Showing posts with label easter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label easter. Show all posts

Monday, April 13, 2009

Happy Easter, thanks to Cooks Illustrated

I put the question to the Twitterverse - or at least to those 200 or so folks who are supposed to be reading my Tweets on Twitter: thyme honey glazed ham or herb roasted leg of lamb? Showing how immensely influential I am (inside joke), I got a total of 2 responses (interestingly from Jewish friends). One for ham and one for lamb.

In the end, the reluctant grownup got his way: lamb. And I made a mental note to start a family tradition of having ham for New Year's and lamb for Easter. I like the idea of being able to start a family tradition. Like if I decided every April 13th we would dress in cheap jogging suits, eat at Olive Garden and come home to watch Caddyshack - it would be our tradition.


(image courtesy of cooksillustrated.com)

For the time being, I think lamb may have to become a permanent family tradition. At least this recipe from my new favorite cooking obsession, Cooks Illustrated. (You will need to register to view the actual recipe, or you can come over and flip through my copy of the magazine.)

It was labor intensive: 45 minutes of fat trimming, 2 hours of brining and garlic roasting, lots of tying with kitchen twine, overnight in the fridge moisturizing under a thick slather of roasted garlic and herbs, searing in a pan and then finally into the oven for a good roast.

I would post an image of my creation, which was complete with roasted potatoes and buttery green beans, but someone left our camera-to-laptop cable at their office.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Happy Easter

Overheard at church this morning:

Small Child: Easter is when Jesus came out and saw his shadow.

So naturally, the hubby and I had a good chuckle over the kid's confusion between Ground Hog Day and Easter, Punxsutawney Phil and Jesus Christ.

Later on, as we attempted to leave a brunch gathering but were road-blocked by our 3-year-old who refused to put on his shoes and instead choose to run away jamming green peeps into his mouth, I hear hubby muttering and cursing "Phil H. Christ" under his breath.