I’ve eaten good lamb before. But I’ve never eaten it while feeling guilty and happy at the same time. Okay, to be honest, it was more like a tinge of remorse followed by a rush of ecstasy, and the remorse is only before the first bite.
If you’ve already read the post on my trip to Madrid, you might know what I’m talking about.
What you see in the picture above is the baby lamb (and pig) being cooked to perfection in the oven of Asador de Aranda. Oh, just the thought of it makes my mouth water.
I’ve heard my father talk about this baby for years. He would tease me by describing the delicate meat and the luscious flavours, and just when I started looking like a drooling idiot, he’d say, “But it’s so sad to kill a baby lamb.”
Way to kill an appetite, dad.
Not that I don’t agree with my dad. But it’s hard to feel compassion when the meat is so soft, it falls off the bone at the slightest touch and the crispy golden skin oozes juices with every bite. It’s hard to believe that such levels of deliciousness are achieved from cooking the meat in nothing but olive oil, water and salt. This is the kind of magic I like to believe in.
So when my father made plans for us to meet an old friend from work during our trip to Spain, I was glad – I love meeting people when I travel. But imagine my joy when I learnt that the old friend and his wife were taking us to dinner, to the restaurant with the famous baby lamb. What a perfect end to my stay in Madrid.