I love any variation of pasta with cauliflower; I usually manage to include many of the tender leaves in the dish, and not just for their color.

For a baked version, I’ve almost always used a great recipe from ‘Cucina Simpatica‘, but Tuesday evening I didn’t have 2 of the ingredients needed, so I looked elsewhere, and pulled this Martha Rose Shulman recipe out of my files. I had only enough cauliflower for a half portion, so unfortunately there were no leftovers this time (this sort of thing always seems to taste even better the second time around).

• the ingredients were 3 small heads of yellow cauliflower form Norwich Meadows Farm, a pinch of Spanish Valgosa Safinter saffron, one large clove of Keith’s Farm rocambole garlic, 2 Agostino Recca salted Sicilian anchovies from Buon Italia, half of a can of domestic San Marzano tomatoes, a tablespoon of parsley from Keith’s Farm, 9 ounces of Rigorosa Gragnano rigatoni from Eataly Flatiron, and an ounce of Sini Fulvi Pecorino Romano D.O.C. from Whole Foods Market
• the wine was an Oregon (Willamette Valley) white, Chris Baker Willamette Valley Pinot Gris 2017, from Naked Wines
• remembering the day after, as I write this, that baked pasta has an association with Renaissance Italy and the Medici, it was seemly that the music we enjoyed with the meal was the album, ‘Firenze 1616’, a collection of music from the late-renaissance in Italy

This dinner may be almost the opposite of the one we enjoyed the day before.  but, while It was more Mediterranean, and certainly lighter, in several ways, it was a meal of game. For all of their suggestion of undomesticated ruggedness, neither the pork chops nor the chestnuts represented the idea of ‘game’ as much as the beautiful wild squid that dominated this entrée.

We enjoy game at least 3 or 4 times a week, thanks to the city’s maritime geography and the labors of our local fishers.

I’ve used this basic recipe for squid more than any other, rarely altering its simple outlines, but this time, with a wealth of seasoning peppers in the crisper, I just couldn’t help checking out what their input could do for a standard. I decided that while the squid doesn’t need the embellishment, a few little peppers do liven up the old standard.

• a large rectangular enameled cast iron pan heated on top of the stove until hot, its cooking surface brushed with olive oil, and once the oil was quite hot, one pound of rinsed and carefully dried large squid from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, quickly arranged inside, immediately sprinkled with a heaping teaspoon of super-pungent dried Sicilian oregano from Buon Italia, one small red-orange finely-chopped aji dulce pepper and one small yellow Grenada pepper, neither really hot, but both pungent and both from Eckerton Hill Farm, a section of orange/golden home-dried habanada pepper, picked up fresh from Norwich Meadows Farm last summer, sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, followed by a douse of 3 tablespoons of juice from an organic Whole Foods lemon, and a splash of olive oil, the pan placed inside a pre-heated 400º oven and roasted for only 5 minutes, at which time when their bodies had ballooned, removed, the squid distributed onto 2 plates and ladled with a bit of the cooking juices that had been collected and transferred to a glass sauce pitcher

• three Opalka plum tomatoes from Eckerton Hill Farm, each sliced in half and placed face down on a plate which had been spread with sea salt and black pepper, their surfaces dried somewhat with a paper towel before placed inside a hot grill pan, not disturbed for 2 or 3 minutes, then turned over for another  minute, finished on the plates with a bit of olive oil and a few drops of balsamic vinegar

• Betsey Ryder is just one part of the awesomeness of the Union Square Greenmarket family, and phenomenon, but my face lightens up every time I see her at her stand [note: SPACE on Ryder Farm , an artists retreat funded through a hybrid of community-supported art and agriculture, means that the farm is about so much more than vegetables]; on Saturday I was able to pick up a peppery arugula from her 18th-century family farm (Ryder Farm), dressed for this meal with a good Campania olive oil (Lamparelli O.R.O., Maldon salt, freshly-ground black pepper and a little lemon juice
• slices of a sturdy She Wolf Bakery miche
• the wine was an Italian (Calabria) white, Scala, Ciro Bianco, 2017, from Flatiron Wines
• the music was Charpentier’s 1682 pastoraletta, ‘Les plaisirs de Versailles’, performed by William Christie and Les Arts Florissant

It started with two paper baskets of local foraged chestnuts, the very last remaining on the farmer’s table in the Union Square Greenmarket. I had hoped to find some kind of game, or game-ish bird which they might accompany on a cool autumn evening, but then we were away for 5 days, and since my prize Asian-American hybrid nuts were getting a bit long in the tooth, I convinced myself that some very good pork chops would be able to stand in for the game I had not bagged.

