I love summer, I do, when the farmer's market is bursting with 18 kinds of greens, and all those lovely tomatoes and green beans and fruits that need nothing more than a light rinse under the tap to be enjoyed.
But I also love winter. When you can shove a joint of meat into the oven around noon and it fills the house for hours with a gorgeous, tantalizing, ever-evolving smell, and emerges tender as velvet to be served to a crowd -- right away, or later, or whenever you get around to it.
I recently made a leg-of-lamb from the Ad Hoc cookbook, but it was not this one. This one was the seven-hour leg-of-lamb from All About Braising, and it was better than the Ad Hoc version, which is the first time I've ever said that about anything from the Ad Hoc cookbook. I worship the Ad Hoc cookbook. But there's just something about braising the lamb until it falls apart that I like much much better than the kind that takes a shorter turn in the oven.
(And apparently some fennel I didn't capture in the first shot.)
(Doesn't it look like a Dutch still life or something?)
Winter. It's what's for dinner.