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petermorwood · 7 months

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Sunday lunch, or - since what with one thing and another we ate closer to dinnertime, it might be more of a Sunday dinch. :->

It was Moroccan-style braised lamb shanks, and it was really good; after 24 hours or marination and about three hours of slow cooking, the lamb was literally off-the-bone edge-of-the-fork tender.

Because the spicing was so complex (though NB like most North African dishes, not hot) we went for a simple accompaniment, plain couscous with a few strips of home-made preserved lemon to balance the deep, rich flavours.

I also included a dab of harissa with mine, and a couple of pickled chillis for zing.

Meat and recipe both came from Irish on-line source James Whelan.

I think this would work well in a slow-cooker.

BTW, on-line recipes like this can change with the seasons, so I'm adding it below the cut.

*****

For a more fragrant and pungent dish, the lamb can be covered in clingfilm and marinated in the fridge for up to 24 hours to allow the spices to penetrate the meat. The accompanying couscous can be jazzed up with pistachio nuts and dried fruits.

Moroccan Style Braised Lamb Shanks – Printer Friendly Download

Ingredients

4 lamb shanks, well trimmed

1 tablesp. paprika

1 teasp. each ground coriander, cumin, cinnamon and turmeric

Sea salt and cracked black pepper

2 tablesp. olive oil

1 large onion, roughly chopped

2 garlic cloves, chopped

2½ cm piece peeled fresh root ginger, chopped

450ml chicken or lamb stock

2 x 400g cans chopped tomatoes

1 tablesp. clear honey

Squeeze of lemon juice

Serve with a bowl of couscous

Serves: 4

To Cook

Cooking Time: 2¾ hours

Preheat the oven to Gas Mark 3, 160ºC (325ºF).

Heat a large frying pan.

Mix together the paprika, coriander, cumin, cinnamon, turmeric and one teaspoon of pepper in a large bowl.

Add the lamb shanks and using your hands rub in the spices.

Add a little of the olive oil to the heated pan and quickly brown off two of the spiced lamb shanks.

Transfer to a casserole dish with a lid and repeat with the remaining lamb shanks.

Meanwhile, place the onion, garlic and ginger in a food processor or mini-blender and pulse until finely minced.

Add another tablespoon of the olive oil to the pan, then add the onion mixture and sauté for 3-4 minutes until well softened and coloured from the spices left in the bottom of the frying pan.

Pour a little of the stock into the pan, stirring to combine and then tip over the lamb shanks.

Add the remaining stock with the tomatoes and honey, stirring gently until evenly combined.

Cover with the lid and cook for 2-2½ hours until the lamb shanks are meltingly tender and the meat is ready to fall off the bone.

Add a squeeze of lemon juice and season to taste.

We hope you enjoyed reading this post by Pat Whelan of James Whelan Butchers. Pat is a 5th generation butcher, cook book author and the director of James Whelan Butchers with shops in Clonmel, the Avoca Handweavers Rathcoole and Kilmacanogue, Dunnes Stores Cornelscourt, Rathmines and Swords in Dublin.

#food and drink #recipes #Moroccan-style braised lamb shanks

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liesmyth · 1 year

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22 favourite reads of 2022!

Yes, that’s a lot of books but also: you can’t ever have too many books. These are some of my favourite reads of the year, arranged by a very rigorous (joke) vibe-based categorization method that I made up myself

✧ the push by ashley audrain — Favourite novel about Creepy Children; alternatively: Favourite novel about A Woman Going Fucking Through It.

✧ bunny by mona awad — Favourite "what the fuck did I read” book, lives at the intersection of litfic and horror, and it’s like if the girlblogging side of tumblr got a MFA (this is a compliment)

✧ jonathan strange & mr norrell by susanna clarke — Favourite fantasy (with bonus footnotes, cruel faeries, and alternate history)

✧ bringing down the duke by evie dunmore — Favourite historical romance

✧ the witch elm by tana french — Favourite book about terrible characters suffering. Techically also a mystery thriller but the POV does the heavy lifting in why it’s so good

✧ the echo wife by sarah gailey — Favourite speculative fiction that makes a very good case for clonefucking

✧ the plot by jean hanff korelitz — Favourite litfic with a bonus side of Woman, Unhinged