I was encouraged in my illusion of a game dinner by memories from years ago of preparing and serving faux-marcassin, many times, using a white wine marinade described by Julia Child.

The process of chestnut preparation preceded everything else in assembling this meal; it began of course with roasting chestnuts over an open fire. In this case “over an open fire” meant over a perforated chestnut roasting pan above the gas flame on the top of our 1931 Magic Chef. When I was living in Providence I actually did roast chestnuts over an open wood fire on the keeping room hearth of my 1760s house.

It was great fun, and a few chestnuts exploded into the air (I may have neglected to slit those all through the outer shell beforehand) but the excitement was over in less than 10 minutes.

• two 9-ounce bone-in loin pork chops (not really very thick this time) from Flying Pig Farm, thoroughly dried, seasoned with salt, pepper, and a bit of crushed dried habanada pepper, seared quickly in a heavy enameled cast-iron pan before half of a large organic Whole Foods Market lemon was squeezed over the top (which was then left in the pan between them, cut side down), the chops placed in a 400º oven for about 13 minutes altogether (flipped halfway through, the lemon squeezed over them once again and replaced), removed from the oven and arranged on 2 plates, some of the juices that remained in the pan poured over them, some poured over the accompanying chestnuts, and the remainder transferred to a glass sauce boat
• fifteen ounces of fresh chestnuts foraged from a hybrid Asian and American tree on Keith’s Farm, above the City in Orange County, roasted inside a traditional chestnut pan on top of a gas range, sprinkled with a few drops of what was to be that night’s red dinner wine* (we had to open a fresh bottle for the purpose, so we decided to accompany the meal with a red wine rather than a white), wrapped inside an old cotton shirt, squeezed until they crackled, allowed to sit on top of the hinged cover above the range burners and oven pilot light for 5 minutes, the nutmeat then extracted from the shells and placed inside a heavy antique medium size copper pot, sprinkled with olive oil, a pinch of sea salt, a bit of freshly ground black pepper, sautéed for a few minutes, a generous number of rosemary leaves from Stokes Farm, half a cup or more of a chicken broth made with Better Than Bullion chicken base added gradually while simmering above a low to medium flame, stirring occasionally, until the chestnuts are as tender as desired (I like them a little firm) and the liquid had emulsified into a sauce, a tablespoon or so of maple syrup from Roxbury Mountain Maple Farm in the Catskills stirred in, followed by a tablespoon of chopped fennel fronds, from a bunch of flowering fennel from Lani’s Farm, arranged next to the chops on the plates, garnished with more fennel

• the head of Treviso radicchio I had picked up at the Greenmarket from Tamarack Farms was far to large to be grilled or roasted for just the 2 of us, so I stripped off 10 or 12 of the large outer leaves, washed, drained, and dried them as thoroughly as I could, tied them into 2 bundles, arranged them on a medium Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic oven pan covered them with lots of thyme branches from thyme from Keith’s Farm, seasoned the treviso generously with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, and drizzled them with a tablespoon or 2 of olive oil; they were then baked in a pre-heated 400º oven for 8 or 10 minutes or so, turned to the other cut side and returned to the oven for around 8 or 10 minutes, then arranged on the plates and drizzled with a very small amount of balsamic vinegar
• *the wine was a French (Burgundy) red, Bourgogne Rouge, Dom. des Meix Poron 2015, from Astor Wines

• the music was our third eighteenth-century Olimpiade in almost as few days, Josef Myslivecek’s 1778 opera, ‘L’olimpiade’, performed by Oliver Dohnányi  directing the Bologna Teatro Comunale Orchestra and the Bologna Teatro Comunale Chorus

The only thing even slightly exceptional about this version of our regular Sunday bacon and eggs breakfasts that I can think to mention is the fact that everything on the plate was fresh, with the exception of the salt, pepper, and capers (they arrived after the photo was taken). There were no other dry spices, and no dry herbs.

