Never on a Sunday roast lamb

I very rarely cook that great British tradition, the Sunday roast, though I must confess that I'm very partial to it when it's done well, though sadly, however, it often is not. This variation on the theme, when I opted to cook a roast for a friend as a soothing background to grappling with key concepts in a script project—who said Sunday was a day of rest?—has a decidedly Greek flavour to it.

I grew up almost religiously raised on Sunday roasts of all varieties. With parents and grandparents who were very good at it, none of them scared to experiment, whether looking back to old Scottish, Cornish or German traditions or forwards to fusion iterations that included African, American or Asian influences.

Fortunately, I was never subjected to dull table conversation nor the British Sunday roast as a form of atrocity committed in the kitchen—you know the sort I mean; sprouts and carrots boiled to a pulp; chicken that looks so anaemic it doesn't have the energy to let its skin crisp or lumpy gravy that turns out to have come out of a packet... But, God knows, in adulthood dodgy 1980s English pubs and other people made up for lost time, subjecting me to the horrors from which my parents had shielded me. For decades, the British Sunday roast was dead to me unless I cooked it myself or one of a handful of friends who did know what they were doing took to the kitchen.

In the last decade or so, like many other forms of British cuisine, the Sunday roast saw a true revival, in gastropubs around the country or, indeed, in vaunted places further afield such as one in Antwerp where a young English chef had those Belgies booking three months ahead to savour his highly gastronomic variation on the form. Award-winning British Caribbean chefs had them howling in delight for vegan Sunday roasts in hipster Hackney and even the culinary elite had to concede to the movement in their Modern British menus. Once again, I was happy to dive into the Sunday roast circus often with very mixed impressions; some places were doing a fantastic job, others were simply pedestrian.

Sunday roast revival

And then, along came COVID. One true sad tale about Brexit that's still yet to be fully elaborated is that many EU citizens—even those with settled status in the UK—chose to return home during that unsettled time. Many have never returned. But, they also previously constituted the talent and force behind so many British eateries that, when things reopened, many gastropubs simply could not get the staff and have had to make do with often inexperienced staff, many of the more talented chefs having been poached out of gastropub world into restaurant world, equally hard hit by staff shortages.

The whole point, dear readers, is to tangentially explain why, last Sunday, I opted to not have a lie-in and instead cook a three-course Sunday roast. In short, since the post-COVID reopening of hospitality joints, I've yet to have a decent Sunday roast in an English gastropub. Nor am I prepared to pay post-COVID prices trying to find one. No, since we've got back into the habit of getting together around the table, the only great Sunday roasts I've experienced have been cooked by friends. So I thought I should see how my long unused Sunday roast muscles measured up. The result is this Sunday roast lamb with nods to Greek cooking.

Sunday, Sunday

As already mentioned, rather than a purely social occasion this was effectively a comfort food business-lunch-at-home for only two people. And my quantities took that into account. But, of course, it's rather a waste of effort—not to mention that murderously expensive energy—to not cook extra when doing a Sunday roast. A traditional bastion of easy meals made from leftovers, my guidance regarding quantities below would be that the lamb itself would feed two rather than three hungry men, but the rest of it would easily feed three adults. So, if you simply increased the size of your lamb shoulder role—the one here was approx. 550g—the rest would have easily stretched to three adults.

One the veggie front, I opted to walk a simple line between the most traditional Sunday roast accompaniments—carrots and roast potatoes—and a little nod to Greece with the koukia, the minted broad beans and the addition of sesame seeds to the carrots. Incidentally, the broad beans joined a curry during the week to my delight.

If one thing bores me endlessly in Sunday roast dick swinging contests, it's boasts and histrionic didactic demands as to how you make the perfect roast potatoes. Yes, the perfect roast tattie, crisp on the outside and fluffy on the inside, is important. God knows that I have friends who could win trophies.

But, mine end up pretty impressive too. The odd thing is that I seldom use exactly the same method. To parboil or not to parboil? No, that is not the question. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. I think you just have to find that potato whisperer within.

