slow-braised lamb ragù with cavatelli
There’s a restaurant I love called All Time, which I can only describe as a place that captures the feeling of eating a cozy dinner at a friend’s home, assuming their home is located a semi-busy street in Los Angeles across from a liquor store. I’ve celebrated birthdays there, milestones or not; taken out of town visitors there to show them what our food scene is about, grabbed my friends’ hands during an earthquake there and then went on to eat the world’s best focaccia like nothing ever happened. It’s just one of Those Places. You know them when you find them.
This is vaguely inspired by their signature lamb ragù, one of the only dishes that’s always on the menu even as everything else inevitably changes with the seasons. In their rendition, the lamb itself has been braised forever, probably longer than I’ve ever braised anything, and the cavatelli are lightly fried first to get crispy edges before being sauced. I have seen several celebrities eating it while they try to blend in on the front porch of the restaurant, pretending to be a normal person. There is a reason I order it as an entree even though it’s meant to be a shared plate. Those Places tend to have That Dish. This is one of them.
While this ragù is not that That (Exact) Dish, it’s also not trying that hard to be, because that one already exists, and nobody needs to compete with it. Instead, this is sort of my own “house style” on a lamb ragù, cooked for as many hours as you’ve got, softened with a big pat of butter before cooking and cut with a little bit of cream at the end (which may or may not be what’s done there too, although I’ve never asked), served over extra-long cavatelli from the specialty pasta store (for which rigatoni is a completely appropriate substitute), piled high with freshly grated parm and drizzled with olive oil meant just for guests.
This particular ragù, being low-maintenance for how impressive it is, perfectly encapsulates my desired cooking aesthetic: a cozy night spent on your tasteful friend’s back patio, eating simple food made with love, surrounded by dramatic shadows illuminated by candlelight, connected to your people by invisible threads, at peace with the feeling that if an earthquake hit right now you might be okay spending the end of the world as you know it right here with a glass of chilled red wine in your hand. If that’s the vibe you’re going for, too, then this one is made for you. I’ll be over at 7.
RECIPE
Inspired by the lamb ragù at Los Feliz restaurant All Time, this is a long-braised lamb shoulder ragù with minimal up-front prep and maximum reward. Serve with friends, wine, and lots of parm.
Effortful time: 45 minutes-1 hour
Total time: 5 hours, almost entirely hands-off
Makes enough for 2 lbs. of pasta
you need
2 1/2-3 lbs lamb shoulder, cut into 2” cubes, excess fat trimmed
2 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
1 small carrot
1/2 a baseball-sized onion
1 rib of celery
6 cloves of garlic, minced
2 tbsp. tomato paste
1 cup dry white wine
28 oz can of crushed tomatoes, San Marzano if you can
8 sprigs of fresh thyme, tied with twine, or 1 tsp dried thyme
Salt and pepper, to taste—I started with 1 tsp. of salt and adjusted from there
2 tbsp. butter + 1 additional tbsp. for the end
2 tbsp. heavy cream
1/2 cup grated parm
Pasta—I like cavatelli, but rigatoni would also work
Fresh grated parm and the best olive oil you’ve got, for serving
make it
Do some prep. If your lamb isn’t already cubed in 2” pieces, do that now; pat it dry with paper towels, and salt and pepper it well. Process your carrots, onions, and celery: you can do a fine dice with a knife, or you can rough-chop them and throw them in the food processor. Alternately, I sometimes find and buy pre-prepared mirepoix, which is perfect for this recipe—just toss it right into the food processor and pulse it a couple of times and you’re done. You want tiny, distinct pieces. Mince your garlic, and get the rest of your ingredients ready.
Brown the lamb. In a medium Dutch oven or braising pan (cast iron preferred), heat 2 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil over medium-high heat and turn on your vent hood. Use tongs to carefully put the lamb into the oil. Brown the lamb on all sides until it’s got deep color; this took me 4-5 minutes per side but your mileage may vary. Do this in batches so the lamb doesn’t touch, or else it will steam. Remove the browned lamb to a plate while you finish the rest. Pro tip: if you don’t want to make a nasty mess of your stove, cover your burners and backsplash with aluminum foil—an ancient family secret! Let all the browned lamb chill out on a plate while you do the next few steps.
Sauté the aromatics. Lower the heat to medium-low. Add the carrot-onion-celery mixture and sauté, stirring often until soft and picking up a little color from the pan (about 3-4 minutes). Add the minced garlic and cook 30 seconds more, until fragrant. Now put in 2 tbsp. of tomato paste and break it up with your tongs, mushing it into the olive oil.
Deglaze the pot with 1 cup dry white wine. Let this burn off for a minute.
Build the sauce. Nestle the lamb pieces back into the pot, along with the sprigs of thyme (or dried if using) and butter. Pour in a 28 oz. can of crushed tomatoes. Add a pinch of salt. Bring this to a very low simmer, partially covered.
Simmer forever. For close to four hours. Minimum. That is why this recipe says it takes six hours. he longer you go, the better this bad boy is. If you want to eat at 7, you should start at 1pm—it takes about 45 minutes for me to get everything onto the stove and I work fairly quickly. If you want to start even earlier, and cook it for 8 hours, great! You can and should do that once in your life. Check periodically for a few things: that it’s not too hot (you don’t want to see scorched tomato marks), that it’s not too dry (if it has a crusty surface, add more water), and that it’s not boiling too hard (this will lead to tough meat). Gentle bubbles, nice fluid sauce. Adjust accordingly.
Finish the sauce. Once the lamb is simmered to death, use tongs to shred it right there in the pot—after this long on the stove, it should fall apart just by looking at it. Stir in the 2 tbsp. heavy cream and 1/4 cup of parm. Do any final adjustments for dryness and seasoning. Let this hang out on the lowest heat while you do the next step.
Boil water and cook your pasta, 2 minutes under al dente, the lowest number on the package. You can start boiling the water before you shred your lamb. Drain and save 1 cup of pasta water.
Assemble the pasta. Heat a skillet over medium heat. Add the last 1 tbsp. of butter and melt. Throw in your pasta and stir to coat in the melted butter. Add scoopfuls of the ragu and a generous splash of pasta water, and simmer for 2 minutes longer until all the water is absorbed, the pasta is cooked through, and everything is nice and clingy. Serve with more freshly grated cheese at the table and a drizzle of olive oil if you’re feeling extra fancy.