✧ last tang standing by lauren ho + lucie yi is not a romantic also by lauren ho — Favourite romance, specifically: favourite het romance about a career woman over 30 who’s going through it in Singapore, and also the leading men are adorable”. Stellar audiobook version too

✧ my heart is a chainsaw by stephen graham jones — Favourite horror and favourite Horror Final Girl ft. lesbian vibes

✧ erotic stories for punjabi widows by balli kaur jaswal — Favourite contemporary fiction, and also this is THE book you should gift to people. It has universal appeal and it’s wicked fun and might make you cry

✧ long bright river by liz moore — Favourite murder mystery that’s actually about disfunctional families and your own inner demons. Basically, the Dublin Murder Squad school of sad detectives.

✧ apples never fall by liane moriarty — Favourite domestic suspense but it’s Liane Moriarty so it’s inevitably forthy domestic suspense about middle class het Sydney couples with children. It’s also infuriatingly well written

✧ a deadly education by naomi novik — Favourite YA ft. plucky goth babygirl with death powers

✧ empire of pain by patrick radden keefe — Favourite nonfiction

✧ the last of the wine by mary renault — Favourite homoerotic historical fiction

✧ houston, houston, do you read? by james tiptree jr. — Favourite novella + favourite scifi. Technically a reread but it’s great and you should read it so here it goes! Also I needed a fave story In Space that wasn’t Harrow The Ninth

✧ the feminist by tony tulathimutte — Favourite short story

✧ the cherry robbers by sarai walker — Favourite gothic vibes historical fiction, and also ghosts and lesbians

✧ fingersmit by sarah waters — Favourite historical fiction about scheming Victorian lesbians. If you’ve watched The Handmaiden, this is the book that inspired it

✧ thank you for listening by julia whelan — Favourite book about books, specifically Book About Making Romance Audioplays. Stellar audio version, too

✧ the last housewife by ashley winstead — Favourite book that’ll make you feel physical discomfort and make you want to commit murder. I loved this book and I want to tattoo it to the inside of my eyeballs but also: the content warnings aren’t fucking around

#book talk #book rec #*sobbing and crying*#i love books #these are 21 very specific categories and lauren ho gets 2 recs #pinned

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johnschneiderblog · 5 months

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Red Rocks encore

Come spring, Lord Huron's western path will lead eventually - and inexorably - to that outdoor-concert mecca formed, miraculously, from giant sandstone outcroppings in Morrison, Colorado.

I've seen LH in many fine venues - from Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, to the raucous Whelan's Pub, in Dublin - and I must agree with the World Enders (the band's fan club): There's nothing like LH at Red Rocks Amphitheatre.

This poster shows only one Red Rocks date but that sold out almost instantly and a second show has been added for May 30, which means that Sharon may get another 10,000-voice happy birthday serenade.

#John Schneider #Sharon #Lord Huron #Red Rocks #second show added #late May concerts

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sweetdreamsjeff · 4 months

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Jeff Buckley in the U.K.

JEFF BUCKLEY loved British music; the nervous energy in British punk, the wired consciousness of the Clash, the way Siouxsie and the Banshees went from gun-metal moodiness to skies full of fireworks.

He adored the Cocteau Twins, of course, especially Liz Fraser's "impossible voice". He loved how the Smiths called to outsiders and nerds. He loved the textures of Johnny Marr's supple guitar and the mordant presence of Steve Jones's guitar in the Sex Pistols.

Jeff, whose own nervous energy was considerable, became even more wired whenever we went to the UK; he was stimulated by its variety. He also appreciated its compactness – the lack of eight-hour drives between cities was refreshing.

Sony had passed on Live at Sin-é in Europe. We were understandably disappointed, but there was a solution close at hand: Steve Abbott, known to everyone as Abbo, who ran the eccentric indie record label Big Cat and had picked up on many of the promising un-signed bands playing in New York: Pavement, Mercury Rev, Luscious Jackson. He had approached Jeff after Gods & Monsters and Sin-é shows and asked him if he'd like to record with Big Cat, but then Sony stepped in. Jeff felt that he owed Abbo a record, so when Columbia UK passed on Live at Sin-é and Michele Anthony instigated a funding deal with Big Cat, it seemed the perfect opportunity for them to become involved. Abbo jumped at the chance.

