BRAISED LAMB, WHITE BEANS, SUMMER TOMATOES & SALSA VERDE

As you know, I’ve have commissioned some of my favourite food writers and chefs to make sure your plates are full while I am away on maternity leave, and I am thrilled to introduce the second guest writer to you this week, my soul sister, Stacey O'Gorman.

Stacey is a huge part of my life, we met over ten years ago when she gave me my first job in the food industry, she was the lead food stylist on my cookbook In for Dinner, is an integral part of our supper club kitchen team and has been an incredibly dear friend to me since the moment I met her. We do most of life together; family holidays, Christmases, New Year, Easter, PR trips to Italian olive oil farms, you name it, we’ve done it together.

I’ll let Stacey tell you more of the juicy details, but for now, I just have to say I am SO excited for you to be getting her Slow Braised Lamb recipe in time for long summer lunches, it is one of the most delicious things I have ever eaten and I am honoured to be hosting it here on The Late Plate. Over to you Stacey…

Some people arrive in your life quietly and then, before you know it, become part of the architecture of it. Rosie Kellett is one of those people for me. Somehow, over the course of a decade, a bakery job turned into a friendship that now feels more like family.

Rosie and I first met over ten years ago when I co-owned Meringue Girls, a sweet little bakery tucked away in a mews just off Broadway Market. Rosie came to work with us as a baker while balancing dreams of acting and writing and, even back then, it was obvious she had that thing… the magic combination of creativity, drive, wit, warmth and effortless charisma that makes people want to gather around her table.

We travelled together for work, cooked endless chaotic staff lunches, danced through many an unhinged night out and somehow became deeply woven into each other’s lives. These days, Rosie is essentially my sister. We spend Christmases and Easters together, I’m guide-momma to her baby, and we work together as much as humanly possible. Before baby daddy entered the scene (THC, we love you deeply, but you absolutely stole my position as Rosie’s permanent plus one), you genuinely may have mistaken us for a couple.

When I moved back to New Zealand after leaving Meringue Girls, Rosie and I stayed close, even though we were extremely far apart. I watched from the other side of the world as her career exploded in the most beautiful and deserved way. Gorgeous supper clubs, bestselling Substack, cookbook deals, the whole shebang. Then one day she called and asked if I’d come food style her debut cookbook, In For Dinner. It was a no-brainer. Between that call, my British passport, my sister living in London, a deep craving for change and the knowing I could continue my styling and somatic coaching work from anywhere, I suddenly found myself boarding a plane back to the UK.

And honestly, Rosie has been such a pillar in my return to London over the past couple of years. She folded me straight back into the city… introducing me to her gorgeous circle of friends who’ve become like family, reintroducing me to all my favourite food spots and connecting me with so many brilliant people I now get to create with regularly. She’s one of the most generous, kind and loudly supportive people I know, and I love her dearly.

As for me… I’m a London-based culinary artist, somatic coach and writer whose work spans food and prop styling, cheffing, space holding and storytelling… each project rooted in beauty, pleasure and connection. Over the past 15 years, I’ve had the joy of collaborating with incredible brands, creatives and communities, and through it all I’ve noticed the thread that quietly weaves everything together: creating experiences that invite people into a deeper relationship with themselves, their senses and each other.

My career has taken a few beautiful pivots over the years, but food has always remained at the centre of my life. Whether I’m styling a table for a launch party, travelling to cook for gorgeous humans, holding space for inspiring women online or writing about my silly little life on Substack, I’m always interested in intimacy, connection and the rituals of gathering.

You can find me over on Instagram at @stacey.o.gorman, on Substack at Finger Food, or via my website www.staceyog.com if you’d like to follow along for recipes, stories, nervous system musings and the occasional overshare about modern dating.

Anyway, enough from me. I’m so happy to be here in Rosie’s little corner of the internet. It really does feel like home.

Lately, I’ve found myself completely and utterly exhausted… right down to the cellular level. After months of nonstop cooking for events and shoots, moving house more times than feels psychologically acceptable, travelling and being swept up in the particular chaos that is London in summer, I realised I hadn’t experienced a real moment of stillness or solitude in quite some time. As a deeply sensitive introverted extrovert, I need silence the way other people need sunlight. Without it, I slowly start to disappear from myself.

So this week, I cancelled my plans (difficult, but deeply correct) and, right on cue, my period arrived. I spent the day moving slowly around the kitchen, cooking this for myself and writing to you in between long pauses on the couch.

When the red river flows, I crave a very specific holy trinity: red meat, carbohydrates and something brothy, warming and green. Food that replenishes rather than impresses. Food that asks nothing of you except to sit down and receive it.

I hope this dish meets you exactly where you are. And I hope it feels grounding, nourishing and deeply restorative… just as it did for me.

Serves: 4–6

For the Lamb:

1 bone-in lamb shoulder

Olive oil

3 shallots, finely chopped

1 large carrot, finely chopped

2 celery stalks, finely chopped

4 garlic cloves, sliced

½ bottle white wine

1 cup chicken stock

1 punnet cherry tomatoes - blanched, refreshed and peeled (if you can be effed)

1–2 sprigs rosemary

2 bay leaves

Salt & cracked black pepper

2 cups cooked white beans

For the Salsa Verde:

A handful of each: parsley, chives, dill, mint (or whatever soft herbs you have lying around)

1–2 garlic cloves - pealed, left whole

3–4 anchovy fillets

1 tbsp sherry vinegar

½ cup olive oil (adjust as needed)

Salt & cracked pepper, to taste

1. Preheat the oven to 200°C

2. Season the lamb generously with flakey sea salt and cracked black pepper.

3. In a heavy ovenproof pot or Dutch oven, heat a splash of olive oil over medium-high heat. Sear the lamb on all sides until golden brown. Remove and set aside.

4. In the same pot, sauté the shallots, carrot, celery, and garlic for 6–8 minutes, until softened and fragrant.

5. Pour in the white wine, scraping up any browned bits from the bottom of the pot. Let the wine reduce by at least half.

6. Return the lamb to the pot. Add the cherry tomatoes, chicken stock, rosemary, bay leaves, and a bit more salt and pepper.

7. Bring to a gentle simmer, then transfer the pot to the oven, uncovered, for 20 minutes.

8. After 20 minutes, reduce the oven temperature to 120°C. Cover the pot with a lid and braise for 4–5 hours, until the lamb is tender and falling off the bone.

9. Lift the lamb out of the pot and cover loosely with foil to rest for at least 30 minutes.

10. Add the white beans to the tomato broth. If needed, add an extra cup of stock. Bring to a gentle simmer and cook for 10–15 minutes.

11. Meanwhile, make the salsa verde: Place all ingredients in a food processor and blitz until it reaches a loose, green sauce consistency. Adjust oil and seasoning to taste.

12. To serve, spoon the tomatoey bean broth into wide, shallow bowls. Top with tender lamb and its juices. Finish with generous dollops of salsa verde.

Eat slowly, in the sunshine with some crusty bread and some sweet tunes.

Stay safe, stay sexy, Stacey O x