John Willoughby's Tagine-Style Lamb Stew

We came back from Greece, where the heat nearly felled us as we attempted to see the Acropolis, to a Berlin that had a chill in the air, not unlike the one that usually hits New York in early October. You know, when the sky is blue, but you find yourself needing not only a wool jacket, but a scarf, too, while brittle leaves crunch and scatter on the sidewalks. Okay, I thought, time to haul out the winter suitcase from the basement, time to put the warmer comforter on the bed, time to pick apples for apple butter and pull out the heavy pots for stew.

I couldn't stop thinking about my grandmother's pot roast, you see. Or about shredded pork. Lamb stew. Pot au feu served with hot mustard and grated horseradish. In other words, meat, meat and more meat. From one day to the next, salads and light dinners made up of flatbread and meze were out the window, gone the way of the mosquito and the drippy peach. Now was the time of thickened gravies and spoon-tender meats.

Well, at least until the next heatwave hit. Today, sitting in my office with hot sun streaming through the window, it feels a little silly to tell you about this lamb stew that requires cold temperatures and at least one article of wool clothing to be worn by the cook at the time of preparation. But I swear that last weekend it was just the thing to spoon over deep plates of couscous and eat, gathered at the table with friends who tried to guess every single ingredient in the pot.

Since that's a rather dull exercise anyway, I'm going to come straight out with it for you guys. It's a crazy mix. There's lamb shoulder and butter and onion. There is a trio of warm spices (cumin, coriander, cinnamon) and apricot jam and red wine vinegar and garlic. There are chickpeas and red pepper flakes, prunes and parsley. In short, this stew holds everything but the kitchen sink.

The recipe comes from John Willoughby's article in the New York Times on how to make savory stews without that tedious first step of browning meat (which, beyond the tedium, also spreads oily filth around my kitchen, irritating me to no end). (In fact, I'd say the step of browning meat is probably at the top of the list of reasons why I hardly ever, ever, ever buy meat to cook at home.) (Do you guys now think I'm insane for calling the gentle spatter of browning meat "oily filth"?) (Oh, parentheses, I like it in here.)

His lamb tagine has you basically simply dump all the ingredients into a pot at once before stewing everything together until the meat falls apart with a gentle nudge. Now here's the funny thing: I wanted to cook the stew for a dinner party on Saturday night, but because I didn't want to waste any time on Saturday cooking (my Saturday hours are preshus), I decided to make the stew the day before, figuring that all stews benefit from a little ripening. Wouldn't you say? But on Friday, as my stew-cooking drew to a close, I was rather taken back as I stared into a pot of lamb soup that looked absolutely nothing like the lush, moody photograph of the stew in the paper.

My stew was wan and gray, even a little thin. Vaguely gruel-like. Instead of looking like the kind of lusty fare you'd imagine gorgeous women in a harem feeding each other, my stew looked like boarding-school stew. (I've never attended boarding school, but I'm pretty sure I read every English book ever published on the subject before I turned 16 years old and have also been blessed with an active imagination. Therefore I am an authority. Also on Moroccan harems. Thank you, good night.)

Huh, I thought. That is peculiar.

Was my German lamb shoulder to blame? Or the low lighting in the photographer's studio? I stared at my tagine-style stew for quite a while on Friday afternoon, completely stumped. Food coloring? I thought. Molasses? Did I miss the red wine? Finally, at a loss, I resigned myself to serving our guests a grayish dinner. This hardly qualified as a kitchen disaster, but all the same, I told myself that worse things had happened. I'd survive the humiliation. It might even taste good. I put the stew in the fridge and went on my way.

The next evening, I pulled the pot out of the fridge and carefully scooped off the top layer of bright orange fat that had risen and solidified overnight. I don't think you have to do this step, but lamb fat can sometimes taste a little...barnyardy and I didn't want that adding to the already unfortunate visual. Then I started to warm the stew, adding chopped prunes instead of the apricots that the original recipe called for. They swelled and plumped in the fragrant gravy, adding sweetness to the air. Just before serving, I added lemon juice and some chopped parsley. Somewhere in a Moroccan harem, someone's stomach growled.