Furthermore, on this occasion and almost exclusively for many years now, I cook mine in an halogen oven. The way I cook them in this gorgeous device you would never think of heating oil in a pan before roasting as you would in a conventional oven unless you wanted to call the fire brigade. So, I'm going to detail my halogen oven tattie roasting method, but feel free to substitute the potatoes with your own preferred method.

The one "general rule" I would assert about roast potatoes, however, is it that it is better to use slightly larger potatoes and cut them so that they have sharp facets that become a focus for crisping rather than whole small peeled potatoes with almost entirely rounded edges that are more difficult to crisp.

Naturally you know how to use a calculator to scale up or down as needed.

For those who are interested, you can find my starter for this meal here. And that all-important pudding—in this case Jamaica Trifle—can be found here.

Shopping list

for the Never on a Sunday roast lamb

• Boneless rolled lamb shoulder roasting joint; 550 to 600g

• 2 echalion shallots, peeled

• 4 or 5 pitted black olives

• Salt and pepper to taste

• 4 cloves of garlic, crushed or grated

• 2 tspns caraway seeds

• 2 tspns fennel seeds

• 1 tspn dried oregano

• 1 chicken stock cube or jelly (or vegetable), diluted in 1 cup boiling water

• Approx. 5 tbspns olive oil

• 3 tbspns concentrated tomato purée, diluted in ⅓ cup boiling water

• 4 tbspns of honey

• A small clutch of fresh mint, minced or chopped very finely

• 250ml dry white wine

for the side vegetables

• 6 to 8 large-to-medium potatoes, peeled

• Approx. 2 tbspns sesame seeds

• A tiny dash of sesame oil

• Approx. 200g broad beans, fresh or frozen

• A very generous clutch of fresh fresh mint, very finely chopped

• a dash of extra virgin olive oil

for the sauce

• 50ml dry white wine

• the juice of 1 fresh lemon

• Approx. 60ml fresh single cream (optional)

Cooking Method

for the lamb

1. You can season your lamb roll with salt and pepper if you wish before starting to cook. I generally don't cook with excess salt, so I don't. But do make sure it has been removed from the fridge and been allowed to fully return to room temperature before cooking

2. This dish uses a "double roasted" cooking process to maximum effect: the first part is pot roasted and the second part is finished in the oven—or in this case, an halogen oven. In a large pot with a lid, heat the olive oil on a medium-to-high heat. Once very hot, throw in the fennel seeds and caraway seeds and stir. Very soon, they will start "popping". Add the garlic, stir and allow to sizzle for a few minutes, covering to prevent "spitting" if necessary but making sure nothing burns

3. Add your rolled lamb to the pot—be careful, it will spit fat if your oil is correctly hot. Using a fork or tongs, roll it over and over, ensuring the oil seals the whole outer surface of the roll. Once the surface is fully coated, slightly reduce the heat—you want the oil to remain sizzling, but it to not be so hot that it spits. Allow the roll to rest in various positions for a few minutes at a time. Keeping this in-pot rotisseries action going, you're going to spend about 20mins or so ensure that it truly browns all over its outer surface, gathering the seeds as you roll it in the pot

4. About 10mins into this process, pour in half of the white wine and allow to boil off. Add the shallots and black olives, allowing them to sweat, whole in the juices, stirring now and then

5. Once the lamb roll is suitably seared/browned all over, (about after 20mins) add the diluted tomato purée and stir in. Add the remainder of the wine and allow these to all boil vigorously together

6. Once these have reduced down into something resembling a thick "paste", gently pour in the chicken (or vegetable) stock. Bring to a vigorous boil for about 5mins. Cover and substantially reduce the heat to the point that the liquid is barely simmering. Cook on this very low heat for approx. 2 hours, turning the roll occasionally and stirring the ingredients in the pot. Once you've checked that the lamb is sufficiently cooked (ideally using a meat thermometer) remove from the heat and allow to rest for no more than 5mins—there's a reason for this

7. Decant your lamb roll and the remaining solid ingredients such as the shallots and olives to a dry ceramic roasting dish, allowing any excessive liquid to drip back into the pot before doing so. Depending on your planned serving times, you can do this some hours before and allow to stand, covered