• the ingredients were eggs from pastured Americauna chickens and thick bacon from pastured pigs, both products of Millport Dairy Farm; one Opalka plum tomato from Eckerton Hill Farm; torn basil leaves (Gotham Greens Rooftop, from Whole Foods); a small finely-chopped piece of an aji dulce pepper (not really hot) from Eckerton Hill Farm; some tomato water or juices that remained from a salsa created for an earlier meal; the last of some Mediterranean organic wild capers in brine (from a Providence, Rhode Island distributor) that had been drained, dried, covered in olive oil, and served as a condiment on the side; Maldon salt, freshly-ground black pepper, scissored buds and fine fronds off of a bunch of fresh fennel from from Lani’s Farm; and toasts from 2 loaves of bread from She Wolf Bakery, a sourdough bâtard and a sturdy country bread miche with what my mother used to tell us was a baker’s hole, or, “the place where the baker slept” [the toast in the picture began as a thick slice of the miche; I had sliced it too thick to fit inside our 1934 art deco Toastmaster, and while it looks a bit like it might have been toasted at the end of a fork over an open fire, I used our ‘Camp-A-Toaster’: it was delicious, especially the dark part, which surprised me]

• the music was an oratorial composed by Carl Philipp Emmanuel Bach in Hamburg in 1768-1769, ‘Die Israeliten In Der Wüste’, Wolfgang Brunner directing Salzburger Hofmusik

When things go well in the kitchen. But not necessarily perfectly.

It was a really delicious dinner, although it wasn’t quite the dinner I had intended.

I thought it would end up looking more bright green than brown-green. I think I’ve pretty much gotten the crispy fish skin technique down, but now I have to know when to stop, or at least turn down the flame at the right time.

I’d say that the fish itself was superb, and cooked à point, which is an expression usually applied, in this country at least, only to steaks, an impreciseness which fits nicely with the meaty appearance of the bass fillets this time. Even the sauce was really tasty, in spite of having taken on a bit of an unintended brown butter effect.

In an earlier post I wrote that ‘the technique’ is from a page I found on line, ‘Perfect Seared Fish‘, written by Hank Shaw, who describes himself as a former line cook, but who is much more than that.

I didn’t have any micro sorrel or shallot blossoms this time, so I improvised a substitution for the main ingredient of the sauce: garlic scapes and celery stem and leaves, and I held the garnish. I think the decision worked out perfectly, except, maybe, for the brown part.\

• one 14-ounce striped bass fillet from Pura Vida Seafood Company, removed from the refrigerator, the thick and the thin sections each halved, salted just a little, allowed to rest at room temperature for 20 minutes, then the skin side scraped with a butter knife to remove excess moisture, both sides patted dry afterward with a paper towel, an 11-inch well-seasoned French steel pan heated above a high flame and a tablespoon, or a little more, of Mac Nut macadamia nut oil from Whole Foods Market poured into the pan, swirled to cover the bottom, and allowed to get hot, all 4 fish pieces placed skin side down inside the pan, which was immediately jiggled to be sure that the fish wasn’t sticking, the flesh side of the fillets salted, the heat turned down to medium-high, the bass pressed down lightly with a spatula for 30 to 60 seconds, to ensure that the skin browns evenly, then cooked without moving them for 3 or 4 minutes, the thinner pieces temporarily removed after only about one minute, set aside and returned before they were all to be flipped, at which moment the pan was first jiggled again, to see that the filets moved easily, the bass cooked skin side up for another minute, maybe a bit more, then removed to warm plates; the heat having been turned off before that minute was up, a tablespoon and a half of butter was now added to the pan, swirled so that it melted swiftly, followed by a generous helping of barely-blanched garlic scapes, from Berried Treasures Farm, cut into very short lengths, along with some chopped fresh celery leaves from from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, the pan stirred with a wooden spatula, the sauce immediately poured onto the 2 plates next to the fish already resting there

• twelve ounces of small red thumb fingerlings from Willow Wisp Farm, halved lengthwise, tossed with a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, a pinch of Robusto Smoked Salt from The Filling Station in the Chelsea Market, fresh winter savory leaves from Keith’s Farm, a small amount of crushed home-dried habanada pepper, arranged cut side down on a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at about 375º for 20 minutes or so, tossed around on the pan, arranged on the plates and sprinkled with chopped parsley from Keith’s Farm
• the wine was a Portugal (Dao) white, Casa de Mouraz, Dao Blanco ‘Encruzado’ 2016, from Flatiron Wines

• the day before it was Vivaldi’s run; on Friday’s Olympiade was Giovanni Battista Pergolesi’s 1735 dramma per musica, ‘L’olympiade’, Alessandro de Marchi directing the Tiroler Landestheater, Innsbruck, from the harpsichord [the earlier sections seemed pretty talky, and it took a while for me to get into it (well, it is described as a “drama with music”, and I figure no one important was expected to show up until halfway through a nearly 4-hour-long opera, especially when there was so much else to do in Rome, where it premiered]