not 'too German'

Goodness gracious.

How comes that, when you plan on taking a few days off, all sort of s**t hits the fan? The last weeks went by in a flurry, and looking back now, I can hardly remember what all the fuss was about.

That is to say: I am on holiday now for a few days, and I am absolutely thrilled by the fact. We're not planning on going anywhere, we're just going to stay at home, work in the garden and at the house, cook, eat, write and generally plan on having a wonderful time.

Which actually is coming along quite perfectly, for just in time with my days off, spring has taken a solid hold in my corner of the world.



We have tadpoles in the pond, flowers everywhere, and the birds are singing their little hearts out. And spring wouldn't be spring without new potatoes, asparagus and, of course, lamb.

We had a wonderful lambshank for easter sunday, a riff on my lemon chicken, actually. And as lovely as the lamb was on the first day (see recipe below) the real stunner was what we did with the leftovers the next day.

I was baking ciabattini anyway, so I turned a few of them into two large, airy flatbreads. I cut the remaining lamb as fine as I could and fried it with a generous dose of oregano. Some green salad, a few onions, some yoghurt with mint (yes, the very same stuff you use for tea, mixed into rich yoghurt) and assembled all of this at the table - voila, the poshest döner pide ever.

Unfortunately, I have no pictures of this, but it was just as delicious as it was messy and a real feast. And damn, was it messy. There's still some yoghurt on the paving outside underneath the table...

But, back to the original lamb. My wife wanted lamb, but it shouldn't taste 'too German', whatever that is supposed to mean exactly.

So I took the lemon chicken recipe and added more cinnamon, something I learned from the Lady my mother worked for as an au-pair who originally came from Greece. Lamb and cinnamon may sound unusual companions, but they go along perfectly well. Together with a lot of lemon and olive oil, they make a wonderfully fragrant, light and summery dish that is both exotic and familar.

And defintely not 'too German'.





lemon lamb with cinnamon
(generously serves four)


for the lamb
1 lamb shank, deboned
1 large lemon
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 tablespoon dried thyme
1 teaspoon rosemary, dried and ground
1 teaspoon paprika
1 teaspoon honey
1/2 teaspoon cumin, ground
1 tablespoon sea salt
some olive oil
a pinch of chilli

for the potaoes
1,5 kg of potatoes
1 large lemon
200 ml olive oil
1 heaped tablespoon thyme (or more, if you like. I do.)
1 teaspoon of rosemary, dried and ground
1 tablespoon honey
1 tablespoon sea salt
chili to taste


If necessary, clean the meat, cut off all sinews and skin.
When using a deboned shank, I prefer to cut the meat in a way that it comes to lay like a flat rectangle, instead of bundling it up again into its original shape. This way, I feel, I get more surface, meaning more crust, more taste, and a better distribuion of the spices. And of course, it's done much faster.

Cut the zest off the lemon, chop it very finely. Juice the remaining lemon and keep the juice for the potatoes.
Only use the yellow peel of the lemon, with none of the white stuff as it gets bitter. I think it is easiest to get off the lemon with a really sharp potato-peeler.

Mix the spices and the lemon zest with salt and honey; add some olive oil so the rub will be moist but not too runny.
If you have a mortar and pestle, this is the moment to use it, especially to get the fragrant lemon oils out of the zest. Probably a food processor will do just as well.

Rub the meat all around with the spice mix, using all of it.
Use the entire rub, if some falls off, it’ll just spice the potatoes.

Leave the meat to rest.
Half an hour is fine, two hours or three is better.

Meanwhile, clean the potatoes if necessary, and cut (unpeeled) into wedges.
Try to keep the smallest diameter of the wedges approximately the same, so they will all be done at the same time. I usually quarter them along their longest side.

Mix the lemon juice of both lemons, the olive oil, spices, honey and salt.
Spice with a little chilli if you like, but normally the lemon alone will have enough zing to keep things interesting.
I usually add the second lemon’s zest to the rub, but you can also add the lemon peel to the potatoes for added scent. Just warn your guests that it is decoration and not very tasty…

Put the potatoes in a big bowl and toss with the dressing until they are evenly coated.

Pour the potaoes onto a high-rimmed baking tray (or into a large oven dish), the lamb on a gridiron above them and put into the oven at about 180°C. Bake for 40 to 60 minutes (depending on the weight of the meat), and turn the potatoes once or twice so they have a chance to brown evenly on all sides.
There should be hardly any liquid left among the potatoes, and they should be crisp outside and soft inside. Both the tray and the potatoes should be smudged with a fine, brow layer of caramelized, partially burned lemon juice. Actually, you might want to line the tray or the dish with non-stick paper, as the lovely, tasty stuff is close to impossible to get off again.

Take out of the oven and leave to cool for a moment, then serve.
This is mostly to allow the juices recover a bit and resolve some of the caramelized lemon juice. And of course, the wedges are fragging hot inside, and we have had more than one unhappy accident with overeager eaters…

As a side, you can serve any green salad, and my mother-in-law and me especially like to have heavy, Greek-style yoghurt to go with it as a dip.

Leftovers make a perfect döner pide the next day, as mentioned.