Recipe: Orange Braised Lamb Shanks

Oranges are always a big part of Christmas around here. Daniel's aunt and uncle live in Florida so fresh Florida citrus is always an expected and greatly appreciated Christmas gift.

Before Daniel wolfed down all of the oranges, I stole one for this recipe.  It was a big hit around here with scarcely a drop of sauce left for the house's mouses. 

I served the lamb shanks with freshly baked buttermilk biscuits with blackberry jam.

Orange Braised Lamb Shanks

• 4 lamb shanks (you can get away with 2 of you're feeding less)
• 2 tbs butter
• 1 large or 2 small onions-coarsely chopped
• 1/2 bottle of white wine (I always pick the bottle with the most amusing label)
• 1 1/2 cup water or lamb broth
• Juice and zest of one Orange
• 3 small cinnamon sticks
• salt and freshly ground pepper
• a dash each of nutmeg, cloves and allspice or a generous dash of your fav. pumpkin pie seasoning

   Pre-heat oven to 325. Sprinkle lamb shanks with salt and pepper. Heat butter in a large dutch oven on the stovetop.  Add chopped onion.  Just before onion is browned add the lamb shanks and brown on all sides.  Once the lamb is browned, add wine. Scrape any bits from the pan.  Add water, half of the orange juice and most of the zest.  Add cinnamon sticks and other spices.  Bring to a boil and stir.

 Transfer to the oven and cook, covered, for 2 hours.  The lamb should be tender and falling off the bone.  Remove the pot from the oven and put the lamb in a warm place.  Boil the sauce to reduce by half.  Add the remaining orange juice and zest.  Serve by pouring the sauce over the lamb shanks.  

That's the way that the world goes round

           Time is strange.  Lately it has moved so fast that I can't remember when I last posted on the farm blog.  Since then, we've butchered turkeys, set fence posts, hauled cattle and sheep to the butcher, held a sheep dog trial, witnessed the birth of another litter of piglets and a new bull calf by our milk cow Bailyn (my milking muscles are slowly getting back and shape).  My milking muscles are out of shape because one day in early October, I went out to milk Bailyn and the milk was bright yellow.  Colostrum.  I had a suspicion Bailyn was pregnant because of how she looked and I hadn't seen her in heat, but I didn't know for sure. Any rate, she was pregnant. I stopped milking her when I saw that colostrum so that she could save it all for her calf.  My hands feel like it was a year ago that I last milked Bailyn, but it's only been 2 months.
       On the opposite end of the time spectrum, butchering turkeys took an eternity.  We don't have processing equipment, so I made a scalder (seemed like a good idea, but the water heater element and thermostat in a barrel cut in half didn't work out as I planned, so we had to use propane) and we hand plucked the turkeys. 77 of them. Bad idea. I had some help from Emily, her brother and a friend, but there came a point on Monday evening when I still had about 35 turkeys left to butcher and my help had left or gone to bed.  So I didn't get to sleep.  I hadn't pulled an all-nighter in a while.  Forgot how that goes.  Time slows and slows.  Especially a task as monotonous as butchering turkeys. Cut, bleed-out, scald, pluck, cool down, gut, ice bath, repeat until our orders are met. Time crawled.  If there had been a clock, I would have fallen asleep watching the hands crawl by or the feathers pile up.  But that all seems like a year ago now.
      I guess it's like Navin said to Marie in the Jerk (especially the part about one day spilling into the next), "I know we've only known each other four weeks and three days, but to me it seems like nine weeks and five days. The first day seemed like a week and the second day seemed like five days and the third day seemed like a week again and the fourth day seemed like eight days and the fifth day you went to see your mother and that seemed just like a day and then you came back and later on the sixth day, in the evening, when we saw each other, that started seeming like two days, so in the evening it seemed like two days spilling over into the next day and that started seeming like four days, so at the end of the sixth day on into the seventh day, it seemed like a total of five days. And the sixth day seemed like a week and a half."
     Wise words from a wise man.  Any rate, all we can do is enjoy the unusual ride that is time, that is life.  Like tonight when we were frying chicken.  Somebody thought we could use our small cast iron pan.  When we put the chicken in, the oil spilled over.  Emily asked if she should worry if I thought the burner might catch on fire.  I said, "don't worry."  Ate those words.
      Fire leapt up around that cast iron pan.  I went to the cupboard looking for baking soda and Emily shouted, "flour!"  We doused the burner in flour, opened the kitchen door, cranked a fan on high, and laughed.  Then we ate a delicious fried chicken dinner.  Stove was old anyway.