It’s not just me, right? I mean, I can’t be the only one who would decide to do something relatively simple for the big dinner, and have it cascade from there?
I just wanted some goat. Or lamb, but ideally goat.
I am planning to make gulyas for dinner. I’ve got beef, since Alma Boykin pointed out that the word refers to the gray cattle of Hungary. But I really wanted that flavor of the goat or lamb (very different, but not beef!) as well. I headed to the carniceria today, as I’d run out of time yesterday, and walked into the busy store with smiles and nods to the cashiers, who undoubtedly recognize me. There can’t be that many short redheads who show up there on a regular basis. I waited in line for the meat counter, having looked up the word for lamb in case I needed it – cabrito I knew, but cordero wasn’t one Duolingo had prepared me for – and was pleased to be greeted in English. While I’d enjoy practicing my very rough Spanish to polish it up a bit, it was busy enough I hated to take their time.
“Do you have lamb or goat?”
“Only goat, sorry.”
“May I have three pounds?”
“It’s 7.99 a pound?”
He disappeared into the back, and came out a moment or two later with a box, frost glistening on it’s sides. He put that down, then pulled a plastic bag out of that and set it on the saw. Big bandsaw, all gleaming chrome.
“How do you want it cut?” He brandished it at me. “Goat leg!”
“I’ll take the whole thing.” I got a surprised look from him. “Thank you!”
He set it on the scale, and looked at me with a quizzical expression as it was over four pounds.
“That’s great, thank you!”
One frozen goat’s leg in hand, I headed for home, gaming out in my head how on earth I was going to take a solid goatsicle to being stew in time for dinner.
Currently, the whole thing is in the oven to roast at 400F for no less than an hour, along with some onions. At that point, I’ll be able to break it down, and the bones will have some caramelization on them where they’re exposed, to add lovely flavor as well. Then, the thing will go into the InstantPot, along with the spices and vegetables and broth I made overnight. Fast stew? We shall see! If it fails, I’ll have roast goat tomorrow!
In the meantime, I’ve got a little time to kill so I thought I’d journal the story here. I can’t put the pie, cake, and bread (in that order) in the oven until the roast is out. I can’t peel and cut the apples as they will oxidize. The potatoes are cooking for the bread, when they finish I’ll get that started. Prepping a big meal is all about the timing, just like so much else in life.