Momofuku cook book

I'm a recent purchaser of David Chang's Momofuku cookbook.  My initial impression is an odd one, given that Chang is known, externally at least, for simple "delicious" (i.e., high fat, high salt) food - the book is really inaccessible to the home cook.  That's because so many of the recipes either rely on somewhat obscure ingredients, but more often, on sous vide cookery, which is a fine thing but difficult to replicate "ghetto" style at home, as Chang puts it.  

Nonetheless, two Changian-slow poached eggs are currently in a hot water bath on my stove, not even simmering at 140 degrees F for 45 minutes.  Let's see if this works. 

Pure Bred Lamb

I'll have more on this later, but a quick rave here for the lamb produced by Pure Bred Farms, of which I purchased half a leg for easter dinner. It's wonderful - unafraid of being lamby, but gentle too. Plus, I'm not sure there is a better cut of meat than leg of lamb, at least for a large group.

EDIT: Here's the more.  The cooking method here is simple.  I made incisions in the 

leg and added sharpened slivers of garlic.  Per Thomas Keller (ad hoc) I m

ade a couple of larger incisions and slipped in full branches of rosemary, and then sprinkled the entire leg with yet more of the herb.  The entire leg was rubbed with oil, and then heavily salted and peppered before being roasted at 350 for about an hour, and rested for almost as long (yes, really - it makes a big difference).   It could easily have been roasted for an

other 25 minutes to a nice, even, medium. 

The Nose v. Partenope

I suppose if one wants to know what kind of person I am, one might judge me by the fact that I found "The Nose" utterly repulsive, and thought the ultra-formal Partenope a work of the most lavish genius imaginable.

Of course the judgment you might make is that whichever of those I liked, I'm a pompous jerk anyway, but if that's true then I've no hope with you.

The feeling in my fingers is returning

The remarkable thing about the last few weeks for me has been the palpable sense that I'm remembering how to cook. I don't mean that I had forgotten taste or flavor or how to make a tomato sauce in the years now where regular cooking has been a thing of memory. Rather, there's a certain economy of movement, a sense of being attuned to small things (Ah, I hear that the chicken in the pan is sizzling differently, better turn it down now), even the routine of washing the dishes after cooking, that one loses when out of the kitchen. It is reassuring to feel it coming back, to realize that as I move towards my next great life transition at the beginning of the summer I'll be able to nestle down again amid my pots with some familiarity. Above all, the feeling is one of comfort, and I am delighted to be returning to it.