Even though there would be only 2 of us for dinner on Sunday, I had expected to cook something festive, something roast-ish (but necessarily small),  but a glance at the mid-April New York weather forecast (high in the mid-80’s, and humid), sent me back to my sketch pad.

My choices at the market when I was there 2 days before didn’t include anything lamb or goat, or even pork of an appropriate size; any of them would have been my preferences. I then turned to the farm stall I knew as an purveyor of excellent beef (and other meats). there, with Mike’s counsel, I picked out a very fine thick ribeye.

Then, on Sunday evening, everything was proceeding well (I was nearly halfway thorough roasting the fingerlings) when I finally had a good look at the cut that was going to be the centerpiece of our meal.

It was a full 2 inches thick.

I had no experience with a steak of that size.

Barry starts worrying when i begin Googling 30 minutes before we were supposed to sit down to eat, and I totally understand, especially when it’s already a bit late.

I didn’t find much this time, except many reminders that some folks take their beef very, very seriously (it’s something like coffee fanaticism), and that most of those folks seem to have outdoor grills, so I went with my instincts, guided by earlier steak experiences.

It was absolutely delicious, and I think the image at the top helps to describe that.

Barry was very, very happy.

• it all went together so fast that I’m not certain I’m remembering all the details, but the steak preparation involved bringing to room temperature one 100%-grass-fed 2-inch-thick Black Angus rib-eye steak (22 ounces), purchased from the very sunny Mike at Sun Fed Beef (Maple Avenue Farms) in the Union Square Greenmarket, drying it, rubbing both sides with olive oil, seasoning it well with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, searing each side for about 3 or 4 minutes over high heat inside a vintage seasoned cast iron pan, placing it in a 500º oven for about 6 or 7 minutes, turning once, then removing it when a thermometer had read about 130º (it would continue to cook outside of the oven), letting it rest for about 7 minutes, loosely covered with aluminum foil, removing the bone, dividing it into 2 equal shares, arranging the beef on the plates, where they were drizzled with a juice of a local sweet lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, a bit of olive oil, and draped with half a dozen ramps, an impulse purchase, from Eataly (not yet seen in Union Square this spring, they had to have come from somewhere south of New Jersey) which had earlier been rolled in a little seasoned olive oil and pan-grilled, bulbs first, the leaves following
• red French fingerlings from Race Farm, halved lengthwise, tossed with a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, sage leaves from from S. & S.O. Produce Farm, 2 small bay leaves broken into pieces, from from Westside Market, and a small amount of crushed dark home-dried habanada pepper, arranged cut side down on a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at about 375º for 15 0r 20 minutes, sprinkled with micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• a small bunch of frizzy purple mustard greens from Lani’s Farm, wilted inside a large enameled cast iron pot in a little olive oil in which 2 cloves of  garlic from John D. Madura Farm, halved, had been allowed to sweat, seasoned with sea salt, Tellicherry pepper, and a very small amount of crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, finished on the plates with a drizzle of juice from the same sweet local lemon used on the beef, and a bit of olive oil
• the wine was a California (Amador) red, Ana Diogo-Draper Amador Tempranillo 2015, from Naked Wines
• the music was Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos, performed magnificently by Tafelmusik

Because it was on what some folks call ‘Holy Saturday’ (as a child, a choir boy, and an altar boy, I was one of them), and it was the second day of the ‘Paschal fast’, the meal we enjoyed last night would have been much in line with Catholic tradition.

But that’s not why we had it.

Also, I didn’t actually cook the meal; I just assembled it.

It was an evening that would straddle Friday’s fish and a Sunday steak. I knew pasta would make sense, and then I realized that I had time to check out what Luca Donofrio had in his fresh pasta shop inside Eataly that day. There I spotted his ravioli filled with ricotta, lemon zest, nutmeg, marjoram, and mascarpone, and it both looked and sounded terrific; also, it obviously wouldn’t demand a complex sauce.

Once I had brought some home I decided that meant butter, a smidgen of green scallion stem, a bit of aromatic heatless pepper, salt, and black pepper. I wasn’t sure how I would finish the dish until almost the moment it had been placed in the bowls, when I decided I could not not use the red amaranth I had, if only because nothing else would look so spectacular on top of the pasta.

