Lammekulotte med Sennepsskorpe

April in Copenhagen. The light is back. Not the thin, hopeful light of March, but the real thing, warm on the windows by mid-morning, lasting long enough that you eat dinner before it fades. The markets have new potatoes the size of marbles and asparagus bundled in white paper. And somewhere, in every butcher's window across the city, the lammekulotte appears. Paaskelam. Easter lamb. Spring on a plate.

This is the roast that marks the turn of the year in Danish kitchens. Not the heavy, slow-cooked meats of winter, but something quicker, brighter, cooked with heat and confidence. A lamb rump, fat cap scored in a tight crosshatch, seared until golden, then coated in a crust of two mustards, garlic, fresh thyme, and breadcrumbs. The oven does the rest. Twenty-five minutes at high heat and the crust turns deep gold while the meat inside stays pink and tender.

I want you to pay attention to two things. First: the scoring. You're cutting through fat, not into meat. Every line you make is a channel for salt and mustard to reach the lamb, and a path for fat to render and crisp. Second: the resting. Fifteen minutes, not five. The lamb needs that time to collect itself, to pull its juices back in and settle. Skip the rest and you'll carve beautifully and watch the board fill with liquid that should have stayed in the meat. Give it the time and you'll understand why patience is the last ingredient in every good roast.