And wouldn't you know. In that last half hour, the stew changed color entirely, going all mahogany-colored with little shimmering dots of oil, bobbing chickpeas and nuggets of prunes and lamb in varying shades of rich, warm brown. Just like the photo. Just in time.

A few minutes later, doled out to a table of hungry guests who seemed especially charmed by the prunes, that whole pot of stew was gone. The chickpeas and prunes all velvety-soft, the lamb swollen with flavor. I even had to bring out spoons for some of our eaters who had been staring rather forlornly at the sweet-savory gravy, brightened by the lemon and parsley, pooled at the bottom of their plates after the couscous and bulk of the stew was eaten.

Just like a bunch of English boarding-school students, really, heading for warmer climes.

John Willoughby's Tagine-Style Lamb Stew
For the original recipe, click here.
Serves 6 to 8

2 pounds lamb shoulder
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 small onion, grated (about 1/3 cup)
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/4 cup apricot preserves
1/3 cup red wine vinegar
1 20-ounce can chickpeas, drained and rinsed
2 cups chicken stock
1/4 cup chopped prunes
1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley
2 tablespoons lemon juice
Cooked couscous, for serving

1. Trim excess fat from the lamb and cut into 1-inch cubes. If your shoulder was sold to you with the bone and joint still in it, add it to the pot while you stew the meat for additional flavor (discard before serving).

2. In a Dutch oven, melt the butter over medium-low heat. Add the lamb, onion, garlic, pepper, salt, cinnamon, coriander, cumin, red pepper flakes, apricot preserves and vinegar and cook, stirring frequently, until the aroma of the spices is strong, about 5 to 7 minutes. (Do not allow the meat to brown.)

3. Add chickpeas and stock, bring just to a simmer, then reduce the heat to low, cover and simmer gently until the lamb is very tender, about 1 hour 15 minutes. Let cool to room temperature, then refrigerate overnight.

4. Twenty to thirty minutes before you're ready to serve, pull the pot from the fridge and gently scoop off the orange layer of fat that will have risen to the top. Put the pot over medium-low heat, adding the chopped prunes, and bring the stew to a very low simmer. Continue to cook, uncovered, until the pieces are nicely plumped, about 10 minutes more. Remove from heat, stir in the parsley and lemon juice, and serve with couscous.

Comments

[Ruthie@ the twice bitten]

I'm so excited about the autumn food to come: damson crumbles, slow cooked hoggit, plum and almond cake. . . Love love love this time of year.

[Robin (Hippo Flambe)]

I have been known to skip the browning step myself on occasion and the results were still wonderful. I then went a step further (in a panic when there was nothing to make for dinner) and made stew with still frozen chunks of lamb stew meat. Dinner was served that night and enjoyed by all.

Robin

[Joy]

Mmmm yummy. Looks absolutely delish. Great fall food!

[Christine]

I know you're in love with some guy you just spent a few weeks in Greece with, but I think I love the you in this post. Particularly the you in parentheses. Great writing, and it looks like great food too. Can't wait to try this at home.

[Kathryn]

I can't wait until it gets colder and I can make this, it looks so good.

[Sara]

I have to place my meat order with my meat CSA this weekend, so this came fortuitously--lamb shoulder is going on the list! I have made a (somewhat similar) harira soup, but I love the idea of adding apricot jam here--and your use of prunes. Do you think that was the trick that made your stew mahogany-lovely? (PS loved your comment about lamb sometimes being too barnyardy: yes indeedy, and I am one who loves lamb!)

[The Starving Student]

I can relate to the "oily filth" 300 percent! I was banned from searing meat in my mother's kitchen because of the fog-like hue it left in the air - before settling to the floor, making it all greasy and slippery. So no, you are not insane!

[Suzy]

MMmmmmmmm! So you have this in your house? As in right now? Hmmm....

[Katie]

This makes me long for the East Coast and the desire to retreat and cook rich food at the onset of fall...but the underlying dread of the long winter to follow, not so much! Thanks for the recipe--and welcome back from your honeymoon!

[Naomi]

When the weather here in the UK drops back down to the usual autumnal chill, I'll have to give this recipe a go. Looks fantastic and my little ones should love it! Until then, I'll delve into my summery recipes for a little longer. Glad to hear you had a lovely honeymoon in Greece. You certainly deserve it and I can't wait for the arrival announcement of your cookbook!

