I hate sheep.
Hate them worse than rising property prices. Hate them worse than a leaking roof. Hate them worse than credit card bills.
Oh, it hasn't always been like this. There once was a time, dear readers, that I embraced all forms of livestock without a care for their colour or creed. Along with my previously discussed tree-hugger tendencies, I must admit that I once found pigs, horses, chickens... and yes, sheep, fascinating, majestic and even a little bit cute n' cuddly.
Until I actually had to deal with them in real life, that is.
It was a long weekend in Western Australia, and I was a sixteen year old boarder at the all-girls Catholic school I mentioned back in the first post of this blog. My parents lived some 3500km away, which made travel back to their place for three days somewhat impractical. And so, with much excitement and anticipation of clean living and country air, I accepted an invitation from my friend and onetime room-mate Claire Teale, to visit her family's farm near Lake Grace in the greater Southern district. My bags packed, my boots on my feet (Doc Martens rather than your standard farm-issue Rossi or Blundstones)... I was anticipating a weekend of good ol' fashioned fun. Hey, I grew up in the country (although, admittedly, about as far from mainstream agriculture as possible) - I was going to cope just fine with the isolation, the open spaces, and if there were animals involved, well, I just LOVED animals. No problem.
And then I found out... it was shearing week. The excitement was palpable! I'd never seen shearing before, and my preconceptions of the concept were largely limited to Banjo Patterson poetry crossed with rude versions of "Mary Had A Little Lamb." I was ready to witness the fine and noble traditions of mixed use districts across this wide, brown, unpleasant land firsthand!
And I must say, things were going well down on the farm. I'd managed to prove my worth by jumping out of the Hilux for opening and closing duties every time we got to a gate (the fact that I volunteered for this job roused slight suspicions, but they were overridden by the fact that no one else had to do it if I kept at it). I'd curtailed my hippy tendancies and caught, cleaned and eaten marron from the dams. I'd learnt not to rinse my dishes off in the sink like I did at home (water shortages and all that). I hadn't even squealed (much) when I got pooh on my purple boots. So come morning, Claire's dad gave me the honourable task of worming the sheep after they came out of the shed.
I confess: up until that morning, I'd only seen sheep from a distance, and perhaps once as a child at a hobby farm down in the Illawarra region. My first up-close-and-personal encounter with the creatures was attempting to herd them into the run before they were dragged onto the boards for their biannual haircuts. Oh, it was a jovial sport (mostly because there were five other people involved - five other people with somewhat more experience in livestock management than my good self.) I was having a great time. So when Mr Teale offered me the worming solution backpack tank and worming gun, I accepted the job with anticipation of the glee to come.
The glee came, alright. Until I climbed into the run with the sheep, that is. I think I managed to worm about ten of them successfully, which took about half an hour as I'd collapse into giggles in between each animal. And then, came my downfall.
A particularly large wether saw me coming from afar. He eyed me off. I eyed him off. I clambered along the fence to get at him. I climbed on top of his back, brandished my worming gun.... and that's when it happened.
BASTARD THREW ME.
BASTARD THREW ME OFF HIS BACK AND DOWN THE SIDE OF THE RUN.
BASTARD THREW ME OFF HIS BACK AND DOWN THE SIDE OF THE RUN AND UNDERNEATH HIM AND THEN TRAMPLED ME.
After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only about 20 seconds, someone heard my screaming, realised that I wasn't just mucking around, noticed that I had seeminly disappeared, grabbed the straps of the tank and pulled me out of the run. And that, my friends, was the end of my illustrious animal handling career. I was sent back up to the house to wash off and band-aid up the injuries I sustained, and then put on sandwich making duties for the rest of the day.
Thwarted. By. A. Sheep.
Yep. Not my finest hour.
How did it happen? How did a wooly bag of chops manage to outclass me?
In discussion during the aftermath of the event, it was decided that the size discrepancy combined with my lack of experience in just how stupid these animals can be were the main contributing factors. I tried to add in something about them being inherantly evil, but the look of sadness on Mr Teale's face when he realised that I didn't love his sheep anymore shut me up.
Since then, I've avoided live sheep wherever possible. Just the glint of madness in their eyes from afar is enough to prompt flashbacks of the fateful day that I realised that, like in humans, stupidity plus bastardliness plus power is a terrible combination in the animal world. But sheep have their role to play on our planet.
So enjoy this recipe for Lamb Shank Casserole.
2 large / 4 small lamb shanks
1/4 cup plain flour
Salt and pepper
2 tablespoons of olive oil
4 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 red onion, cut into eighths
1/2 cup white wine
400g tinned tomatoes, smashed up a bit with a knife
2 tablespoons tomato paste
2 cups chicken stock
1/2 cup risoni
1/4 red capsicum, cut into chunks
1/4 green capsicum, cut into chunks
6 button mushrooms, halved
1 teaspoon lemon rind, finely grated
3 sprigs fresh thyme
2 tablespoons continental parsley, chopped
Optional: 2 tablespoons goats cheese or feta, to serve
1. Pre-heat oven to 160 degrees celcius.
2. Mix the flour with the salt and pepper in a bowl, then coat the lamb shanks in the mix, dusting off any excess.
3. Heat the olive oil in a large frypan. Add the lambshanks and fry over a medium heat until well browned. Remove from pan and place in an ovenproof casserole dish.
4. Place the pan back on heat and add the onion and garlic, cook, stirring, for two minutes. Add wine and allow to deglaze the pan until almost evaporated. Stir in tomatoes, tomato paste and stock and bring to the boil. Add bruised sprigs of thyme, remove from heat and pour over lamb shanks. Cover tightly with foil and bake in the oven for two hours.
5. Remove casserole dish from the oven. Add risoni and remaining vegetables to the dish and stir. Re-cover with foil and bake for another 40 minutes or until veggies and risoni are tender.
6. Sprinkle shanks, risoni and veggies with lemon rind and parsley and cheese if using. Serve with some wilted baby spinach and a full bodied cabernet.
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