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Lamb neck and onions layered beneath a lid of sliced potatoes, baked low and slow until the kitchen smells like the kind of evening you want to stay in for. A proper Northern supper.
January. The kind of evening where the light goes at four and the kitchen is the only warm room in the house. This is when a hotpot makes sense. Not because you planned it, but because you looked at what was there: lamb from the butcher, potatoes, onions, the last of the thyme from the garden. Those things wanted to become this.
Lancashire hotpot is not a recipe that tries to impress. It's lamb and onions, layered in a deep dish, topped with sliced potatoes, and left in a low oven until the lid turns golden and the juices soak upward through the layers. The kitchen fills with a smell that belongs to no other dish: rendered lamb fat, sweet onions, something savoury and deep that makes you check the oven every twenty minutes even though you know nothing needs doing. I wrote it down in the notebook years ago: "Hotpot. Tuesday. Rain. Enough." I still think that covers it.
The potatoes are the thing. Sliced thinly, overlapping like roof tiles, brushed with butter so they crisp and catch in the heat while the lamb beneath gives itself up to the stock. You need patience for this. A couple of hours, at least. But the real work is all at the beginning: the slicing, the layering, the quiet assembly of something that will look after itself. Once it's in the oven, you're free. Read something. Pour a glass of something. Trust your nose. It knows before you do.
Quantity
8 (about 1kg)
Quantity
3 medium
sliced into rings
Quantity
750g
peeled and sliced 3mm thick
Quantity
500ml
warm
Quantity
30g
melted
Quantity
a few sprigs
Quantity
2
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
to taste
Quantity
2
halved and cored
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| lamb neck chops | 8 (about 1kg) |
| onionssliced into rings | 3 medium |
| potatoes (Maris Piper or King Edward)peeled and sliced 3mm thick | 750g |
| lamb or chicken stockwarm | 500ml |
| unsalted buttermelted | 30g |
| fresh thyme | a few sprigs |
| bay leaves | 2 |
| fine sea salt | to taste |
| black pepper | to taste |
| lamb kidneys (optional)halved and cored | 2 |
Season the neck chops generously with salt and pepper on both sides. If you have the time and the inclination, brown them in a hot pan with a little oil until they take on some colour. This isn't essential, but it adds a deeper, more savoury note to the stock as it cooks. If you're using kidneys, tuck them among the chops. Set everything aside while you prepare the rest.
Set the oven to 160C/140C fan. In a deep, oven-proof dish or casserole, lay half the sliced onions across the bottom. Tuck the thyme sprigs and bay leaves in among them. Arrange the lamb chops (and kidneys, if using) in a single layer on top, then cover with the remaining onions. Pour in the warm stock. It should come about two-thirds of the way up the meat, not cover it completely.
Layer the potato slices over the top, overlapping them like roof tiles in neat, concentric circles. Start from the outside and work inward. The slices should cover the surface completely with no gaps. Brush generously with the melted butter and season with a pinch of salt. This is the lid. It will protect the lamb while it braises and reward you with something golden and crisp when it's done.
Cover the dish tightly with a lid or a double layer of foil and put it in the oven for two hours. Don't open it. Don't check. The lamb needs this time to soften and surrender its flavour to the onions and the stock, and the potatoes need the trapped steam to cook through. After two hours, the kitchen will smell like something worth coming home to: rendered lamb fat, sweet onions, thyme, and something savoury and deep that belongs to no other dish.
Remove the lid and turn the oven up to 200C/180C fan. Brush the potatoes with a little more butter if they look dry. Bake uncovered for another twenty to thirty minutes, until the potato lid has gone properly golden and crisp at the edges, with patches of deeper colour where they've caught the heat. The stock will have reduced and thickened beneath into something glossy and rich. Bring it to the table in the dish it was cooked in. A big spoon. Warm plates. There are few better feelings than putting this down in front of someone on a cold evening.
1 serving (about 500g)
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