[Molly]

under the circumstances, i think you'd be entirely justified in calling it magic stew. how else to explain such chameleon-like transformation?

ah, for the love of a good stew...

welcome back, luisa. so good to have you back in this space.

[betty]

I have only ate lamb ribs and it is quite interesting to make a lamb stew it sounds like great comfort food

http://bitstreats.blogspot.com/

[Kristine in Santa Barbara]

Not that the recipe isn't interesting, but the writing....whoa. Boarding schools, warmer climes, grayish stew, prunes, spoons...I was hanging on every word, every visual. Really. Hanging on every word. Your publisher is very lucky. Am so looking forward to your book.

[The Travelling Chopsticks]

I know I have said it many times before - but I love your posts and the way you write! It seems so effortles. The minute you mentioned prunes you had me hooked on this recipe - I love cooking meat with prunes - such a wonderful combination! X

[Nicole]

That sounds incredible and I love the way you describe Fall and the change of seasons. Fall in NYC has been teasing us so far. I just ordered a bunch of lamb from a ranch that has a CSA so I can't wait to put it to good use.

[Karen]

This looks delicious. I wonder, is there any reason not to use dried chickpeas, since they should have plenty of time to cook?

[Shaheen [The Purple Foodie]]

I wanted to comment on your tomato sauce, but I couldn't. I just absolutely love the idea of spreading the sauce on thick toasted bread and topping it with fried egg. I don't know why I haven't done that before and even sillier, I don't know why I'm so excited about having disovered this way of eating it. I can only imagine in my head how gorgeous it might taste...

[Selkie]

Wonderful, but ... I grew up heading out at 5:30 AM in New England winters to feed and water sheep, and developed a strong distaste for lamb, a frequent dinner item. What might you suggest as a substitute? I am tempted to simply adapt it as is but meatless: I imagine it would be wonderful, too.... Ahhh, Greece......

[Kristine in Santa Barbara]

I just made it....without the lamb. I kept coming back to this recipe yesterday, trying to figure out what to make it with. I just can't eat lamb anymore, but the spices and the chick peas and the prunes....looked so good.. I couldn't think of a good meat sub. So I used some baby eggplant and some patty pans squash cut into largish chunks. I followed the rest of the recipe exactly, adding a little more butter and olive oil to replace the fat missing from the lamb. The vegetables only needed 45 minutes to cook. Very delish, very good start to this fall Sunday evening. Thanks for the inspiration.

[Stephanie]

It's such a melancholic time of year, isn't it? I mean, I am very happy to think about making stews and baking cookies and not worrying the oven will overheat our little place . . . but then I saw three different kinds of plums at the store today and my little gold sandals peaking up at me and knew I'd have to say "goodbye" for this year. Alas.

Thank you for this stew. I'm giving to my husband (AKA the lamb fanatic) to cook up for us this week -- after I've packed my sandals away.

[Tori (@eat-tori)]

Lamb, chickpeas and prunes are my favourite constellation for tagines (though there's a good likelihood that The Hungry One will add a great whack of harissa all over his portion). To me, the sweet nursery flavours are all I need to be happy...

[erin @ from city to farm]

That sounds beyond fabulous. And a night without oily filth is fine by me. :)

[Laurel]

Sounds perfect! And I haven't even had breakfast yet. My three-year-old is peeking over my shoulder at your pics, asking "What is that?!" (They love soup/stews) Thanks for this cool-weather welcomer!

[elizabeth]

Oooo--we made this last winter and it was so wonderfully comforting and definitely had that mahogany color by the end of the cooking time. I'll have to make it again once it starts getting really cold and grey outside.

Welcome back!

[carol morris]

Well, I laughed out loud twice while reading this post, so I just had to say thank you! I also wanted to say that to me, it sounds like you may just have a (closet vegetarian) living somewhere inside you...

[Coco Draws]

You're a great writer! Loved this post. :)

[Nuts about food]

I have just that pot on my stove ready for the stews I will be making this fall/winter. The idea of those plump, soft prunes really got my tastebuds working.