Sprout's Sexual Cafe: Braised Lamb Shoulder

Welcome to another installment of Sprout's Sexual Cafe, the cafe where we sexualize food, which may or may not be better than gastronomizing sex. I'm your host, Sprout, but most adults call me Jon unless they have a sentimental attachment to the previous moniker, which is fine. My staff and I are all about attachments here, but unless invited to stay, you will be expected to leave after dinner, maybe wearing one of my shirts. If it's the nice one I want it back. But oh what a dinner we have for you.

Ingredients

2 pounds lamb shoulder, cut into your best imitation of 1 inch cubes, seasoned with sea salt and pepper
4 small yellow onions, quartered
6 cloves garlic, sliced (No one stinks of garlic if everyone stinks of garlic.)
4 stalks celery, 1 inch pieces (I know, everyone wants at least eight-inch pieces, but seriously, that shit gets limp in hot liquid.)
1 pound carrot nubs (Carrot nubs? Well, in any Sexual Cafe you can't call them baby carrots. And who knows, someone may have an finger amputee fetish.)
1 cup red wine (That leaves plenty for transforming personality defects into adorable quirks.)
2 large sweet potatoes, peeled, 1 inch dice (We'll find out if my potato is as sweet as your potato.)
zest and juice of 1 lemon (Fuck the juice, keep the zest.)
vegetable oil (no original joke available)
Sea salt, thyme (use twice as much if it's sexythyme), and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Good. Now it's business-time. Cube the lamb shoulder. I know, it can be frustrating at first. There are bones where you don't want bones, and instead of giving a sweet massage, your knife is constantly probing and poking. What is connective tissue and what is bone? Just keep in mind that the connective tissue, cooked low and slow, is going to give your dinner experience the tenderness and richness that you deserve, that you've always pined for.

Put some oil in a stockpot on medium high, let it get good and so hot, and sear that meat (this will all be flavor later) for about four minutes a side (totaling 8, despite the fact that a cube has six sides). Set the meat aside. You'll want to admire it, but don't touch it yet. It's not cooked through. Haven't you ever read (or been taught in high school) the meat-handling instructions?

Toss the carrots, celery, onions, and garlic in the remaining oil and lamb fat. Season and caramelize a touch, but don't go overboard. We're building anticipation here. When you can smell the garlic sweet with your nose in the lovepot, add the wine. Reduce by three-quarters or until you can no longer smell booze. I know. I get impatient too.

Add the lamb back to the pot, add water to almost cover, taste the broth for seasoning, and put a lid on it. Sorry, I mean talk with your eyes, talk with your body. Cook it on low for two hours. What you do for those two hours is up to you, but if were up to me...I'd stir it occasionally. And always taste.

After the two hours are up, add the sweet potatoes. A half-hour later, I would put that shit in bowls, maybe garnish with a crusty bread, and eat. Of course, if you're up to something more fun, let it burn. Let's burn this whole town down.

We didn't even use the lemon. Well, it's not like this is a lemon party.
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Sprout's Sexual Cafe: Steaks and Potatoes and Corn

A lot of bloggers like to write about what they cook. I do too. I'm like them. I conform. No reason to look twice at me. I'm not doing anything illegal or immoral or some other i-word. Interesting, maybe.

The reason for the title is one day I was olive oiling up some chicken breasts to be cooked, and I like to get into that shit, and to my friends something about oil and breasts evoked sex. Who knew? So they made a joke about how there should be this restaurant called Sprout's Sexual Cafe. So, in turn, this will be a new feature where I share my recipes and techniques to bring gastronomic delight and maybe other sorts of delights. Enjoy. Or don't.

Steaks:

1) Buy the steaks, grass-fed, for that is the right thing to do. Cows do not naturally eat corn.

2) Pick three spices at random, use only slightly compared to your use of salt and pepper. This will give you the illusion of being a gourmet. Massage the spices into the steaks as you would your lover's foot, if you were weird enough to use the word "lover" and/or eat a human foot.

3) Delegate the responsibility for grilling the steaks to the man with the most facial hair in the room. He will do a good job. If he does not, forcibly shave him. On the face, you pervert.

Potatoes:

1) Fetch the red potatoes from whatever obscure cabinet I've hid them in. Peel them, because they've no doubt grown buds from their eyes through my neglect. Quarter them, olive oil them, and place on parchment paper on a cookie sheet or rimmed baking pan. Salt and pepper and rosemary liberally.

2) Set the oven to 450. It seems hot, I know, and that's because it is hot. It's so hot I almost can't stand it.

3) Cook for 40 minutes or so, turning once or twice or thrice, depending on how compulsive you are. If you are very compulsive, seek therapy. After done, tent with aluminum foil to keep them warm. Save the aluminum foil to use as a hat.

4) The potatoes should be a little bit blistered. Blisters are delicious, but not so delicious that you should omit using an oven glove to remove those potatoes. Place them in a serving bowl and butter them until glistening.

Corn:

1) Open a can of corn, drain, and put it in the microwave. Set the timer for two minutes. Allow your fingers to trace edges of the start button. Smile. Take the can of corn out of the microwave and empty it into a microwaveable dish. Warm that up. By that time your bearded friend should be serving the steaks. Ha! You've collaborated on a wonderful meal.

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