Big Cat's small team – Abbo, co-owner Linda Obadiah, Frank Neidlich in marketing, and Jacqui Rice in press – did such a good job that the week it was released in Europe, Live at Sin-é sold over four thousand copies, which was amazing for a complete unknown.

After a Sony conference, where it was clear that a lot of the affiliates were bemused by him, Jeff had a warm-up show at Whelan's in Dublin. By the time he came on, the crowd, several drinks into its evening, had become a little boisterous. Jeff said hello softly, as usual, but no one was really paying attention. Jeff just stood there, waiting. People started to quieten down and watch to see what he would do. There was a pint of his favourite beer, Guinness, sitting on the stool next to him. Jeff lifted the glass to his lips and downed it in one hit. Everyone on the room cheered, and he began the Irish show with the crowd completely on his side.

The audience was more blasé the next night at his London debut at The Borderline, a Western-themed venue under a dubious Mexican diner in Soho, right in the heart of London, a group of local reps for hip American indie labels like Sub Pop and Merge yacking away rather disrespectfully at the bar. In the age of grunge, a lone guy with a guitar softly singing Edith Piaf covers was baffling for some.

"It was an epiphany for me," says Sara Silver, Sony's European head of marketing. "There are some shows where it just feels like you're a voyeur, looking into someone's soul. This was one of those. He was charismatic, but also haunting, and I think because of my particular situation at the time, still suffering from the [loss of my husband], he resonated hugely. This haunting sound was a powerful force, and it was my job to work out how we took it to the world."

A gig the next night in Glasgow meant an early-morning flight back to Heathrow the following morning to catch a session with GLR, London's local BBC station, a slot designed to alert people to the next couple of gigs at the Garage in Islington and at Bunjies, a cute little basement folk club in Central London that dated back to the early 1960s and made Sin-é seem generously proportioned.

Abbo was accompanying Jeff on this run.

"We'd meet regularly at a bar called Tom & Jerry's in New York, hang out and drink Guinness together," Abbo says, "I suppose I became a friend of his, and he didn't seem to have many real friends. I'd only discovered I liked the blues since living in New York, so it was great hanging with him, because he was a huge blues and jazz fan and if there was a guitar around he had to pick it up and show off. He knew every Robert Johnson song, every Muddy Waters tune, Bessie Smith; he introduced me to the physicality of the blues, watching it at close quarters. Everybody talks about his voice, but he was a brilliant guitarist. The guitar was an extension of his body.

"Tim Buckley hadn't really entered my line of vision growing up listening to black music. Singer-songwriters with fluffy hairstyles were not currency on my council estate in Luton! We were in Tom & Jerry's and someone said to Jeff, 'I've been listening to your dad,' and I said, 'Who's your dad?' and he said, 'Tim Buckley.' I knew the name from record shopping; I'd seen the sleeves in the racks, but that's it. But when he came over to Britain there were loads of Tim Buckley fans. And it was a real problem early on, because he really didn't like talking about him."

The traffic from the airport to the GLR studios just off Baker Street was awful. A road accident had slowed everything to a standstill. Jeff's slot on the mid-morning show was fast approaching. "Of course, this was before mobile phones, so I had no way of communicating with the radio station that we were stuck in traffic," says Abbo. "For the last few days on this tour, everyone who'd interviewed Jeff had been asking about his dad. How did Tim write 'Song To The Siren'? Was there stuff in his lyrics that he might have related to? Things Jeff couldn't answer.

"We were listening to GLR while we waited in traffic and the presenter kept saying, 'We're supposed to have this artist, Tim Buckley's son, turning up, but he's late....Will he or won't he turn up?' This went on and on. She must have said 'Tim Buckley's son' about four times and didn't mention Jeff once. Suddenly, he just kicked my car radio in with his big DMs [Doc Martens], just smashed the fascia and then sat back sulking all the way there. I could get another radio, of course, but I was mostly worried he wasn't going to do the performance.

"We finally arrived about forty minutes late and they were all so rude to us, and yet they knew what the problem was, as they were broadcasting traffic updates and warnings of delays themselves. If I were him, I'd have walked out. The female presenter was a typical local radio DJ, a bit gushy and knew nothing about him and his music. I had a word with the station manager to ask her to stop mentioning Tim Buckley, and he handed her a note to that effect. Jeff just sat there silently and she said, 'What are you going to play?' and Jeff said, 'A song.' I'm thinking, 'Oh god, here we go.' And he started to play "Grace." He did this long guitar introduction, went on for about a minute, like he needed to calm himself down before he got to the actual start of the song, and then he launched into the most electrifying performance. The best I ever heard him do it.

