Lamb Roast IV: Beyond Jaded

And, oh yeah, after all the typical gluttony of Thanksgiving, we roasted a lamb. This was Sunday, which had allowed a couple of days for digestion, but I still was not all that hungry. Adding to the dilemma was the lavish spread of pot-luck goodies from all over, including some “Nigerian Magic” and some extremely tasty Turkish stuffed grape leaves (the lamb roast was for Peter’s foreign students).

And as I gripe over on Peter’s blog, the lamb didn’t really get seared on the outside, so even when it came off the spit, it wasn’t very appetizing (to me, anyway). I’m sure it was delicious. (Heresy! I don’t think I’ve eaten any of the lamb yet. Well, I ate some of the saffron-pomegranate-molasses-preserved-lemon-stewed shanks. That was wicked good.) But you can picture me, looking a little blase, yawning, in fact, as 50 pounds of lamb are toted into the kitchen on a spit, and Karvin’ Karl is sharpening his knives.

I did find it in my heart/gut to eat quite a lot of these “magic bars,” which didn’t have hash in them, but were filled with sugar, as well as coconut. (Tamara called them Congo bars, which when she says it, sounds very un-PC, somehow.)

But enough of my bad attitude: here are pictures from Peter, and from pumpkin-soup-making, camera-phone-having DJ Prince (who has also managed to capture some of Tamara’s most iconic decorating choices–good eye).

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