Category: Main Dish

The Lamb Chop That Converted a Lamb Hater

I have never been a lamb person, and if you’ve been here for a bit, you probably know that. The two single foods I have an aversion to? Lamb and goat cheese, and for similar reason – they taste like barn. Yup. BARN. Like one of my followers said: it tastes like licking a barn wall.

I get it. I really REALLY do.

Then, last week at my Busy at the Belvedere pop-up, something happened. One might call it a nightmare. My boss delivered a box of lamb chops to the restaurant, and said, “I want you to use this for your appetizer of the week next week.” I had already decided to make cherries the star ingredient of the week’s menu, and it made for a natural pairing. But how could I cook something I would never actually eat?

So I decided to get out of my comfort zone and cook a lamb dish that I WOULD WANT TO EAT. And that meant figuring out exactly what I didn’t like about lamb and finding a way to change it.

The answer, at least for me, was in the marinade.

I seasoned the lamb with garlic, lemon zest, cumin, celery seed, olive oil, salt and pepper and let it marinate for several hours. The lemon and garlic brighten the meat, the cumin adds warmth, and the celery seed brings in a subtle, savory herbal note.

And the celery seed wasn’t there by accident. I wanted the lamb to have a flavor connection to the celery root purée and the fresh celery salad on the plate. Celery seed is incredibly concentrated compared to fresh celery. It has a deeper, earthier, slightly grassy flavor with a faint anise-like quality. Used sparingly, it gives the lamb a subtle celery backbone without making it taste like you dumped celery salt all over it. It also happens to be a great spice for rich meats. Its herbal, slightly bitter character helps balance the richness of lamb and gives the marinade another layer of savory depth.

And no, celery seed doesn’t magically remove the gaminess from lamb or tenderize it. The marinade isn’t performing some kind of culinary exorcism. The salt, aromatics, lemon and spices, combined with proper cooking, are what helped create a more balanced flavor.

Most importantly, it worked. I liked the lamb. Actually, I really REALLY liked the lamb.

The chops were juicy and deeply flavorful without having that aggressive gaminess I had always associated with lamb. The cherries brought sweetness and acidity, the celery root purée was silky and earthy, the fresh celery kept everything bright, and the pistachios added crunch.

I had managed to make a lamb dish that I would actually want to eat. And that got me thinking about food aversions in general.

I recently heard that when babies are introduced to a new food, it can take as many as 18 exposures before they decide whether they like it. Eighteen! We expect a baby to taste broccoli once, spit it out, and somehow make a lifelong determination about broccoli. Yet as adults, we do exactly that.

We try something once. Maybe we have a bad experience. Maybe it was poorly prepared. Maybe we tasted it at the wrong age or simply weren’t ready for it. And then we declare: “I don’t like that.” We write foods off all the time.

Now, I’m not suggesting you force yourself to eat something you genuinely hate 18 times. Life is too short for that. But I do think there’s something to be said for being willing to try again. Because sometimes you don’t hate the ingredient. You hate the way it was prepared. Sometimes you haven’t found the right combination. And sometimes, apparently, you just need to cook the lamb yourself.

This dish was my experiment in doing exactly that. I took an ingredient I had avoided for years and built a plate around flavors I already knew I loved: cherries, celery, pistachios, lemon and herbs. And somewhere between the first bite and the last, I realized I had officially converted myself.

Maybe I’m not a lamb hater after all. Maybe I just needed the right lamb chop.

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Coffee Rub Pargiot

You guyyyyzzzz, this chickennnnn – it’s our newest obsession and we CAN’T GET ENOUGH!! Seriously so easy, and so. so. good. Of course there is a catch – you’ll need to get your hands on Trader Joes viral bbq coffee rub, but if you can’t you know I got you!! I’m putting my homemade blend below!

YOU’RE WELCOME!!

 

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Tangy London Broil with Sumac Herb Salad

Lets talk London Broil. Did you know that it’s not an actual cut of meat, but rather, a cooking method? That’s why you see many different cuts at the butcher all labeled “London Broil”. Some are butcher’s cut, shoulder London Broil etc. What it actually means is that it’s a cut of meat that is meant to be marinated and grilled – which means it’s not a braising roast (you don’t cook it low and slow in the oven), but rather, you grill or broil it over high heat.

London Broil is somewhat budget friendly (at least it used to be!), easy to cook and so delicious! It’s great served cold or room temperature, and it’s delicious on a charcuterie board, or in a sandwich.

 

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Easy London Broil
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Double Coffee Roast with Chestnuts & Shallots

I’ve always loved coffee—not just as a drink, but as an ingredient in cooking. Its natural acidity and deep, roasted flavors make it a surprisingly perfect way to braise meat. It tenderizes while adding rich, layered notes that bring out the best in beef without being sharp or overpowering. For Passover, when flavors need to feel both comforting and elevated, coffee quietly becomes the hero of the dish, so I used it TWICE – both in the rub, and in the braising liquid.

Chestnuts are the perfect partner. Their soft, slightly sweet, creamy texture absorbs the coffee and maple syrup beautifully, adding depth and subtle sweetness without overwhelming the meat. Together, coffee, chestnuts, and a touch of maple create a braise that is richly savory, balanced, and full of flavor – perfect for a holiday meal.

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Stuffed Eggplant Parcels

There is something deeply Purim about an eggplant parcel. On the outside, it’s simple — silky roasted eggplant folded neatly around a filling you cannot see. But cut into it and there’s a reveal. Something rich and layered was hidden inside all along. That is the essence of Purim. In the Megillah, Hashem’s name never appears. There are no seas splitting, no open miracles — only politics, power shifts, sleepless nights, and a queen hiding her identity. Everything looks ordinary until you step back and realize it was anything but. The miracle was wrapped inside history itself.

The story of Purim took place in ancient Persia — modern-day Iran. The same soil. The same region. And this year, as events unfold in that part of the world, it feels impossible to ignore the echoes. In the Megillah, a decree against the Jewish people felt final, terrifying, irreversible — and yet it turned. “V’nahafoch hu.” What seemed sealed was reversed. What looked like the end became salvation. Purim reminds us that the deepest miracles are often concealed within what appears to be natural events.

Chazal teach that Haman was a descendant of Amalek, the embodiment of those who seek to erase us. On Shabbos Parshas Zachor, when we read the commandment to remember and eradicate Amalek, the modern Iranian leader Ayatollah Khomeini — whose regime has long openly called for the destruction of Israel and the Jewish people — was killed. On the very day we publicly reaffirm our eternal survival against Amalek, a modern voice of that ideology was silenced. Purim trains us to notice those moments — not as loud supernatural spectacles, but as quiet reminders that history is not random.

We do not always see the full picture. We see headlines, fear, uncertainty. But Purim teaches us that even when G-d feels hidden, He is present. Even when events look purely political, they may be purposeful. Like this eggplant parcel, what appears simple on the outside can hold something powerful within. The miracle may not be visible yet — but it may already be unfolding. And just as in the days of Esther, we hold onto the hope that what feels heavy can still turn, that what feels threatening can still be reversed, and that hidden miracles are already in motion.

Chag Purim Sameach.

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