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Alexandre and Labrousse were ensconced at the long table in the window of a shabby chic restaurant on the Rue du Bourg-Tibour at the very edge of the Marais, the part where black-leathered-biker-gay yields with a surly sneer to slumming wannabe intellectuals from St. Germain who come to buy grossly overpriced tea at Mariage Frères—the restaurant had the apposite name of "Le Verre Qui Fuit" - "The Escaping Glass" or "The Leaking Glass" if you were feeling pessimistic. The walls were covered in yellowing cartoon murals satirizing some long-forgotten and incomprehensibly arcane literary rivalry. An un-Parisianly pneumatic girl polished glasses behind the deserted bar, smiling sweetly at a felicitous secret. At the very back of the restaurant a man with a blond goatee sat with a bottle of red wine making changes to a manuscript, bleating with rage each time he dramatically crossed out a word. At each ejaculation the barmaid shot him an anxious glance before returning to her private bliss.
Alexandre and Labrousse had not seen each other for over ten months and had agreed on a plan to drink a swath through the long hot afternoon and emerge at the far end faced with a deeply satiating meal, say a thick pave of foie gras followed by a leg of lamb that had been slow braised for seven hours. Their table overlooked the narrow street, all but deserted in the late afternoon. A remarkably thin and epicene young man in a pastel polo shirt and artfully crumpled linen trousers glided by on a venerable Dutch bicycle, resplendent in the sunshine, peering intently into the store windows. He glanced disdainfully at Labrousse and Alexandre and pedaled lazily on.
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This is a glorious way to prepare lamb. It will be so tender it can be eaten with a spoon. It's so good that at least three regions of France—Auvergne, Bordeaux, and Lyonnais—lay claim to it. Colette wrote movingly about it. Good as it is, it's virtually impossible to find in restaurants, except the one where Alexandre and Chef Labrousse have their final dinner; so you'll just have to make it at home. It's ideal for a family Sunday lunch, as long is the cook is matinal enough to be willing to get up before dawn.
Colette cooked it for eleven hours, but seven is plenty. |
Leg of lamb, six pounds
Lamb bone, cut into pieces and cracked open by your butcher (optional but will enhance the dish)
Onions, 3/4 pound
Carrots, 1/2 pound
Thyme, 3 or four branches
Bay leaves, 2
Parsley stems, 5 sprig
Celery stick, 1
Tomatoes, 1 pound. These can be fresh tomatoes or canned Italian ones. If you use canned whole tomatoes, do not add the liquid
Garlic, 6 cloves
White wine, 1/2 bottle
Beef stock, half gallon (If you have bouillon left over from the pot au feu this is a perfect time to use it. If not, make beef stock and freeze what's not used in this recipe.)
Butter, half a stick
Neutral oil (peanut, sunflower, whatever) 1/8 of a cup
Flour, 1 cup
Salt
Peppercorns, mixed, 10
Coriander seeds
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Rinse the lamb bone under water until clean and free of dried blood
Peel the onions and cut into half inch slices
Peel the carrots and cut into half inch rings
Cut the celery stick in two and spit both halves lengthwise
Make a bouquet garni by placing the thyme, parsley stems, bay leaves, coriander seed, and peppercorns in one of those little muslin bags you can sometimes find in supermarkets and tie it very tightly. If you don't have one of these at hand, put the thyme, parsley and bay in one of the celery sections, cover it with another section, and tightly bind the whole thing with butcher string. This nasty looking contraption will be just as effective as the muslin bag in keeping he little bits of thyme out of the sauce and will make it easy to remove when the braising is complete. Add the peppercorns and coriander to the cooking liquid before you seal the lid.
Coat the bottom of a large Le Creuset style dutch oven with a couple of spoonfuls of the neutral oil and brown the leg of lamb all over until it has a nice dark crust all over.
Remove the leg from the dutch oven and wrap it in muslin. After seven hours of braising the lamb will fall apart unless you do this.
Sweat the onions, carrots, and celery (but not the bouquet garni if you are using one made with celery) in the dutch oven until the onion is translucent and the other vegetables have begun to soften.
Deglaze the bottom with some of the white wine and then add the rest.
Add the stock
Add the bouquet garni and the peppercorns and coriander seeds if you're not using a muslin bag
Bring to a boil for a few minutes stirring gently
Add the lamb in its muslin and surround with pieces of bone
Add the tomatoes. If using fresh ones, cut in half and squeeze. If using canned ones squeeze. Squeezing canned Italian tomatoes in your fist is one of the more sensual acts available to humans. Relish the moment.
The liquid should be about half way up the leg of lamb. If not, add water. Place the lid on the dutch oven.
Mix flour and water to made bread dough. Start with the flour and keep adding water until the mixture becomes dough-like. If there are children present add a few pinches of salt and let them make the dough and perform the next step themselves.
Seal the dutch oven with a long dough snake you will have made. Do this exactly the same way you were taught to form clay snakes to make ash trays for your daddy back in pre-school. Wrap the dough snake around the join between the lid and the body of the oven and press it in to make a tight seal. Some dutch ovens have a tiny hole to let steam escape. Seal this with a bit of dough. Be thorough. Aim fearlessly for complete air-tightness. Rest assured nothing will blow up. The French call this process to "luter" and the bread is called a "lut." Feel free to drop this term, which even most of the French don't know, to your heart's content.
Place in an oven heated to 225 degrees for seven hours.
When the time is up invite the children to break off the bread that has been made around the lid with wooden spoons or any other implement that comes to hand. Important point: do not let the children do this unsupervised. They will get carried away and chip the enamel of your expensive dutch oven; truse me, I know. If you do it yourself be gentle as you will have no one but yourself to blame if you chip your oven. Feed the children chunks of the bread you just made. It won't be very good, but it will be bread, and they will have made it themselves.
Take the lamb out, put it in a serving dish with the muslin still on to keep it moist, surround with the vegetables and tent with aluminum foil. Discard the pieces of bone.
Pour the broth through a strainer and return to the dutch oven. Place on high heat on the stove top and reduce the liquid by at least half. And the end of the reduction, and not a second before, adjust the seasoning.
Remove muslin and serve with pasta, a gratin dauphinois, boiled potatoes, or a green vegetable like spinach. Alternatively purees—celery, carrots, spinach, or whatever—go very well with the lamb.
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There are obviously any number of variants to this ancient recipe. Some people line the bottom of the pot with fatback, some use olive oil to brown the lamb, others add a small glass of cognac to the liquid, others increase the temperature a little and decrease the cooking time to as little as five hours. Obviously, these have only the most minor impact on the final dish.
Like all slow-cooked dishes, it is almost foolproof. The only caveat is not to overdo the tomatoes.
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