Lamb

I can't eat lamb. I've tried. I've even tried to blog it. I have pictures from two recipes, now 3, that may not see the light of day, because I can't eat lamb.
I tried.
I promise I tried.
Out of all three recipes, I ate most of it. Maybe most. Except for tonight.
It was just too tender. And yummy. And moist.
And with a flavor I just could not get my mouth around.
It's hard, because I don't know if it's one of those things that I don't like because of what it is (baby sheep, you know, very cute lambies) or because of what it tastes like (shrimp, you know, out of the ocean water I swim in, that murky gulf, it's supposed to be safe with no jelly fish or anything (ignoring the oil - tar - I used to have on my feet after every beach trip)).
I very much would  like to objectively describe the recipes we've made with lamb. There have been two with lamb shanks and one of a rack of lamb, which is not called lamb rib, apparently. And, in truth, they all very lovely, with great flavor and tasty results.
But I'm not posting recipes. Sorry. I don't usually do the preachy thing, and I'm not now. It's just not something I can do myself, the lamb thing. Pictures, maybe. Tomorrow. But not recipes. If you want them, let me know. They are very good, after all. It's part of that inner struggle.

(Go Ravens. No struggle there, just proper team spirit.)