Stuffed Breast of Lamb with Herb Breadcrumbs

The breast is the cut nobody talks about. It costs almost nothing, sits there on the butcher's counter looking unpromising, a flat, fatty slab that most people walk past on their way to the leg or the shoulder. Their loss.

Boned and opened out, it takes a stuffing beautifully. Breadcrumbs made from yesterday's loaf, soft onion, garlic, and whatever herbs the garden has: parsley, rosemary, thyme. Roll it up, tie it with string, and give it time in a low oven. That's all it asks. The fat renders slowly, basting the meat from within, and by the time you turn the heat up at the end the outside has gone golden and crisp and the stuffing has absorbed all those lamb juices until it's savoury and rich and holds together in a neat spiral when you slice.

This is winter food. February, perhaps March, when the cold hasn't quite let go and you want something on the table that feels like it took more effort than it did. It's the kind of cooking that makes a small amount of money go a long way, and I'd rather eat this, honestly, than a more expensive cut cooked with less thought. I wrote it down in the notebook years ago. The note just says: "Lamb breast. Herbs. Tuesday. Worth remembering." It was.

A recipe is a conversation, not a contract. Use the herbs you have. Adjust the stuffing to your taste. The lamb will forgive you. We're only making dinner.