Slow-Braised Lamb Shoulder: A Four-Hour Labour of Love
There is a quiet dignity to a lamb shoulder braised low and slow, the kind of dish that fills the house with an aroma so deeply comforting it could be prescribed on the NHS. The technique is disarmingly simple: season generously, sear until bronzed, then surrender to the oven's gentle heat for four unhurried hours. What emerges is meat so tender it barely holds its shape, falling away from the bone in rich, unctuous shreds. Serve it with creamy mash and a glass of something robust — a Barossa Shiraz, perhaps — and you have the kind of meal that makes everything else feel manageable. This is cooking as therapy, as ritual, as an act of defiant optimism against the relentless pace of modern life.