Cape Town - Rack of lamb is the spurned lover seeking revenge, which is not to say it is a dish best served cold. Neither should rack of lamb be served overly hot for that matter. Unlike revenge, it is a dish best served warm, just as its colour should be neither a virulent red nor a tired greyish-brown, but subtly pink and sensuously soft.
So we need no Lorena Bobbitt with a glinty eye on the knife rack, ready to slice through your best-laid dinner plans and turn the kitchen into a bloodbath, sooner than let you have the satisfaction of turning out the rack perfectly rare, just as it should be.
We need no Daisy de Melker, more interested in her pound (many ££££s in fact) of flesh than in you. She’ll poison your ambitions and ruin your life, rather than let you live to have another go at getting that rack of lamb just right.
Not to be confused, of course, with our own Daisy, who sometimes pops into this column, shakes her head, and disappears just as quickly. Our Daisy is a world removed from De Melker, who allegedly (it was never proved) poisoned two of her husbands for their insurance bequest, and also poisoned her son, which was proved, and for which this most infamous of South African killers got her comeuppance.
Daisy de Melker, nee Sproat, nee Cowle, who was hanged in December 1932, was born near Grahamstown and spent some time at boarding school at Good Hope Seminary in Gardens, Cape Town, but it was in the north of the country that both of her husbands died of strychnine poisoning, and where her son, Rhodes Cecil (really), died of what doctors first thought to be malaria but which turned out to be arsenic poisoning.
We also need no Marlene Lehnberg, the “scissors murderess” who in 1973, when she was just 19, hired a killer, Marthinus Choegoe, to stab her older lover’s wife to death with a pair of scissors.
Lehnberg was sentence to death but ended up in the tjoekie for 20 years, and one must presume that she’s out there somewhere living an anonymous life. Both were released in 1986.
While such implements as scissors and knives do have their place in the kitchen, one would not want to have a go at a rack of lamb with the former. This desirable piece of meat, no less alluring than the scent of filthy lucre or the lust for the blood of a madwoman’s enemies, needs such a tender hand in the kitchen that the best thing to do is to keep the Lorenas, Daisys (yes, you too, Daisy dear) and Marlenes well away.
Why is this rack such a Jezebel to the long-suffering cook? It is no less so than the crème brûlée which refuses to set, the poppyseed soufflé that collapses halfway between the oven and the dinner table, or the chocolate fondant that has no sensuous melted yumminess oozing out of it when you slice through it.
This Jezebel will encourage the worship of darker deities when you would rather seek the light, will have you try your damnedest, pronounced in the hardest BJ Vorster manner, and then confound you in the end with meat that is either so bloody that you needn’t have bothered to cook it at all, or so infuriatingly brown that it is an expensive piece of meat wasted and will elicit only polite approval in the dining room so as not to cause you offence.
There are chefs with Michelin stars behind their names who nevertheless fear the rack of lamb, because it can go wrong so easily. Just a degree or two in temperature one way or the other, just a minute or two too long or too little, and it is either too bloody or too brown.
But, oh, when it is right, it is just so right.
So start by soliciting your butcher’s help in at least getting them trimmed properly for you. If your butcher indeed is expert at this.
As your butcher to French-trim the racks, a method that involves trimming the bones for a clean finish and partially slicing the racks to make it easier to cut through them once cooked.
Parsley-crusted rack of lamb
1 x 4-bone rack per portion
Butter
Dijon mustard
Generous handful Italian parsley, stems removed
4 heaped Tbs breadcrumbs
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
Salt and pepper to taste
Olive oil
Pan-fry the racks in hot melted butter until well browned on all sides, a couple of minutes per side. Transfer to an oven dish, fatty side up, season with salt and pepper and smear Dijon mustard generously to completely cover the fat.
Rinse the parsley and pat dry. Chop it finely and mix in a small bowl with the breadcrumbs, garlic, salt and pepper and olive oil (2 or 3 Tbs should suffice, Daisy).
Pack this generously on top of the rack or racks (the quantity of which, Daisy, will depend on how many people you’re feeding – so, yes, you may need to increase the quantities of the crust ingredients).
Roast in a 220°C oven for 15 minutes, cover with foil and cook for 5 or 10 minutes more. Leave to rest, warm but out of the oven, for 10 minutes before serving.
Err on the side of less, rather than more, as the cooking process, though stunted, will continue while it is resting.
Even well-seasoned chefs will say things like “Place in a ripping hot oven and basically hope for the best. So good luck.”
So, ja, good luck.
PS: You may be wondering: just how did they turn out? This time, I got lucky.
But I never take a rack of lamb for granted, any more than any sane man would trust a Daisy de Melker or a Lorena Bobbitt.
Weekend Argus