The $8,000 leg of lamb

I fixed a leg of lamb tonight for neighbors Jay and Susan, former neighbor Sue, and good friends Elizabeth and Weldon. I told Jay weeks ago if he found a home for that sweet stray lab, I'd fix him a leg of lamb. He said tongiht, "I saved you from a broken hip," and I told him maybe that's worth $8,000. It's called the $8,000 leg of lamb because I once served it to company and a guest called me the next day and offered $8,000 for the recipe. At the cost of lamb today, that's not too far off. Basically, you make a gratin of sliced potatoes, onions, and tomatoes, interspersed with salt and pepper, chopped garlic and crushed thyme. Then you put a cake rack on top of the 9x13 pan with the gratin and top that with the bone-in leg of lamb, seasoned only with salt and pepper. The idea is to turn the leg every fifteen minutes--I don't remember that from before, and I have to say it was a Herculean task. But what I forgot is that you should pour white wine and olive oil over the veggies before adding the lamb. No wonder there wasn't much juice for basting. But still the veggies cooked in the lamb drippings and were delicious. Jay helped me with timing--I was afraid it wasn't cooking at all, but he finally decided that neither my oven nor my meat thermometer were accurate and pulled it at just the right time. Interior was quite pink, exterior medium rare for those who like their meat brown. It was really really good. I want to do it again, the right way, but with the cost of lamb, I won't be doing it soon. It was the perfect meal for Elizabeth and Weldon on their gluten-free dairy-free diet. We six ate almost all of the veggies but I have quite a bit of lamb left. To me, one of life's delights is a cold lamb sandwich with lettuce and mayo. It will be a good week.
Sue brought her new dog, Jack, a lab mix maybe a year old or a little more. We thought he would play with Scooby in the backyard but Scooby soon tired of nip and tuck--he's an old man without Jack's energy and he told Jack to back off. So Jack promptly jumped the fence and had to come in the house where he was much calmer than Scoob would have been with all that meat and all those people. (Ok, we put the leftover roast in the microwave just to hide it from him.) Jack and the cat encountered each other a couple of times, which didn't faze Jack but angered Wywy. We worked it out, and mostly while we sat and visited, Jack lay at our feet. Sue's got herself a really good dog.
This morning Jacob and I went to church. I think I got more out of it than he did. I went with a heavy heart about the earthquake/tsunami/nuclear meltdown and about the problems of a family member, and I talked to the Lord about these things, enjoying the solitude and peace of the music and atmosphere of the sanctuary. Houston's sermon, as always, was right on, and I was comforted when he said he, too, just can't wrap his mind around the devastation in Japan. Jacob on the other hand came out of Sunday school--well, maybe it's just day care--electrically alive and ecstatically talking about a little boy who pooped in his pants. All I could hope was that the other children didn't tease the child unmercifully and embarrass him, but Jacob's behavior gave me little hope. When and how do you teach chldren about compassion? We drove to and from church with the top down on the car, which Jacob loves-it's so much easier to strap him in with the top down. I may end up doing that in the dead of winter.

The Music of Easter

One early Easter morning,
I wakened with the birds.
And all around lay silence,
too deep for earthly words.

When I was in children's choir, a century or more ago, we used to sing that on Easter morning. Those first lines are all I can remember. I can hear the melody in my head, but awful singer that I am, it didn't come out that way when, in the privacy of my car this morning on the way home from church, I tried to sing it. I really can't carry a tune in a bushel, I breathe at the wrong time in a line, and my voice quavers. My friend Betty, organist at my church forty-plus years, says I'm the only person she knows who reads music while singing a hymn (unless it's one I know well).
But I've never been able to find the complete anthem. Betty has never heard of it, and I even googled it--only to find the first two lines, which I already knew. If someone knows anything about it, I'd be grateful to hear it.
I haven't been to church in, probably, two years--no one factor and maybe a combination of several. When I was having a bad time with anxiety, that was one thing I didn't want to do--though it's the logical place to go for solace. But I never ever liked going to church alone, and it's way too easy to get out of the habit, especially since I can get the 11:00 o'clock service on the radio. But this morning I got myself together and went to church alone. Somehow I didn't want to miss the joy of Easter--and I didn't want to miss the music.
Don't get me wrong--I have a deep faith in the message of Easter. The minister this morning said that the quesiton so many ask is, "Is the resurrectoin real?" It's the worng question; the question really is, "Where is the resurrection?" and each of us must work that out ourselves. He said he never berates an Easter congregation but he does ask, "Are you here as a tourist or a pilgrim?" and I truly am there as a pilgrim, finding my way on the journey.
But University Christian Church is particularly known for its spectacular music program, and this morning it was glorious. We sang "Jesus Christ the Lord is Risen, Allelluia!" and "Crown him with many crowns"--I can sing most of both from memory going back to my childhood. Sometimes I have been known to sneak out of church during the last hymn so I can "beat the crowd"--don't ask why I'm in a hurry, because I don't know. But today the choral benediction was the "Hallelujah Chorus" and I stayed for every last magnificent minute. I may be literary not musical but I enjoy strong vibrant church music. I am really glad I went to church this morning.
Lovely Easter dinner this evening, though I sort of got the dregs of the Burton family. Jacob had played hard all day at his grandparents house (I'm not a grandparent--I'm Juju),  fell asleep when they were almost at my house, slept for a long time in the car while we had happy hour on the porch with Jean Walbridge and Jim Clark. And, of course, when he woke up, Jacob was cross, grumpy, whiny, awful. Christian kept saying, "He's really charming at his best." We ate without him--if I do say so, the butterflied leg of lamb was delicious--I made slits in it and inserted a mixture of fresh rosemary (I have huge bushes in my yard), chopped garlic, olive oil, and anchovies--then let it sit in the fridge. I seared it in the oven, then runed it down but somehow I took the meat out, I turned off the oven when I meant to turn it up and put the tiny new potatoes and onions back, so the potatoes were a bit crunchy though the boiler red onions were really good. Jordan's salad was delicious, and I sinned and had a small chocolate cupcake for dessert. I lied and told WeightWatchers it was low calorie--figure that made up for the size.
Jacob suddenly became charming as we were finishing dinner, ate his supper, chatted gaily and told Jim he'd like to come to his house some day to see his workshop. No telling with three year olds, but the rest of us had a really pleasant evening.