Just Say Yes: Fearless Leg of Lamb

I was parallel parking my bashed-up, decade-old Volkswagen cabrio on the streets of Brooklyn when he pulled up next to me.

“Excuse me? Excuse me, Miss? You wanna fix that dent in your fenduh?” He was driving a black 15-year old Mercedes that wasn’t in great shape either.

Ah, the fender dent. It's a bit of a sore spot for me. You see, my parents were watching my car at their home in North Carolina last summer. At the end of their babysitting, my father brought my car to a guy who would wash it and spiff it up for $15 bucks or so. Not a business, just a guy. But my father isn’t above a shady business interaction, so that's how it goes sometimes.

At midnight, my parents got a phone call from the local cops. “Are you the owners of a Blue Volkwagon Cabriolet, license plate number…”

“Uh, yes.”

“Well Mr. Fishman, I regret to inform you that it appears a Mr. Johnny Holden has been driving drunk in your vehicle.”

“I see.”

Before getting pulled over for reckless driving, Mr. Holden was kind enough to back my car into who knows what, accruing many dollars worth of damage.

My parents didn’t mention this to me until I picked up the car and noticed a huge gash and growing rust spot in the back of it. “Uh, what happened here, mom?” I asked, opening the trunk to load groceries for her.

“Oh, your father and I forgot to tell you. It’s the funniest story…” And she proceeded to tell.

I couldn’t help but return to 1989, when I got into my first accident with the second-hand we-don’t-care-what-you-do-to-it car. It wasn’t my fault, and I was more than happy to crack open the bar mitzvah bank account to take care of it. I figured, they're my parents, this car is one step from the junkyard anyway, I was OK and the damage was only cosmetic.

Or so I thought. Let’s just say my parents didn’t laugh off my little car accident as easily as they laughed off this one.

I gave a "harrumph", and drove the car back to Brooklyn, wounds undressed.

So this guy next to me in the beat-up Mercedes had my attention. I got out of the car and asked for more information. “The name’s Nicky. I work down on 4th Avenue, at the body shop. You can take the car down there, and I'll do the same job for you, but the owner is going to have to take his cut, because that's how they do. Lemme give yous a quick estimate.”

Before I could say, “Nick the body man” He tallied up 10 rusting dings, nicks and other reasons for him to bang my body with a hammer for the low low price of: “Tree-fiddy.”

Now that was actually a deal. I added in a few spots he hadn't seen, got the number under $300, and we shook hands.

I called my parents, who agreed to pick up their portion, and Nick got to work on my body. I left Nick to his work and offered to pay upfront but he wouldn't hear of it, "I don't take any money from yous until yous is happy wid my work. Which you will be." We exchanged cell numbers and I went back to work for a few hours.

When a strange man comes up to you on the streets of Brooklyn with an offer that sounds too good to be true, hear him out. Then say yes. Although over-educated girls from the suburbs are taught to say no to men with propositions and thick Brooklyn Italian accents, the street smart city girl in me knew better.

Postscript: His work was excellent, my car is back to it’s old self, and I've redeem my father’s faith in shady businessmen. But even if the work was mediocre and the drama continued, it would have been worth it. For the story.


Fearless Leg of Lamb with Herbs & Garlic
by Allison Fishman
Serves 8

Don’t be afraid of a butterflied leg of lamb – it’s big and ungainly and, yes, lamb-y, but spring is here and the time is right for roasting these suckers. Sure, it’s scary: but take on the challenge: You’ll be handsomely repaid for your fearlessness.

2 tablespoons fresh rosemary leaves
2 cloves garlic
1/2 cup fresh mint, packed
1/2 cup fresh parsley, packed
Coarse kosher salt
1/4 cup olive oil
1 5 1/4-pound boneless leg of lamb, butterflied, trimmed of most fat and sinew
Freshly ground black pepper

Preheat oven to 450°F. To a mini food processor, add rosemary and garlic. Pulse until finely chopped, about 5 to 6 pulses. Add mint and parsley and pulse, scraping down the sides of the bowl until you’ve got a finely chopped herb mixture, about 8 pulses (don’t over process, you don’t want mush, just flakes).

Spoon the herb mixture into a small bowl; drizzle with oil and season with salt. Stir until you have a paste. Give a taste and adjust seasoning as needed; the flavor should be vivid.

Unfold the lamb, and season the inside well with salt. Rub the mixture all over the inside of the lamb. Roll up the lamb, jelly-roll style, and tie it with kitchen string to make a neat little package. Don’t sweat perfection on this one; if you’ve tied your shoes, you can tie this. Just improvise.

Sprinkle the outside of the lamb bundle generously with coarse salt and pepper, and place the lamb in roasting pan in the center of your oven. Roast until instant-read thermometer inserted into thickest part of meat registers 130°F for medium-rare, about 1 hour 15 minutes. Remove pan from oven; let lamb rest, covered with aluminum foil, for 15 to 30 minutes. Save any accumulated juices from the roasting pan.

Remove kitchen string from lamb. Cut lamb into 1/3-inch-thick slices; arrange on platter. Combine any juices that appeared after carving the lamb with the no more than 1/4 cup of the drippings from the roasting pan. Drizzle this over the lamb before serving.