Recipes

Bistro looks from the standard four-pack

You know that rack of lamb with the green herb crust — the one restaurants charge like a wounded bull for? A cutlet is that rack, already cut into portions. So we borrow the whole trick: a quick sear, a brush of Dijon, a press of herby golden crumbs, then a short blast in a hot oven. The mustard glues the crust on and sharpens the lamb underneath, and the crumbs shatter when your knife goes through. It takes thirty-five minutes and looks like you trained for it. Four cutlets, two plates, one very good midweek dinner.

The golden crumb every Australian kitchen used to know by heart

There's a fair chance crumbed cutlets were the first lamb you ever ate. Flour, egg, breadcrumbs, a pan of oil — the crumbing line hasn't changed in three generations, because it doesn't need to. The crumb fries up deep golden and craggy, the lamb inside stays sweet and pink, and the whole thing is on the table in twenty-five minutes. Four cutlets feeds two of you properly, with peas and mash doing what peas and mash have always done. Some dinners don't need reinventing. This is one of them.

Charred lamb, silky smoke, jewels of sour-sweet — the pairing lamb was made for

Across the Middle East, lamb and eggplant have been finishing each other's sentences for centuries. This is that partnership at its best: whole eggplants blackened on the barbecue until they collapse, their smoky flesh whipped silky with garlic, lemon and yoghurt, then draped under charred cutlets and showered with pomegranate seeds. Every element earns its place — smoke, char, cream, and those little sour-sweet bursts that cut the richness. It's under an hour, most of it just eggplants doing their thing over the flame, and it plates up like something from a restaurant you'd struggle to book.

Three minutes a side, and the Greeks were right all along

Cutlets were built for the barbecue. They're thin, they're tender, and that little strip of fat along the edge bastes them as they cook — all they ask of you is fierce heat and a short memory. So do what a Greek taverna does: toss them with olive oil, lemon zest, dried oregano and garlic while the grill heats, cook them hard and fast, then squeeze the lemon over while they're still hissing. Four cutlets, one bowl, dinner for two in twenty minutes. It's barely a recipe. It's more of a habit worth having.