Remember that lamb I did in the slow cooker? I put the last chunk in a yogurt container and poured all the lovely juices over top, and stuck it in the fridge. (Among a literal forest of yogurt containers filled with leftover lentils and sourdough starter.)
It gelled, as meaty juices do, with all the fat evenly hardened on the surface. I plucked it off, chopped the meat and squished the lot into a small baking dish, then sprinkled it with frozen peas (they’ll cook when I bake the pie). This all occurred yesterday, as I was making the lentil-sweet potato thing; while I was at it I boiled up some surplus diced sweet potato, mashed it and spread it over the meat and peas. It felt a little evil-genius, only in a good way. Two dinners in one go.
So tonight all that needed to be done was to pop it in the oven to warm through. I have to admit, it was a little runny. I should have sprinkled the lamb chunks with some flour. But a slotted spoon solved that problem, and it was nonetheless delicious.
W and I spent the time we might have otherwise spent cooking (he’s quite the keener in the kitchen) planting tomato, rosemary and basil seeds to get a head start on our garden. So now all our prime eating space is taken up by a) the old computer (don’t ask), and b) a miniature potted garden. Or more accurately, a bunch of tubs of dirt with Popsicle sticks stuck in, which may or may not actually sprout into anything.