Most people don’t think of eating lamb raw. So when I was looking for another variation, a new perspective on the genre of tartare, it was natural to go to the lamb. I was simply exploring the frontiers of tartare and trying to be a little different.
In lamb tartare, we use the less expensive shoulder cut, as opposed to leg, rack, loin, and so on. Shoulder has more fat, like 80/20 ground beef, which is what you need here. As usual, I prefer domestic lamb, as it has great flavor without being too gamy. You can grind the shoulder yourself, if you have a hand grinder or a grinder attachment for your stand mixer, or you can ask your butcher to grind it for you. Ask for it to be ground twice, using the coarse blade.
This recipe starts similarly to the beef tartare but takes its own turn with a somewhat Greek accent thanks to the addition of feta cheese (instead of Parmesan in the beef), jalapeños, and fresh mint. The addition of scrambled egg makes this dish brunch-worthy, but I love it any time of day.
If you have any left over, the jalapeño/mint oil will keep, covered, in the refrigerator for 2–3 days. Drizzle it over tacos or grilled fish.
SERVES: 4
2 jalapeño peppers, cored and seeded
½ cup packed mint leaves, plus torn leaves for garnish
½ cup 75/25 canola/olive oil blend (see here)
1 pound lamb shoulder, double ground using the coarse plate
1 teaspoon kosher salt, plus additional to taste
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus additional to taste
3 tablespoons thinly sliced scallion, white and light green parts
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons plus 4 teaspoons shredded or finely crumbled Greek feta cheese
2 tablespoons butter
4 eggs
2 teaspoons chopped chives, plus more for garnish
1 teaspoon finely shredded mint
Place the jalapeños, mint leaves, and oil in a blender. Starting on low and increasing the speed to high, blend for 30 seconds. Set aside.
Place the lamb in a stainless steel bowl. Nest the bowl in a larger bowl filled with ice. Add the salt, pepper, scallion, mustard, and 2 tablespoons of the feta. Add ⅓ cup of the jalapeño/mint oil and mix well with a metal spoon until everything is completely combined. If there are any chunks of feta, break them up with the mixing spoon and continue mixing until you have a homogeneous mixture. Taste and add more salt and pepper if necessary.
In a nonstick skillet over medium-high heat, melt the butter. Break the eggs into a small bowl and whip them with a fork. Pour the eggs into the pan and stir. Add the chives and shredded mint. Cook until the eggs are softly scrambled. (That’s my preference; if you like them firmer, that’s okay too.)
One portion is a quarter of the meat mixture. You can use an ice cream scoop or spoon to mound the tartare on individual plates, or use a ring mold to create a uniform shape. Surround each portion with an equal portion of the scrambled eggs; you want each person to get a bit of the egg and lamb in every bite.
Sprinkle 1 teaspoon of feta over each plate. Drizzle some of the jalapeño/mint oil over the tartare. Scatter some torn mint leaves over the plate; sprinkle with some chopped chives.
My first trip to France did not begin auspiciously. On day one, I was laid up in our hotel near the Jardin du Luxembourg with the flu, and culinary school was beginning only two days later. I was freaking out. I was just starting to recover when I had to drag myself out of bed and to the school for the audition, during which I cut my finger pretty badly. Things were not going my way, not to mention the challenges I was experiencing as a first-time American in Paris who didn’t speak a lick of French.
And then things turned around. I recovered from the flu. I was admitted to the school’s highest level. And then I was at a newsstand buying an English-language paper to look through apartment classifieds when the woman next to me started up a conversation. She was American and inquired about my situation. I told her I was going to La Varenne and was desperate to find an apartment. “What a coincidence,” she said. She had a little artist’s loft above her own place, perfect for a young couple. We got lucky: The top-floor garret was beautiful, an amazing place to live in Paris. The second stroke of luck was that on the ground floor of the building was a charcuterie shop, the first I’d ever seen. It was filled with all sorts of incredible items—salami, pâtés, rillettes, terrines. Over time, I got to know the gentleman who ran it. He showed me everything: how he added bread to meat to make pâté, how he ground the meat and fitted it into casings. I fell in love with his craft.
A lot of charcuterie—salami and long-cured ham, for instance—is hard to master and takes time, space, and climate control. However, there are a few things easy enough for even the dabbler to perfect. Making them gives loads of satisfaction. You should learn how to make a mousse or a terrine or rillettes. It just requires a little time and attention. Here are a couple of delicious and ridiculously easy charcuterie staples to make at home—and one terrine recipe, the headcheese, which is more difficult to render, but a stunner when you pull it off.*