A meal in honor of Keith Richards.

Keith Richards is my favorite guitar player, and somewhere I read that his most beloved food on the planet is Shepherd's Pie. So when Ms Food Musings' friend Sam announced Fish and Quips, urging people to complete the sentence "English food is not a joke because..." and then to prepare an English recipe, I knew straight away what I wanted to make. Thankfully, Ms Food Musings decided to help me.

The Sheperd's Pie we made was based on a recipe by Nigella, host of a famous British food show, and could be made with lamb or beef. We went with lamb, purchased at the SF Farmers' Market, of course.

The evening began with me slaving over the preparations for daiquiris: hand squeezing the limes, precisely pouring the rum and sugar syrup into the shaker and then vigorously and with tremendous effort transforming everything into a symphony of flavors to be poured with grace and style into awaiting glasses. Meanwhile, Ms Food Musings relaxed with a few potatoes. On finishing the drinks, I turned my attention to a veritable mountain of vegetables, an Everest like heap of carrots, leeks and celery. With nothing more than a standard chef's knife, I reduced this veggie behemoth to manageable chunks and deftly poured them into the food processor. As only a trained professional can do, I pressed "start'. During all this, Ms Food Musings taste-tested her daiquiri, offering two thumbs up, then deigned to slice a tomato or two for a salad. Veggies manhandled, I turned my attention to the stove and compelled it to let loose a great blue flame to begin softening the potatoes. Procuring a steel gray sauté pan, I prepped it with farm fresh butter and lit a fire of the gods beneath the pan and smoothly transferred the vegetables from the jaws of the food processor. Ms Food Musings observed the whole process, her icy daiquiri dwindling, an avocado practically slicing itself before her. After several minutes, which were counted with Jedi-like precision by my agile mind and double checked by a small, insignificant timer, I added the lamb and let the divine mixture simmer. As the  lamb and veggies neared perfection, sending forth a rich, hunger-inducing aroma, Ms Food Musings lazily pushed about two pounds of potatoes through a mechanical sieve, effortlessly creating the mashed potato top for the pie to be. Ding! Suddenly, it was time to transfer the pie filling to a serving dish and create the mashed potato top. To ensure that  no foul play  befell us during this critical moment, I stood guard at the kitchen door, while Ms Food Musings, barely needing to set down her drink, easily assembled the pie wrought of so much hard work and strenuous effort, all despite my brain injury, I might add. As a final flourish, I fed the pie to our fire breathing beast of a stove, while Ms Food Musings stood back and commented that her daiquiri had run dry. "In a moment," I shouted, over the roar of the gaseous fireball before me. Outside, the sun had begun to set over the treacherous waters bordering our bit of high ground, and as the pie attained a touch of golden brown in the maw of the beast, I ventured into the wine grotto to choose a bit of grog. I emerged unscathed with a bottle of Guado Al Tasso, 1996, and was surprised to the see that the pie had somehow escaped the fire pit and was being served onto plates by Ms Food Musings. But there was no time to ponder this odd event for I had to pull the cork from the grog. This I managed and we sat to eat. And I can honestly say it was worth every effort.