Easter is next weekend, and I’m in Virginia.
Memories of my mother are front and center. She loved being outside, and I wish she’d lived to see another spring.
With spring come religious holidays: Passover, Easter, Ramadan. My mother considered herself a Christian, although she didn’t go to church and almost never prayed. She told me once,
“My prayers are my actions.”
If only we had a Church of Bettie.
But one day, I asked a question which stumped me. I asked her if she really believed the Easter story; specifically, the resurrection.
“Well,” she said, “I suppose it’s an allegory for what they experienced at the time.”
She always outsmarted me.
The longer I live, the more willing I am to accept paradox as an intrinsic part of life. Two opposing things can exist at once, and more often than not, they do.
For instance: I am not religious. It would be fair to call me religion averse.
I’m horrified at how human beings treat each other because they think their God is Top God, and how willing they are to torture others into believing in their brand of God.
I’m also not a fan of self-serving spirituality: you know, lots of yoga, sage, and gratitude while thinking nothing of the plight of others. In short, “my life is great so there is a God” doesn’t work for me either.
Furthermore, (oh, here I go, a diatribe is coming on) I’m against suffering. In any form. I said this to a friend recently, and she replied,
“How very Pagan of you.”
It’s a funny quip, but she’s not far off. Religious men love to tell us our suffering on earth has a point, and don’t worry, follow Top God and we’ll be rewarded after we die.
This is…problematic for me. But, before I drag you into my religion rabbit hole, allow me to contradict myself. I have promised paradox on the menu.
I love Easter.
First of all: hats. What could be better than a day when people dress to the nines and wear fabulous hats? (Halloween. But Easter is warmer.)
And I have the happiest memories of Easter as a child. We’d dye Easter eggs, and my mother had as much fun as we did. She ooohed and ahhhed over our exquisite color choices, making me feel like a mini-Chagall.
The night before Easter, we put our beautiful eggs into baskets and left them out for the Easter Bunny. In the morning, we’d have a solid chocolate bunny and plenty of other candy in their place. Then we’d empty out the candy, go outside with our Easter baskets, and search for the eggs the bunny hid. Chocolate bunny ears were our breakfast.
It was spring, it was beautiful, there was candy and a treasure hunt. What more could a kid ask?
To my delight, my stepsons visited Virginia at Easter and carried on with our tradition. They had fun and genuinely cared about my mother.
My mother was great at art, love, and magic. I miss her.
I also miss her pronouncements. In her later years, I had to search hard for her Easter present: the solid chocolate bunny. Most of the ones on store shelves now are hollow.
She loathed a hollow bunny, declaring them “cheap.” When she bit its ears off, she wanted more than a chocolate crust.
My mother was fond of delight. Isn’t delight better than suffering?
So, in her honor, I am having Easter dinner down here this year. It’s a small affair, but Tammy and her family and maybe a cousin or two will join us. I will be making one of her specialty dishes, leg of lamb.
I wouldn’t call my mother a cook, exactly, but she had several dishes she made well. She was a superb creator of sandwiches and salads and had a repertoire of supper dishes.
I loved her leg of lamb. She and I both were vegetarian for a decade of our lives, and we both loved lamb. How’s that for paradox?
She’d prepare it by making little slits in the leg and pressing cloves of garlic in. This technique can’t be beat, although I once had to make it when one of my guests was garlic averse. I left a couple of inches on one end without it. I can’t imagine being against garlic, but I’m sure there are plenty of religious people who can’t imagine life without God.
Anyway.
I’ve found a recipe for leg of lamb like hers prepared in a slow cooker instead of an oven. I’m going to try it, although it won’t be as good as hers, because she’s not here.
I won’t bore you with the long story about my kitchen situation right now, but it would make for an excellent episode of #GoodFoodInCrapKitchen, if I’d the time to make a video. I do not. As I say to everyone who wants to visit me in Virginia, you’re welcome to come. It’s like camping with less convenience.
My mother’s method to cook the lamb was simple: have butcher trim most fat, make slits all over, then press in garlic. Salt, pepper, and roast. Because I’m using a slow cooker, I will brown the lamb first in a large skillet first, do garlic process, then throw it in slow cooker. Browning is important for flavor.
I’m going to give you some guidelines in the form of internet links, rather than one single recipe. Everyone has preferences on degrees of doneness, and that can affect cooking times and technique. I have to say, for all its perils, the internet is an absolute gem of recipe sources.
If you want your lamb pink inside, you’ll have to use an oven, not a slow cooker. I do not like rare lamb, or medium-rare, or any pink at all. There’s nothing wrong with liking certain cuts of meat well done.
There. I said it. So sue me.
And in the slow cooker, it should reach that pot-roasty, melt-in-your-mouth degree of tenderness.
What I will include is her recipe for roasted tomatoes, which she always served with lamb, accompanied by white rice. The tomatoes are divine, melting into the rice when you cut them.
But I’m also thinking about Greek roasted lemon potatoes. Bettie didn’t approve of two starches in one meal, but two of my guests are vegan and I have to feed them something.
The lemon of the potatoes will be a good contrast with the richness of the lamb. It’s Samin Nosrat at work: salt, fat, acid, heat.
Happy Paradox.
Lamb techniques:
For rare and medium rare roast leg of lamb. You don’t have to use this recipe. Important bit is internal temperature should be 130°
For braised or in in a slow cooker.
Bettie’s Roasted Tomatoes
I found a recipe which has a good cooking method for roast tomatoes, so you can use this as a resource. I needed to find what temperature and how long to cook: 450° for 30 minutes.
However, Bettie’s have halves of garlic cloves inside the tomatoes. If you imbed the garlic so it’s covered, fine. But there is nothing worse than burnt garlic. Check after twenty minutes to make sure you don’t have any dark brown garlic ends.
Count on at least one tomato per person, which you’ll serve as two halves. They’re so good people will want more.
Halve the tomatoes and place in a lightly greased pan. Slice whole garlic cloves in half and stick a half clove into each tomato quadrant. Drizzle liberally with good olive oil, salt, pepper, and oregano.
Cook the tomatoes for about 30 minutes in an oven set to 450°. I’d check at about 20 or 25 minutes to see how they’re doing. They’ll shrink but will be very juicy.
They’re wonderful with white rice, but equally delicious if sopped up with good bread. I like semolina bread.
My mother used to make Easter magical too. She would have loved this tomato recipe. BTW do you serve mint jelly with your lamb?
Lamb+roasted tomatoes+lemon potatoes...my mouth is watering! 🤤 Glad to know your Easter will be spent with memories of your mother while surrounded by family and friends! ❤️