I’m not sure if this is a recipe or a process. It needs some background. For the past fifteen years, the Thursday through Sunday after Labor Day, I have been going to June Lake, a dozen or so miles north of Mammoth Lake on highway 395, all years but one to the Fern Creek Lodge. There I meet with my fellow simulation wizards (mostly gone now) and Texans (not me, them) and honorary Texans to converse, hobnob, and otherwise drink too much, tell lies, eat insane amounts of fish and red meat, gamble, hike, fish, and play golf. Many years one night has been lamb night. Our head Texan, John Marsh, is English, in the great tradition of “give me your tired, your poor, your hungry masses” come to America to thrill us with his interesting accent. He grew up having mint sauce, not, NOT, mint jelly, with his lamb. He has, alas, always been disappointed at our attempts to find mint sauce for him in grocery stores. This year, Alan Strech having encouraged us to take a more active role in purchasing and preparing dinner, I decided to show off Colorado Lamb. I have read on the internet that Colorado lamb is as good as New Zealand lamb, or better. So I went to Fox Fire Farms and ordered rack of lamb (milk fed) and goat (not much older). With only eight of us and twelve pounds of meat to go with trout, potatoes, and vegetables, we decided to go with lamb and goat two out of our three nights there. One night would be my lambsicle recipe. The other would be roast rack of lamb and goat. With John in mind, the night before my drive up to June Lake, I set out to make mint sauce for the roast lamb. Not your (English) mother’s mint sauce. My mint sauce—from no recipe, never before created or tasted on the face of this earth. Before we move on to the creation I must note that John ate it. He was clear that it was not classical mint sauce, but he liked it. I saw him spread it on his final piece of lamb long after any need for polite tasting. The Americans? Not so much interest.

First ingredient:

Four bulbs of garlic. Roasted at 400 °F for an hour and a half. Squeezed out of the cloves like toothpaste (very messy). Pushed through a fine mesh strainer with a wooden spoon. Voila! Roasted garlic paste. Food of the gods. Just don’t go near them.

More ingredients:

Squash, cut into cubes

Half an onion, chopped

Fresh bell and Anaheim peppers from my garden, chopped

Two jalapeño peppers, diced

Fresh mint, chopped then crushed with with a pestle and mortar

Sauté the onion in a pan.

Add the squash, peppers, and mint and cook until mushy.

When it starts to dry add good white wine vinegar and balsamic vinegar.

When it is ready take it off a stove and push it through a fine meshed strainer with a spoon.

At this point I had to diverge from my original plan. It wasn’t minty enough and it was too vinegary. So I dug through my spice rack and found some mint extract. I put in a few drops. Tasted. Whoops! Overdone! Holy minty cow! What now? I added green food coloring and thought. What do do?

I put some of the mixture on the stove in a frying pan and added chicken stock and vegetable stock. I kept cutting it until the taste seemed right. My American taste buds might have led me to under-do the mint. John said that the mint was mild. He did taste and appreciate the peppers. I didn’t have a reference mint sauce so I did what I thought was right.

Next I chopped some more fresh peppers, sautéed them just a little, and added them to the sauce to give it a little fresh crunch.

I can’t guarantee that this is everything I did. I needed a video recorder or something because I was winging it, changing my plans on the fly. I am astounded that I created a mint sauce that an Englishman could eat and enjoy, even though it was not his mother’s mint sauce.

By the way, the goat was good and the lamb was insanely good. Fox Fire Farms, remember it.

If you have the courage to try this tell me what you did and how it comes out.

Gregg