There's a photograph somewhere in my grandmother's old album — Sunday, 1974, the whole family gathered around her Formica table, laughing as steam rises from the lamb shoulder. She'd wake at dawn to start this, nursing it through the morning while we played in the yard. By afternoon, the whole house would smell like rosemary and red wine, that rich, deep aroma that meant family was coming together. This isn't just slow cooking — it's time-travel cooking. Every bite is a snapshot of those Sunday afternoons when the world moved slower and the table was the centre of everything.