Flirty Lamb Stew

When I first moved in to my room at the University of York, I was exhausted. I hadn't gotten any sleep for 42 hours, had to sit next to and talk to a guy who justified the actions of the Virginia Tech killer on the plane, and had to drag my two suitcases across town (a walk that took about 45 minutes).

So when I open the door, I was hoping for home sweet home. Or at least home sorta home. What greeted me was a tenement style house, with a kitchen where clean dishes were extinct and a window that was covered in greasy fat.
Welcome to England!

Of course, I soon learned that England is NOT all like this at all. Apparently, the guy who used to live in my room was teased so badly that he had to move out. The other kids in the house, in wild partying mood no doubt, threw food at his window. (Incidentally, I learned that this was not an anomaly in this house. Apparently the boys subscribed to a "If it sticks to the wall, it's done" rule for cooking. So there are noodles on the walls of the kitchen as well.)

Then one day, I walked in and found my chopping board out of its cupboard in the middle of the kitchen, with a knife through it. The handiwork of one Mike who carried around a huge beer mug bearing the image of Mr. Grumpy. Needless to say, I was freaked. I went straight to the college administrator and begged her to move me out. I went back to my room and triple locked my door.

So in this harrowing experience, as most harrowing experiences do, a romance began to blossom. Ok, so maybe not blossom. Maybe not even feebly poke its head out of the ground. But I like to pretend it did.

He was always smiling. When I walked in, he'd say "Hiya!" as if it were the first time I saw him. When I walked out, he'd say "See ya!" with a smile that would charm the paws off a cat.

One weekend, when everyone else had either gone home or were sleeping, he and I talked in the kitchen for a long time. He was from the Lake District, the beautiful English countryside famed for inspiring poets and writers. He had an older sister and he played the guitar. He loved slack-lining and rock climbing and had a boyish charm. And when I confided in him that I was going to move out because Mike was freaking me out, he shook his head and said "Do you want me to have a go at him?" That did it for me. I fell for him hard.

And when I bought some organic lamb to make some lamb stew and he happened to be hanging around the kitchen, I offered him some. He was properly amazed and grateful and said that it was the best meal he had eaten since he had arrived at college. Not surprising, given how full of frozen foods the refrigerator seemed to be.
Alas, I moved out of that room to a much bigger and safer one elsewhere in the college. Now I have my own bathroom and shower and don't have to deal with knife wielding Mr. Grumpies.

As for my fling? I like to think that the taste of my lamb stew still lingers upon his tongue and that on lonely weekends, he still thinks of me.

Flirty Lamb Stew Recipe
Ingredients
2 lb lamb chops
3-4 cups of water
1 onion, chopped
2 stalks of celery, chopped
1 carrot, chopped
1 vine ripe tomato
1 tablespoon of ginger, finely minced
1 spring onion, chopped
Salt
Pepper

To cook:
1. Bring water to bubble in a dutch oven and let lamb chops simmer for 2-3 minutes. Drain, and refill the pot with water, lamb chops, and ginger. Let stew for half an hour.
2. Add onions, celery, carrots, tomato, salt and pepper to taste. Let stew for another half an hour on low-medium heat.
3. Add spring onions and let it simmer for 10 minutes.
Serves 4

(Photos to come, as soon as I can find out how to upload photos on British computers!)