Sandwich Wednesday – Lamb Sandwich – Learning to Curse in British

With the goal of quieting my mind, years ago I tried meditation at a center in Chelsea. You sit on foldout chairs, and, when the gong goes off, close your eyes for fifteen minutes and try to think of nothing, which, as you might imagine, isn’t so easy. It was an evening class, and most often I spent the time mulling over what I’d eat for dinner.

We all have times when we’re alone with our thoughts. Or, rather, when circumstances force us to be so, as when listening to a gong in a room in Chelsea. Or on a long plane ride, which essentially is limbo in a tube (see Up in the Air). After you’ve read your book and the in-flight magazine, there’s not much to do but stare out the window and think. Insomnia is another classic: it’s like being in an airplane minus the view and the peanuts.

I’ve taken to lying in bed, headphones in, clutching my iphone and watching the UK version of Kitchen Nightmares, which beats its American cousin because there’s a lot of cursing. Also, I learn cool British putdowns like plonker and donkey and wombat, all of which seem to stand for something between asshole and moron.

The other night I watched a BBC series on Marco Pierre-White, the original kitchen nazi. The premise is that he cooks a fancy meal for another big deal chef. The food is rich, technically perfect, and slightly old-fashioned: perigord sauce, spun sugar domes, truffle this and that.

Pitch black, save for the glow of my iphone, I was transfixed by this wild-haired prodigy, his effortless fingers slicing, saucing, searing, twirling. He spoke of his signature dish, and how proud he was to do it at 24 rather than 34 or 44, the implication being, of course, that it can take decades for a chef to build a completely unique dish. (The KFC fried chicken sandwich bomb doesn’t count.)

His creation? A light-sounding pasta: tagliatelle with oysters, cream, and caviar. As I recall, he swirls a forkful of fresh pasta into a hollow oyster shell, spoons over the cream, tops it with an oyster and a pile of caviar. Five per person, on a bed of rock salt and seaweed. Oysters, cream, and caviar-tried and true, but made his own by the addition of fresh pasta.

I shut down the phone. If I wasn’t going to sleep, at least now I had something to ponder. I’ve been mildly obsessed with sandwiches, a difficult medium to personalize. Staring into the dark, I spun a mental roulette wheel of flavors, hoping to land on uncommon, untested, and delicious combinations. Grape jelly and duck? Cream cheese and tofu? Cumin spiced flatbread and sprouts? Beans and butter? It was like counting sheep, and soon I nodded off.

It took a few days for Marco Pierre-White’s late night lesson to hit home. New doesn’t have to mean reshuffling the entire culinary deck. You can only hope for a successful tweak of the familiar. Or stay true to the familiar: who needs to change PB&J?

We’ve been eating a lot of Indian, so I began to consider those classic flavors and how to pull them into a slightly creative sandwich. Someone else has probably made this, but if it works, all the better.

I’ll take sleep over insomnia anytime, but if I’m up, I guess there are worse things to think about than oysters, cream, caviar…and sandwiches.

Lamb Sandwich
Makes 4-6 sandwiches

1 ½ pounds lamb (see note)
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons fennel seeds
2 teaspoons mustard seeds
2 teaspoons cumin seeds
2 teaspoons coriander seeds
4 cloves garlic, unpeeled, smashed
2 cups plain yogurt, preferably strained
1 seedless cucumber, peeled
2 teaspoons ground cumin
½ recipe green chile pickle
Naan bread (a few baguettes would work as well)
salt and pepper

1. In a small sauté pan over low heat, add the spices until fragrant, being careful not to burn: 2 or 3 minutes. Grind to a powder in a spice grinder.
2. Coat the lamb generously with the spice mix as well as salt and pepper. Refrigerate with the garlic and cover for a few hours.
3. Meanwhile, make the yogurt. Halve the cucumber widthwise and grate both halves into a bowl. Squeeze out as much water as possible and reserve.
4. Whisk the yogurt in a bowl with the ground cumin and season well with salt and pepper. Fold in the cucumber. Set aside.
5. Preheat the oven to 350.
6. Remove the lamb and let come to room temperature. Reserve the garlic cloves. Heat the oil in a medium pan over medium high heat and add the lamb. Sear on both sides, getting a nice golden color, add the garlic cloves and roast to medium rare. Remove to a plate and let rest for 15 minutes.
7. If using naan, warm in the oven. Slice the lamb thinly. Pour any accumulated juices into the yogurt.
8. To assemble: spread the naan with yogurt, top with lamb and dot carefully with the green chile pickle (it’s hot, so do to your taste). Serve. The sandwich is excellent cold. Chill the lamb and yogurt and assemble.

(Note: a lamb loin roast would be extremely tender and delicious. However, it’s really expensive and you’re making a sandwich, not Christmas dinner, hence a block of meat from the leg of the lamb will do just fine. Lamb shoulder’s too tough, so avoid.)

Green Chile Pickle (from Suvir Saran’s Indian Home Cooking-we halved it)
Makes 1 pint

1 ½ tablespoons black mustard seeds
½ teaspoon asafetida
½ teaspoon fenugreek seeds
½ pound Serrano chiles, washed, dried, stemmed, very thinly sliced
1 teaspoon turmeric
1/8 cup salt
½ cup light (not toasted) sesame oil
juice 3-4 lemons

1. Combine seeds in a small pan and toast until fragrant, about 3 minutes. Grind to a powder in a spice grinder.
2. Toss the chilies in a nonaluminum bowl with the spice powder, turmeric and salt. Spoon into a sterilized jar, cap, set aside overnight at room temperature.
3. The next day, heat the oil to smoking in a small pan. Pour over chilies (careful, the sizzle). Cap and set on windowsill for a day.
4. The next day, add enough lemon juice to cover the chilies, cap again and set in sun for 3 or 4 more days. Refrigerate and eat within 2 to 3 weeks.