Braised Lamb Shank with Prunes, Cinnamon, Sweet Onions & Toasted Almonds

This is a dish that fills the house with the kind of smell people remember. Lamb shanks slow-braised in onions softened to near-melting, heavy with cinnamon, ras el hanout, and saffron, finished with prunes plumped in honey and a snow of toasted almonds on top. It's Moroccan comfort cooking at its most generous — a descendant of the classic lamb tagine with prunes, elevated by swapping diced lamb for whole shanks so every guest gets their own bone-in centrepiece. The meat pulls off in tender strands, the sauce is deeply spiced and glossy, and the sweet-savoury balance is unmistakably North African.

How to cook

Browning the shanks is the first commitment of flavour, so don't rush it. Pat each shank (4) completely dry — this is critical for a proper sear. Season generously all over with salt and pepper. Heat the neutral oil (2 tablespoons) in a heavy casserole or Dutch oven over medium-high heat until shimmering. Brown the shanks two at a time, turning every couple of minutes, until they're mahogany on all sides — 8-10 minutes per batch. Don't crowd the pot or the shanks will steam instead of sear. You want real colour here, the kind that smells meaty and almost burnt-sugar sweet; this is the foundation of the sauce. Transfer to a plate.

Now the onions. Reduce the heat to medium-low and add the sliced onions (3 large) with a pinch of salt to the same pot. The salt draws out moisture, which deglazes the fond from the bottom — give it a minute and then scrape up all those brown bits. Cook the onions slowly, stirring every few minutes, for 15-18 minutes. You want them soft, silky, and just beginning to turn golden at the edges — not caramelised dark, but melted and sweet. In a Moroccan tagine, the onions aren't a background element; they become the body of the sauce. Rushing them is the most common mistake in this kind of cooking. Once they're there, add the garlic (4 cloves) and grated ginger and cook for another 2 minutes until the garlic smells sweet rather than raw.

Spices next. Add the ras el hanout (2 teaspoons), cinnamon (2 teaspoons), cumin (1 teaspoon), coriander (1 teaspoon), turmeric (½ teaspoon), and saffron (¼ teaspoon, crushed between your fingers as you add it). Stir constantly for exactly 1 minute. You're blooming the spices in the warm onion fat, which unlocks their aromatic oils and transforms them from dusty to deep. If the pan looks dry and the spices threaten to burn, add a splash of water — scorched spices will turn the whole dish bitter. Stir in the tomato purée (2 tablespoons) and cook for another minute to take the raw edge off.

Return the shanks to the pot, nestling them into the onion mixture so they're partly buried. Pour in the stock (800ml) and add the cinnamon stick and orange peel (3 strips, pith removed — pith turns bitter during long cooking). The liquid should reach about two-thirds of the way up the shanks. If not, top up with water. Bring to a gentle simmer on the stovetop, then cover tightly and transfer to a 150°C fan oven. Braise for 2½ hours, turning the shanks once at the halfway point so they cook evenly. The oven is more forgiving than the stovetop for long braises — the heat surrounds the pot from all sides and there's no hot spot to worry about. The shanks are done when a fork slides into the meat with almost no resistance and the meat pulls away from the bone in tender strands, but the shank still holds together. If it's still tight at 2½ hours, give it another 30 minutes; shanks vary wildly in thickness.

About 20 minutes before the lamb comes out, make the honeyed prunes. This is where the dish earns its sweet counterpoint. Place the prunes (200g) in a small saucepan with the honey (2 tablespoons), cinnamon (1 teaspoon), orange blossom water (1 teaspoon), and just enough water to cover — about 150ml. Simmer gently over low heat for 12-15 minutes. The prunes will plump up and soften, and the liquid will reduce to a dark, glossy syrup. Don't let the pan go dry; if it does, add another splash of water. The final texture should be tender prunes in a sticky, fragrant glaze that smells like Christmas pudding's more sophisticated cousin.

For the almonds, melt the butter (1 tablespoon) in a small skillet over medium heat. Add the blanched almonds (60g) and toast, tossing often, for 4-5 minutes. You want them deeply golden and crunchy — they should snap, not bend, when cool. Butter rather than oil here makes them taste richer and helps them brown evenly. Tip them onto a plate to stop the cooking; they'll keep toasting on a hot pan.

Now finish the sauce. Remove the shanks carefully to a warm plate — they're fragile at this point and can fall apart — and tent loosely with foil. Fish out the cinnamon stick and orange peel and discard. Skim any obvious fat from the surface of the sauce. Set the pot over medium-high heat and reduce for 8-10 minutes until the sauce is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon and glossy in the light. Taste it aggressively. This is the moment to adjust — more salt almost always, a squeeze of lemon if it needs brightness, another pinch of cinnamon if you want to push the Moroccan character further. It should taste deeply savoury and spiced with just the faintest sweetness from the onions. The honeyed prunes will add the rest of the sweet balance. Return the shanks to the pot to warm through for a minute or two, basting them with the sauce.

Bonus points

• Preserved lemon: Finely chop the peel of one preserved lemon and stir it into the sauce at the end. The fermented, salty-citrus note adds depth and unmistakable Moroccan character that bottled lemon juice can't replicate.
• Toast your own ras el hanout: If you can find the individual spices, toast and grind them yourself — cardamom pods, cloves, cumin, coriander, allspice, nutmeg, cinnamon, dried rose petals, and black pepper. Freshly ground and toasted is an order of magnitude more fragrant than anything in a jar, and ras el hanout is one of those blends where it really shows.
• Fried shallot crispies: Thinly slice 2 shallots and fry in neutral oil at 150°C for 6-8 minutes until deep golden. Drain on paper. Scatter on top with the almonds for a textural contrast and a little savoury crunch against the rich sauce.
• Couscous royale alongside: Cook fine couscous in lamb stock and finish with butter, golden raisins, and toasted pine nuts. Serve in a separate bowl — guests tear off pieces of shank and pile them onto forkfuls of fragrant couscous.
• Pomegranate seed finish: A handful of fresh pomegranate seeds scattered over the top just before serving adds jewel-like colour and little bursts of tart-sweet juice that cut through the richness of the sauce.
• Flatbread to mop up: Warm msemen or simple Moroccan khobz is essential for anyone who wants to chase the last of the sauce around the bowl. Nothing goes to waste.

Serving

Lamb shanks need wide, shallow bowls with a generous rim — the sauce pools, the prunes scatter, and the bone stands up dramatically in the middle. Place a shank in each bowl, ladle over plenty of the onion sauce, and arrange the honeyed prunes around and on top. Scatter generously with toasted almonds so they catch the light, then sprinkle with sesame seeds and a good handful of chopped parsley and coriander for green. The finished plate should look rustic and abundant, not precise — this is a dish that invites eating with your hands.

Serve with buttered couscous or warm flatbread alongside. For vegetables, a simple shaved fennel and orange salad with lemon juice and good olive oil is the perfect bright, astringent counterpoint to the richness of the lamb.

For wine, this needs something with enough body to stand up to the braise. A Syrah from the Rhône or a Priorat from Catalonia — both have the dark fruit, spice, and savoury backbone to match the lamb and echo the cinnamon and ras el hanout without being sweet. If you'd rather go lighter, a dry rosé with some structure — think Tavel — works surprisingly well and refreshes between bites. For a non-alcoholic option, pour strong mint tea poured from a height into small glasses, the traditional Moroccan way — its sweetness and herbal aroma are the perfect ending.