Week 29: Lamb, Olive and Caramelised Onion Tagine

The book: Nigella Express 

The recipe: p114, "Lamb, Olive and Caramelised Onion Tagine"

On a freelance translation job on the outskirts of Frankfurt several years ago, I worked with an American fella called Bruce. One lunchtime, Bruce offered to make us all quesadillas. "Well," he immediately added, "they're not authentic as such - I don't have any cheese or beans so I'm just using fried vegetables. Oh yeah, and I couldn't find tortillas so I've got pitta bread instead."

My reaction then is remarkably similar to how I feel on reading this week's Random Kitchen recipe, because Nigella, too, is full of provisos from the get-go. First and foremost, this tagine isn't actually a tagine. "In Morocco, most tagines are made in pressure cookers," she says by way of explanation - then promptly tells us she prefers not to use a pressure cooker either, recommending a standard casserole dish instead. Meanwhile, the one relatively out-there ingredient (caramelised onions from a jar) is immediately compromised by Nigella's concession that home-made ones are better if you can be bothered to make them.

All very promising, I'm sure. Still, one of the guiding principles of Nigella Express is to minimise effort even at the expense of authenticity. It's our third time dipping into the book and the great lady has been reasonably kind to us so far, so let's see if she can hit the nail smack on the head this time.

The prep: Not content with making me spend more on food than I usually do (though I'm never sad to shell out for good lamb), the Random Kitchen project is seriously upping my spend on kitchenware. To my shame, I don't possess a good, heavy lidded casserole dish, and frankly it's about time that changed, so I allow myself the low-level indulgence of a solid-looking thing from the Sainsbury's Collection. Should last a good few years, anyway.

Most of the ingredients need buying, actually, from the titular olives to the onion that I'm going to caramelise (because caramelised onions - not chutney - in a jar are the kind of thing that only exist at Waitrose, on the delicatessen shelves and in Nigella's happiest dreams). I find the remains of a jar of ground ginger at the back of the cupboard with a best before date of December 2009, so probably best to buy some more of that, and the one bottle of red wine we've got in the house is far too good to waste on cooking.

Basically it's a massively expensive trip to the supermarket all round, but the end result ought to be pretty decent, since the recipe basically involves lumping together a bunch of nice ingredients in a pot for two hours.

The making: Oops, I just gave away the method, didn't I? And indeed, once the onions are caramelised, they're put in the casserole along with the diced lamb, a drained jar of black olives, a drained jar of capers, a bulb's-worth of garlic cloves (left whole), and some ground cumin and ginger. Then the stock is added... wait, there is no stock. Instead, a whole bottle of red wine is added, and that's all the liquid we're using. Nigella, indulgent? Never!

The mixture is brought to the boil on the hob, the lid goes onto the dish, the dish goes into the oven for two hours or "until the lamb is tender", and that's it. I mean, honestly, the recipe's available online but there seems little point in sharing it here considering how straightforward it is. Still, by all means Google away if you want.

On inspection near the end of the cooking time, it becomes clear that the casserole's contents are still suspiciously on the liquid-y side, but it'd probably take another two hours in the oven for that issue to resolve itself (and the photo in the book does suggest that the lamb may be practising for its 50m swimming certificate). Instead, I prepare Nigella's proposed accompaniment - "a bowl of couscous studded with a can or two of chickpeas" - and the not-actually-a-tagine (can we call it a "fauxgine"?) is ready to serve.

Mmm, fat globules

The eating: The thing about cooking meat in wine and very little else is that it tends to leave the meat susceptible to, well, discolouration. Now, I've had some unusual experiences with eating lamb in my time...

Malmö, don't ever change

...but even I've yet to encounter a recipe seemingly designed to turn the meat the purply-pink colour of liver. That's what happens here, and it isn't a great start.

Once that aesthetic hurdle is overcome, however, the lamb itself is perfectly cooked and falls apart at the merest touch of the fork. Top marks on the tenderness front. Elsewhere, the olives and capers add an unusual tang to the dish that sets this aside from your average Sunday stew, although I'm not convinced that they and the uncrushed garlic really blend together or infuse the liquid with much of their flavour in the process - this is less a cohesive dish, more a collection of nice things floating in a vat of wine.

The excess liquid that I was concerned about is soaked up by the couscous...

(well, mostly)

...but there's no denying that the red wine is the dominant flavour here, and that's a bit of a problem. Maybe it's because I'm a non-drinker these days - Sam has far fewer objections on this front - but it's all a little overpowering. It almost reminds me of red wine fondue in that respect, where you cook chunks of meat in a mini-saucepan of wine-heavy broth right there on the table in front of you - although the key word there is broth, i.e. not just wine.

My conclusion is that Nigella should have followed the lead of Monty Python's viking-plagued café owner and called this "Wine, Wine, Wine, Wine, Lamb and Wine Tagine" for greater accuracy.

Still, don't get me wrong: this is a pretty enjoyable eat that absolutely can't be faulted for its simplicity, and I'm very fond of lots of the things involved. In fact, I'd gladly make it again, going 50-50 on wine and lamb stock this time (and slightly cutting down the volume of liquid overall), and see how that turns out. Seems like a good excuse to get some more use out of that new dish, if nothing else...

One-word verdict: Hic!