Help I’m obsessed with lamb necks now

An unexpected lamb dish, for Easter or your next dinner party

Last spring I spent a few weeks in New Orleans, housesitting for a friend and eating a lot and trying but mostly failing to work on my book. It was the season for crawfish, perhaps one of the most delicious food seasons that exists¹, and I tried to eat them roughly once a week. The best meal I had there was a bag of crawfish boil and a turkey neck, eaten with Caro and Jackson looking out over the Bayou with a bottle of wine. I’d never eaten a neck before—turkey or otherwise—and it shocked me, so much softer and richer and more savory than anything I’ve ever eaten at Thanksgiving. The meat slouched off the bone, slinking eagerly from fingers to mouth. I love it when food proves me wrong.

That sweet memory jumped back at me when I fist flipped through the Turkey and the Wolf Cookbook—also a product of New Orleans—and caught sight of a recipe for braised lamb necks, served over roti paratha. (I’ve written a bit about why I love that cookbook here, if you’re interested.) I filed these necks away in my head for a future dinner party, and they kept popping up as I got familiar with lamb this winter. This is how desire accumulates: a memory, a suggestion, a bit of experience, all of this leading, if you’re lucky, to fulfillment. We cash in our hopes for pleasure.

lamb necks post-braise, pre-shred

I finally got to make the necks last Friday, thanks to a dinner party that Kate and Jackson (different Jackson) hosted. Everything came from the Turkey and the Wolf book—the menu was:

LAMB NECKS
[Pork], peas, mint, and cereal salad²
White bean hummus with chile-crunch peas
”Okranomiyaki” [SOOOOO good]
Wedge salad with ranch instead of blue cheese
Ice cream with magic shell

Jackson (boyfriend) and I made the necks, and Kate and Jackson made everything else in such a casual, how-easy-is-that fashion, they even have room for a table that seats eight. The okra in particular was insane. Lindsey brought mezcal and oranges and worm salt! And the necks were everything I hoped they would be and more.

It’s a simple braise, really, with the added option of making your own chile paste (smoky, fruity, delicious, thick, I highly recommend). It doesn’t even call for stock, just water, although I must admit I had lamb stock in the freezer, and I used that to great success. I learned that lamb necks—what you might call an “off cut” or a butcher’s cut, the sort of thing not priced at a premium—are waaaaay cheaper than a shoulder or leg. I assume this is, in part, because they’re as much bone as they are meat. For 6.7 pounds I somehow paid $40³, and I now have three neck bones in my freezer that I will be making into stock as soon as my schedule allows it. The bones are super cartilaginous, which means that even the braising liquid gets pudding-thick when chilled in the fridge. Plus it was fun to periodically text “neck neck neck” to the group chat while we prepped.

leftover necks, carnitas-style

I am sending you this recipe because I love it and I want you to have access to it, and also because I think it would be a really cute Easter recipe if you’re looking for something more exciting or more economical than the traditional roast. You’ll likely have plenty of leftovers, which I’ve spent the last three days turning into quesadillas, grilled sandwiches with cheese and braised greens, and more meat-topped roti, only I’ve been crisping up the leftover meat in the rendered fat that the recipe gifted us. The result is basically lamb carnitas, a perfect food.

Yours in necks,
mb

Braised Lamb Necks on Roti