Sour Cherry Braised Lamb

This past Monday, I was the guest chef for a pop-up series at one of the sweetest spots in New York City: Bar Oliver. This all-day café and Spanish tapas spot manages to achieve the unachievable in hospitality—to create a place that can serve my 30-year-old friends on their internet dates while simultaneously drawing in Miuccia Prada, who showed up to our event. (When I introduced myself, she replied, “I’m not hungry.” But still, records show that she was there, whether she ate or not.)

It takes a cast of deeply caring people working behind the scenes to make a restaurant stand out in New York City. I really believe that’s the alchemy that allows one to rise to the top—not Michelin stars or massive investment, but mutual respect and integrity behind the scenes. It can be really uncomfortable to waltz into another chef’s kitchen for a day, especially as a woman and a self-trained chef, so it’s worth celebrating the people who are big enough to invite collaboration and share their space.

Upon our first meeting, Bar Oliver’s Chef Oscar Paz recounted a tale of a transcendent tortilla española that brought him to tears, and immediately I knew I was with my people. (Paz hails from Mexico City but cooks Spanish food, making him the embodiment of so many things I love.) He was encouraging and excited by my ideas, and together we pulled together a tapas menu that wove together classic Spanish references with just enough playful perversions of the form.

Instead of a classic tortilla española, I rolled layers of fried potato and caramelized onion into a Japanese tamago, sliced it, and placed it on a piece of bread with aioli, togarashi, and seaweed. We took Bar Oliver’s mussels escabeche, jazzed them up with sherry vinegar, olive oil, and fresh chile, and tossed them with a bag of salty potato chips.

We added pine nuts to a classic romesco sauce and tried our hand at calcots, the Catalan spring onion dish traditionally cooked in massive piles over open flames until blackened and ashen on the outside, tender and sweet within. Then there was the star of the show, a sour cherry braised lamb finished with tarragon and tucked inside a crispy pani puri (an Indian vehicle for all kinds of snacks). These were one-bite delights, and I am sharing the recipe for the lamb below.

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Thank you to Jonas Lafortezza, one of Bar Oliver’s three owners, for inviting me in and making me feel so welcome. Check out the next installment of their guest chef series on July 1st, featuring Chef Hector from El Acran.

Braising is the gateway to confident carnivorous cooking. A bone-in lamb shank is nearly impossible to mess up—the bone imparts deep flavor, and the collagen-rich cut keeps the meat tender and juicy no matter how long it simmers in the braising liquid. The earthiness of lamb calls for acidity and sweetness, which show up here in layers of sour cherry flavor from preserved, fresh, and freeze-dried fruit.

It’s almost sour cherry season, so if they’ve already hit your market, use fresh ones instead of the freeze-dried cherries (I buy mine from Nuts.com). Sour cherry preserves are a staple in Eastern European cooking, and you can find them at most supermarkets in the jam section (even Bonne Maman makes one).

This dish is really best made ahead (you want to refrigerate it and skim the fat), so it’s perfect for entertaining. I served it in a fried panipuri shell, but you can serve it with rice as a main course.