"There were about six phones in the control room, and they all started lighting up. 'Who is this? Who is this? It's amazing!' And all the time, Jeff's getting more and more into it. The presenter went from being this standoffish woman to...I swear she would have thrown herself on him given half a chance, the second he finished singing. You could see she was totally enthralled."

Presenter: "You looked quite exhausted at the end of the song."

Jeff: "I was getting a lot of anger out. Something happened on the way here..."

"The phones didn't stop throughout the next song. The station manager said that in all his twelve years at the station, he'd never seen a reaction like it."

Abbo thinks this performance sparked Jeff's breakthrough. There were certainly plenty of people in line outside the Garage in North London that night. Inside, the first stars were taking note. Chrissie Hynde and Jon McEnroe were in the audience. Chrissie had been a big fan and a friend of Tim's, had actually interviewed him while she was briefly a music journalist with the NME, and she was obviously curious to see how his offspring compared. They struck up a conversation after the show and she clearly said the right thing, because he went off with her to jam with the Pretenders in a nearby rehearsal room. I wasn't carrying anything heavy because of a recent lung collapse, and I didn't want Jeff to pull any important muscles, so I asked McEnroe if he wouldn't mind. He happily hauled Jeff's amp downstairs to the car. The Pretenders' jam with special guests Buckley and Mac went on all night.

Bunjies, as I've said, was tiny, a basement folk club and coffee bar on West Street in Soho, along from the Ivy, with gingham tablecloths and melted candles in wine bottles on the tables and a performance area tucked into a couple of arches in what must have been a wine cellar at one point. It looked unchanged since it had begun in the early 1960s, and had seen a couple of folk booms come and go. It was more of a cafe with an open-mic policy by this point, which felt like a good place for Jeff. There wasn't really any need for amplification, so when we arrived for a sound check there was very little to do but see where Jeff was going to stand in the cramped space and gauge how his voice reflected off the nicotine-stained ceilings. While Jeff did that, I went outside for some fresh air and was stunned to see a line of people already waiting to get into the show.

I took a look at the guest list and realised we'd be lucky to fit twenty of this assembling crowd in the tiny space. Every time I looked up, the line was getting further down West Street. I went back into the venue and found Jeff talking to Emma Banks, the agent. He was saying how great the venue was and that he'd like to do something like hand out flowers to everyone before he went on.

"Jesus, you won't believe what's happening out there," I said to them. "The line goes about four blocks. There's no way these people are going to get in. Is there any way we can do two sets?" Jeff was happy to. Emma spoke to the club owner and was told they had some regular club night happening later on. She came back and said, "They can't do it but I've had an idea!" She disappeared up the steps onto the street, and I spoke to Jeff.

"What flowers would you like?"

"White roses," he said.

"I'll get them," I said, and went back up to the street, where the line had grown even longer.

I walked around looking for a florist and bumped into Emma. "I've booked Andy's Forge," she said. "It's a little place just around the corner in Denmark Street. He can go on at 10:30."

I bought as many white roses as I could find. Jeff handed them to people waiting outside and those lucky enough to get into the club, as he squeezed himself into the corner that passed for a stage. He sang upward, listening to his voice reflect off the curved ceiling into this hot, crowded, and attentive space. There must have been a hundred people stuffed in there.

When the show was over, Jeff walked up the steps to the huddle of patient people that Emma had gathered, plus anyone from the first show who wanted to tag along, and led this crowd like the Pied Piper toward Andy's Forge. Abbo was alongside me. "Have you ever seen anything like this before?" I said.

"Never!" he said. And we laughed liked idiots at the wonderful absurdity of hanging out with Jeff.

Jim Irvin, 'From Hallelujah to the Last Goodbye' (Post Hill), May 2018

Excerpted from Jeff Buckley: From Hallelujah to the Last Goodbye by Jeff's former manager Dave Lory and former MOJO man Jim Irvin (Post Hill Press).

#jeff buckley #jim irvin #dave lory #from hallelujah to the last goodbye

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