Bottoms Up

I’m racing over to Barrett’s Butchers on Englands Lane, Belsize Park. Need to hurry— they close at 5:30 p.m. This ain’t Noo Yawk.

S: Hello Handsome! Can you chop three of those lamb legs in the window into shanks and French them for me? God, it’s freezing out. You wanna coffee?

Bob the Butcher: At yours, love?

S: Cheeky git.

He snorts. The other butchers laugh heartily. It’s all meat, saws, and gristle.

S: How about a whisky— to warm you guys up?

Living in Britain gives one the freedom to drink at any time of the day in any public place I— I mean one— chooses. I leave the butchers and go next door where I buy a bottle of Jack, a stack of plastic cups, and two bottles of cheap Rioja (for the lamb). Four-and-a-half-minutes later I’m back at Barrett’s. I line up five plastic cups across the counter, snap open the bottle of Jack, pour five shots, and hand them out to the butchers, who have now all trickled out from the back.

Bob the Butcher: Just like the old days mates. Cheers.

I pour five more shots. They all toast this blog. The other customers couldn't care less.

Best Braised Lamb Shanks

Very thinly slice 2 red onions, finely chop ½ head garlic, and finely chop 3 Tablespoons of fresh rosemary (plucked from their hard stems). Open two bottles of red wine. Have an aged balsamic ready and waiting.

Rub three lamb shanks all over with crushed Maldon sea salt and cracked black pepper. Coat them lightly in flour and shake off the excess.

In a large pot with tall sides, heat a few tablespoons of hot olive oil and sear the shanks all the sides. Remove onto a plate and lower the heat.

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