I bought a rather larger than usual leg of lamb for Sunday's kleftiko, on the off-chance that The Muckart of Glenglass, who had joined us for dinner the night before, might stay on for a late lunch. As it was he rumbled off to his hermitage well before the threatened five hours' cooking time began, so we had copious leftovers on Monday.
We can rarely be bothered with proper cooking at the start of the working week, and often end up buying ready meals from the supermarket, usually delicious but also rather pricey. My Ukrainian conscience baulks at this unnecessary expense, so I suggested the compromise of a warm sandwich and a bowl of soup - precious little cooking and pretty cheap.
Lamb is, inexplicably, not one of the choices presented in even the better supermarket sandwich displays, let alone in the self-styled delis hereabouts (which are usually no more than cafés with delusions of grandeur). Why, I can't imagine, because it makes a fantastic sandwich.
I took a small red onion and sliced it thinly. Half went into a frying pan with a scattering of cumin seeds and a good glug of olive oil, followed a bit later by seasoned chunks of lamb. Some thinly-sliced sourdough - three slices each for double-deckers - got itself toasted on one side and laid white-side-up on a board. Base slice gets a healthy covering of garlic mayonnaise and some crisp lettuce; middle slice, a spicy Moroccan chutney; top slice, butter. Now to assemble it. Base, then lamb, then raw red onion; now middle slice, lamb, more raw onion, and finally the top slice.
If ever I needed an excuse to roast a leg of lamb on a Sunday, this Monday supper is it.
We can rarely be bothered with proper cooking at the start of the working week, and often end up buying ready meals from the supermarket, usually delicious but also rather pricey. My Ukrainian conscience baulks at this unnecessary expense, so I suggested the compromise of a warm sandwich and a bowl of soup - precious little cooking and pretty cheap.
Lamb is, inexplicably, not one of the choices presented in even the better supermarket sandwich displays, let alone in the self-styled delis hereabouts (which are usually no more than cafés with delusions of grandeur). Why, I can't imagine, because it makes a fantastic sandwich.
I took a small red onion and sliced it thinly. Half went into a frying pan with a scattering of cumin seeds and a good glug of olive oil, followed a bit later by seasoned chunks of lamb. Some thinly-sliced sourdough - three slices each for double-deckers - got itself toasted on one side and laid white-side-up on a board. Base slice gets a healthy covering of garlic mayonnaise and some crisp lettuce; middle slice, a spicy Moroccan chutney; top slice, butter. Now to assemble it. Base, then lamb, then raw red onion; now middle slice, lamb, more raw onion, and finally the top slice.
If ever I needed an excuse to roast a leg of lamb on a Sunday, this Monday supper is it.
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