• several tablespoons of Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter heated slowly inside a large high-sided tin-lined heavy copper pan with a very small amount of sliced green parts of scallions from Norwich Meadows Farm, a crushed piece of orange-gold habanada pepper, and a bit of sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, then 12 ounces of a fresh ricotta-lemon zest-nutmeg-marjoram-mascarpone-filled ravioli from Eataly, which had just been boiled inside a large pot of well-salted water for 2 minutes and drained, slipped into the copper pan and mixed well with the sauce, everything stirred together over a low flame, arranged inside 2 shallow bowls, some micro red amaranth from Windfall Farms arranged on top

Just before the pasta there had been an antipasto, as there was a little bresaola left from the meal we shared with friends on Wednesday.

• a couple ounces of an Uruguayan bresaola from Eataly, arranged on plates with sprigs of slightly-flowering arugula from Bodhitree Farm, both meat and green drizzled with a good Puglian olive oil (Alce Nero biologico DOP ‘Terra di Bari Bitonto) from Eataly and some of the juice of a large local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, the greens seasoned with Maldon salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper
• slices of an Eric Kayser ‘baguette monge’

• the wine throughout the meal was a California (Clarksburg) white, Karen Birmingham 2015 Pinot Grigio
• the music throughout the meal was seriously-sad holiday music, streaming on Yle Klassinien

We usually sleep very late on Sunday, and since we almost invariably have some form of egg dish which is not quickly assembled, it’s often well into the afternoon by the time we sit down.

Today it was especially late (both the rising and the preparing, and thus the eating as well), once again ensuring that there would be only 2 meals for us on the day of rest. As I finished this particularly tasty breakfast just before 3, I couldn’t help telling the one assembled guest: “totally worth missing lunch”. Fortunately Barry had grabbed a digestive biscuit and a strong iced coffee even before I began cooking.

There was a centerpiece, because of the holiday (one which had meant a great deal to me growing up, and now only means spring), a 19th-century blown glass life-size egg, nestled inside an ancient (ca. 1800) miniature splint basket, both found in Rhode Island almost half a century ago.

• the ingredients for this particular breakfast included 6 free-range eggs and 4 thick slices of bacon from Millport Dairy Farm, the eggs dusted with a little dried orange-gold habanada pepper, Maldon salt, and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, served on the 2 plates with a sprinkling of micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge; there were also 4 halved Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods, heated in a little olive oil with a bit of sliced scallion stems from Norwich Meadows Farm, salt, and freshly-ground pepper, sprinkled with a few chopped leaves of a basil plant from Whole Foods; and slices of a sturdy ‘Pane Mediterraneo’ from Eataly (whole wheat, rye flour; pumpkin, sesame, poppy, sunflower, flax seeds; millet and farro), which were barely heated in the old toaster
• the Sunday (‘Easter Sunday’ this time) music was Carl Heinrich Graun’s early 18th-century (exact date unknown) ‘Easter Oratorio’, Michael Alexander Willens conducting the Kölner Akademie

 

 

It’s an excellent fish. Unaccountably, it’s less expensive than many of its culinary cousins (hake, cod, halibut, sea bass, tilefish, pollock, ocean perch, or porgy, among others) but demand and celebrity dictate these things in the food world, and the restaurant world, pretty much the same as they do everywhere else.

It’s also a good-looking fish, even when the original parts aren’t all there.

• two 9-ounce whiting fillets (a size larger than what I usually bring home, but that was what was available), from Pura Vida Seafood, rinsed, dried, seasoned with salt and freshly-ground pepper, placed inside a heavy tin-lined oval copper pan and prepared something like this Melissa Clark recipe, using over 4 tablespoons of a mix of chopped herbs (this time a combination of finely-chopped red sorrel from two Guys from Woodbridge, rosemary from Eataly, peppermint and oregano from Lani’s Farm, parsley from Norwich Meadows farm, and basil leaves off of a living plant from Whole Foods), briefly employing a little aluminum foil for a cover, and using both a small brush and a wooden spoon to repeatedly spread/ladle the scallion-herb butter (Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter) over the fillets, although last night the fish was finished on the plates with a garnish of micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge (because it was there in the refrigerator, and I love fennel anything).

I was originally going to serve only a green vegetable accompaniment, but I knew the fish would enjoy being around some boiled potatoes as well.

