Cold Leg of Mutton

Gigot de mouton froid (cold leg of mutton) teaches restraint. The one true thing is this: chill the cooked joint intact before you carve it. Cold meat holds its juices, the fat firms, and a sharp knife can make those fine, even slices that turn yesterday's roast into a deliberate lunch rather than a plate of leftovers.

The original entry assumed a large cooked joint waiting in the cool larder and a practiced carver ready to present it. It required no saucier, stockpot, or salamander, because none belongs here. At home, reserve an intact section large enough for four and chill it promptly. The brigade-sized display joint is scaffolding and can go; cold mutton, carving across the grain, and an unadorned platter are the dish itself. One cook, one knife, tomorrow's lunch.

When it is right, each slice shows a fine browned rim around firm, tender meat, and the plain plate makes that workmanship visible. If the knife begins tearing rather than gliding, stop instead of sawing. Ça se rattrape: chill the meat again and sharpen the blade. The step that matters most is still the first one, keep the joint whole and get it thoroughly cold.