Unfortunately it’s not easy these days to get your hands on mutton, which seems odd, as not long ago a mutton chop was fundamental in the British diet; almost no formal meal went by without its appearing somewhere.  However, persistence and a good butcher should suffice.

I just finished reading Fuchsia Dunlop’s Shark’s Fin and Sichuan Pepper: A Sweet-sour Memoir of Eating in China.  Reader Ken Gallaher suggested I give it a shot back in August.  I really wish I had started reading it sooner, and if you haven’t picked it up yet, consider giving yourself a holiday present.  Not only is it incredibly well written, but it’s fundamentally changed the way I look at food.  There is a reason that Anthony Bourdain claims, “In the heart of any good cook is a Chinese guy.”

So if mutton is tough to find over in Great Britain, imagine how hard it is to find here in the States.  Fortunately for me, my source for lamb offal, Zituna World Food Market also carries mutton.  When I was there last time, I picked up a whole leg of mutton…

…which is much, much larger than this image can really portray.  I ended up having to cut into two pieces just to barely get it into my biggest pan.  Even then, it was really a tight fit.

The night before, I had set a full pound of borlotti beans to soak overnight.  In America, borlotti beans are called cranberry beans.  Apparently, a large percentage of the dried borlotti sold in Italy are really cranberry beans imported from the United States.

I seasoned the leg of mutton, and browned it on all sides.  The larger piece required two people to flip it without any major drama.

When I had archived a nice golden brown on the leg of mutton, it was moved–again with the help of two people–to a large roasting pan. I then added over two pounds of bacon to the frying pan to brown.

As some of the fat rendered off the bacon (You really should be able to buy that fragrance as an air freshener.  Oh, wait, you can.) I began peeling and chopping the carrots, onions, and leeks.  The garlic was shelled, but left whole.  At this point, the bacon was nice and crispy, so it was removed to the same roasting pan as the mutton. The veggies were sweated in the bacon fat until they were soft.  They too were placed in the roasting pan along with the borlotti beans, some stock and wine.

I covered the whole pan with aluminum foil, and placed it in a medium hot oven for just under four hours.  When I pulled the pan out, the meat was nice and tender, just barely hanging onto the bone.

And here’s the final dish.  Beans, vegetables, bacon, cooking broth and mutton all together.  I served this dish to my wife, father-in-law, and his girlfriend.  I’ve fed my father-in-law a few dishes from the St. John cookbook–nothing too exotic, mind you–and he claimed that I had outdone myself with this one.  The meat was surprisingly subtle, which surprised me.  Mutton is famous for its strong flavor, so I was expecting something more robust.  Perhaps the long, slow cooking time had something to do with it being less pronounced. The borlotti beans were very nice as well, with a slightly nutty flavor.

While mutton sure is tough to find, as far as I’m concerned it’s well worth the effort when it comes to making this recipe.

One down, ninety one to go.