but the actor who played Mr Croup - my dear friend Nick - simply could not say one of his lines.

What? No Mister 'I'm So Clever and Know Everything' Marquis? No 'Oh, didn't I tell you? Whoops! I can't go upstairs?' Hunter? Well, paint me grey and call me a dire wolf if it isn't two little lost lambikins, out on their own, after dark.

Except what Nick said, every single time, was lamb bikinis. And this sent him and all the other actors into hysterics. I don't remember if we had to cut it, in the end, but I do know that lamb will now forever make me chuckle.