Recipe : Pesto smothered rack (of lamb)

Haha! Haha? Anyone? See what I did there? With the blog title? Up there? Anyone? Okay, I'm going to let it go now...

Anyways, I had previously promised to put up pictures certifying the union between my Costco lamb and my fresh homemade pesto - and here they are. I was too lazy last night after this monstrous feast to muster enough strength to upload pictures and blog about it, but do know that this happened yesterday. I promise you that my rack was smothered in fresh sauce (Alright, seriously, I'll stop now).

Not pictured: salt (Evelyn Salt. Alright, alright, I really am stopping now)

Ingredients:
• 1 rack of lamb (Ours was 8 ribs, which is the standard, but we cut it in half for tonight's purposes)
• Pesto
• Generous amount of salt
• Breadcrumbs (Optional. And we also didn't have any, but it gives the lamb a fantastic crust)

We bought our lamb already Frenched, which is the case with most lamb you can buy. If you need help Frenching a rack of lamb, here's a fantastic article from Simply Recipes on how to French a rack of lamb. I prefer an entire rack as opposed to pre-cut steaks because a.) you taste more of the original gamey sweetness of the lamb on the inside as opposed to drowning every side with whatever flavor you put on it, and b.) you get the perfect pink rareness and there's less of a chance of overcooking the lamb (WHICH IS A SIN) when it's baked in bulk like this.

Back in France, a few dear friends and I celebrated Easter with an entire leg of lamb smothered in pesto, and it was glorious, but it was slightly undercooked at the center, which is just as unpleasant in some sorts of ways. All the same, just saying that lamb coated with pesto and baked in bulk is great.

Tonight I was only cooking to feed my parents and myself, and since this was only to be used as a side dish I just directly cut through the package and divided this baby in half (That sounded a lot better in my head). I saran wrapped the other half - and yes, saran wrapped, for all you Brits out there, cling filmed does NOT WORK as a phrase - to save for later use.

Look at that beautiful piece of meat! The gorgeous marbling on the side with that amazing layer of fat blanketing the ribs like new snow. I hope you're done being hypnotized by this sight, because our work here is not yet done!

Take a sharp knife and score the membranes between each rib. In some cases, I would've even completely yanked the membrane off because it in cases the meat, and yes, while it does keep the juices in, it sometimes keeps the flavor out. There is membrane on the other side too, so you can either lightly score the surface with your knife, completely remove the clingy layer, or simply pierce the lamb all over with a small sharp knife. This last option will create a few divots for you to really push pesto into, allowing the marinade to truly permeate throughout.

If you so choose, as my diners did for me in this case, you can trim some of the fat off the lamb chop. It doesn't need to go to waste though. Whatever you trim you can keep, throw it in the pan with some salt while the oven is pre-heating, and you end up with a nice layer of grease to coat (a more delicious alternative to olive oil) along with an interesting rendition of lamb rinds. Oh, how I love unexpected little snacks just for the cook.

Now that you've finished prepping the lamb, lay on the salt (process not separately pictured) and the pesto! For those of you who are fussy about getting down and getting your hands dirty, (or if you need to photograph your food and don't want to get your camera messed up) you may choose to delicately spoon pesto over your lamb and prod at it with your awkward metal appendage until all sides are well-coated. But for those of you with stronger stomachs (or are done photographing and no longer a threat to your electronic photography apparel), just get in there with your fingers and really rub in the pesto and the salt.

Remember when you pierced this amazing meatiness all over with your small, sharp knife? Well, this is where it comes in handy. Each one of those crevices has the potential to become a tiny pocket of flavor, and only you have the power to help it realize its true potential. Won't you help it? Won't you help the small crevice reach its apex of usefulness? Won't you please? Won't you... okay, seriously, what is it with me today? You get the point. Use your fingers and just push some of the darned pesto into the crevice.

Now take a breath and recover from grabbing your mind just before it falls into the gutter and keep blogging.

So after you've thoroughly soaked your lamb, and your fingers and probably parts of your camera, with oily pesto-y goodness, you throw some saran wrap over the entire thing and set it aside to marinate. If you're planning on cooking the lamb the next day or in 6 hours, then throw the thing in the fridge but remember to take it out about an hour beforehand for it to return to room temperature.

So while this work of art is being chemically altered in the most delicious way, go and preheat the oven. Here we are, at this crucial step, and I have a confession: I do not have an oven. Technically, our kitchen does come with a very nice large oven underneath our gas stove, but my mother, not understanding the point of having anything larger than a toaster oven to bake with, has over the years accumulated quite a collection of boxes and bags that now takes up the cold and lonely racks. So I was forced to use our toaster oven.

I preheated it at full whack (250 celsius) with top and bottom heat going. I moved the wire rack to the bottom and removed the baking sheet to prep it for baking. Usually what happens is tin foil would line the tray up to its edges (don't want juices overflowing), and a light coat of olive oil would be drizzled.
However, if you sincerely read through this blog, you would notice that I mentioned keeping the trimmed lamb fat. This was not planned. I was just struck by a sudden inspiration which prompted me to dump the trimmings onto the tin foil-wrapped tray along with some salt, and shove the whole thing into the oven's middle rack.

This is what I ended up with after five minutes - a gorgeous sizzling coat of salty lamb grease and a few little pieces of oil well on their way to becoming crunchy little treats fit for a gas station on the side of the I-90. Here is where the fun begins.

Leave the oven running, remove the rack - very carefully, it is extremely hot - and place it on a heatproof surface. Then, you reach for this:

Greedily tear off the layer of saran wrap and lay the entire rack of ribs on the sheet, fatty side down. Since the baking sheet is well hot, you should hear a sizzle as the lamb hits the tin foil. Be very careful not to throw down the rack in your disgust for raw meat, as there is a layer of hot grease in the pan that will splash up and stain and burn the stars out of everything it reaches. Throw the lamb in the oven's middle rack and let the heat do its magic. How long you actually bake it at this stage purely depends on the size of your production. What I did was 15 minutes on one side at 250 degrees, then flipped the lamb over - so it's propped up by the ribs - moved the baking sheet to top rack, and continued to bake it another 15 minutes at 200 degrees.

Look at this tantalizingly sinful thing. It's almost as bad as a Ferrero Rocher chocolate, laying there teasing you, slightly unwrapped, and ever so delicate-looking.

Once 15-minutes hits, or the pesto starts to crust and brown on the top layer, remove the lamb from the oven (DON'T FORGET TO TURN OFF THE OVEN) and place on serving plate for your guests to cut on their own. You could transfer to a chopping board and serve it up all fancy of sorts, but remember to cut at an angle between the ribs, blade versus bone doesn't usually fare very well.

And there it is! Your pesto smothered rack. Of lamb. I would suggest a nice mesclun salad as a mix with a light lemon dressing, but my family had rice instead. Yes, once again, I am Asian. Get over it.

Bon app!