• two medium Carola potatoes from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, boiled, drained, dried in the pan, cut into smaller pieces, rolled in the clear pyrex pan, tossed with a tablespoon of butter, seasoned with Maldon salt and freshly-ground black pepper, and sprinkled with a little zest from a local sweet lemon from David Tifford of Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, and lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• one bunch of collard greens and half that amount of mizuna (remaining from what had not been used in an earlier meal) from Norwich Meadows Farm, torn into small sections (all of the mizuna and most of the collard stems were tender enough to include in the cooking), washed several times and drained, transferred to a smaller bowl very quickly, in order to retain as much of the water clinging to them as possible, wilted inside a heavy oval enameled cast iron pot in which 2 halved garlic cloves from John D. Madura Farm had first been allowed to sweat in a bit of olive oil with a little crushed dried Sardinian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, the greens finished with a little salt, freshly-ground pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a California (Lodi) white, David Akiyoshi Reserve Chardonnay 2015, from Naked Wines
• the music (well, it was ‘Good Friday’) was Mahler’s Symphony No. 6 (1903-1904-1906), Rafael Kubelik conducting the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra [“Es gibt doch nur eine VI. trotz der Pastorale.” – Alban Berg]

There were 4 of these plates.

We had invited 2 guests; neither had had dinner with us before, and one of them had not even been to the apartment.

I had chosen a menu which would normally allow me plenty of time to be with friends before dinner, but somehow I never got around to preparing all that I could ahead of time. In fact, I hadn’t even begun.

In the past I would have panicked before they arrived, or after, or more likely, both before and after. This time however I was completely relaxed, and because I didn’t want to miss any of the conversation, I even welcomed everyone into the breakfast room area next to the kitchen while I was working on the meal.

I was shocked that none of this fazed me, and that I didn’t miss a step.

Practice works.

I said at the beginning that there were 4 plates, but there were also 4 courses, plus our standing/standup starter of Italian grissini and sparkling wine.

• Mario Fongo ‘Il Panate’, Grissini con farina di riso nero ‘Artemide’, from Eataly
• the wine was a California (North Coast) sparkling white, Eponina Brut North Coast NV

• seven ounces of a delicious Uruguayan bresaola from Eataly, arranged on 4 plates with sprigs of slightly-flowering arugula from Bodhitree Farm, both drizzled with a good Campania olive oil (Lamparelli O.R.O.) and some of the juice of a large local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, the greens seasoned with Maldon salt and freshly-ground pepper
• slices of a ‘baguette céréales’ (golden and brown flax seeds, sesame seeds, poppy seeds, millet seeds) from Eric Kayser [not pictured]
• the wine was a New York (Long Island) rosé, Wölffer Estate Rosé Long Island 2016, from Chelsea Wine Vault

The main course was more successful than I could have hoped, and it also looked pretty good.

• over one an a half pounds of sea scallops from Blue Moon Fish Company, rinsed, dried, slit horizontally with a very sharp knife almost all of the way through, stuffed with a mixture of a couple dozen small leaves from a basil plant purchased from Whole Foods, one medium-size clove of garlic from John D, Madura Farm, sea salt, and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, all chopped together very finely, the mix removed to a small bowl where just enough olive oil was added to form a paste, the stuffed scallops then rolled around on a plate with a little more olive oil, drained, then pan cooked on a 2-burner cast iron grill pan for about 2 minutes on each side, removed to 4 plates, garnished with micro red amaranth from Windfall Farms, and drizzled with more juice from the same large local lemon used in the previous course
• twelve Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods, halved, gently heated inside a heavy tin-lined copper pan with the stems of some wild garlic from Lanis Farm, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, arranged on the plates and garnished with micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• purple frizzy mustard greens from Bodhitree Farm, wilted inside a large enameled cast iron pot in a little olive oil in which 2 cloves of  garlic from John D. Madura Farm, halved, had been allowed to sweat, seasoned with salt, pepper, and a very small amount of crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, the greens finished on the plates with a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was an Oregon (Willamette Valley) white, L’Umami Pinot Gris Willamette Valley 2015, from Chelsea Wine Vault

• small samples of 5 different cheeses, all from Consider Bardwell Farm [l to R: ‘Manchester’ goat cheese; ‘Slybro’ goat cheese; ‘Goat Blue’ cheese; ‘Rupert’ cow cheese; and ‘Barden Blue’ cow cheese]
• halves of 2 Honey Crisp apples from Locust Grove Orchards
• toasted slices from the same Eric Kayser ‘baguette céréales’ which had accompanied the bresaola
• the wine was more of the Oregon Willamette Valley Pinot Gris

• scoops of a hand-packed vanilla gelato, made in-house, from Eataly, sprinkled with chopped candied ginger from Whole Foods Market