“I don’t want to have lamb! I don’t agree with the massacre of all these innocent lambs just for Easter,” Mario exclaimed. I could not believe what I was hearing! Mario and I have eaten lamb cooked over the coals many times and we had always reclined afterwards with satisfied mumbles licking greasy fingers. My mouth had been watering for months over the possibility of thinly sliced chops with that hint of smoky flavour accompanied by a bold Umbrian red wine (where I live in Piedmont there is no real tradition of cooking over the coals of the hearth, although there is lots of bold red wine).

I was going to have my way or else. After a long lecture on the anthropological symbolism of the sacrificial lamb, I began to work the gastronomic side of the argument for lamb at Easter with a full exposition of possible recipes and accompaniments. It was a hard sell, but the goloso in Mario got the best of him. Eventually my partner in crime gave in: he went out on Saturday afternoon and came home with some beautiful lamb chops from a local butcher.

For me, certain holidays just have to have certain flavours and Easter is all about the lamb. Mario has lit the fire and my stomach is beginning to rumble. I walked into the kitchen and Mario had begun to prepare the artichokes that he was going to fry in last year’s olive oil right over the hot coals of the fire. I reached for a cork screw and took care of decanting the wine…