8. About an hour before you plan to serve, mix together the honey and finely chopped mint, lubricating with a dab of white wine if necessary. Using a pastry brush or clean fingers, generously baste with the honey and mint mix and place at the bottom of the halogen oven (or on the middle shelf of a preheated conventional oven) and cook at 225° C/425° C/gas mark 7 for about 20mins. Turn, re-baste and cook for another 20mins. In the halogen, move onto the high shelf and cook for a further mins to fully cook the glaze. Allow to rest and them transfer to a serving dish

9. Carve and take to table to allow diners to help themselves together with the side dishes

the sauce

1. Pour all of the cooled cooking juices and any residual pieces of shallot etc. from your pot roasting pot into a jug. Blend to a smooth mixture using a hand-held blender, adding the lemon juice a little of the white wine

2. Pour into a small saucepan and heat on a a high heat, stirring almost constantly. Once it begins to bubble, add the remainder of the white wine and cream (if using) cooking in while stirring constantly, reducing the heat if necessary

3. You don't want it to overcook—and become savoury panne cotta—but the consistency with differ if you're using the cream or not. Once reduced and throughly hot, place in an appropriate sauce dish and take to table

the side vegetables

the potatoes

1. Bring a pot of salted water to a vigorous boil. Add you peeled and cut potatoes and parboil for no more than 4 mins. Drain thoroughly in a colander

2. Transfer to a dray roasting dish and baste (or spritz using a sprayer) with a little olive or vegetable oil and roast the bottom of the halogen oven at 225° C for 30min making sure not to turn them. After 30min, turn, re-baste and cook for a further 25min. By now, they should somewhat cooked. If not, cook for and additional 10min

3. Move to the top of the halogen oven, re-baste and cook at 250° C until crisp. This will probably take another 20 to 30min. With a halogen oven, you don't have to time things perfectly. Because they cook instantly, you can allow them to rest and then reheat to perfection at 250° C in under 10min before plating

4. When you're ready, transfer to a serving dish and take to table

the carrots and koukia (broad beans)

1. For this dish I prefer to use my old-fashioned stove-top stack steamer rather than my beloved microwave steamers. Bring a little salted water to the boil in the bottom pot of your stack steamer. Cut your peeled, washed carrots into the bottom steaming tray once the water is vigorously boiling and cover. It will take between 12 and 15min for them to reach optimum is the pieces are fairly large (as I prefer); properly cooked, but still al dente

2. Time it so that you add your broad means for optimum timing. They'll need about 3min if fresh, about 4 if frozen. Once cooked, removed from the heat, leaving in the the pot, which will stay warm for a while

3. Just prior to serving, reheat the broad beans in their serving dish in the microwave adding 1 tspn of water and heating for no more than 1min on full power. Dress with a little olive oil, stir in the finely chopped mint. Cover and take to table

4. Just prior to plating, heat a wok—or pan—adding a dash of sesame oil once the pan is hot. Add your steamed carrots and reheat, stirring almost constantly. Dress with sesame seeds. And, once it's all hot, transfer to a serving dish and take to table

Alternatives

This is one of those meals where I have to confess bottoming out on viable pescatarian, vegan or veggie options.

As with many British Sunday roast variations, it's an essentially meat-based dish. And, even though the best flavours in this dish come from the Greek influence, they too rely on the meat: its sauce is based on a reduction of the cooked lamb.

Sadly, the best I can offer with this one is that it's entirely possible to make it lactose-free simply by not adding the cream when making the sauce. Frankly, most often I don't because I think the intensity of its flavour.

Sorry, veggie and vegan kids, the best I can offer with this one is maybe some interesting ideas for great vegetable side dishes.

Pairings

We had it with an Aussie Cabernet Sauvignon Brian brought with him. I thought it worked really well; heavier than I would have intuited for this dish (I was thinking more Cape Pinotage or Californian Pinot Noir), but then again, the sauce really was intense, far more so than expected based on previous outings. So, it panned out as the best possible outcome.