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lemon-roasted pork chops; fennel/balsamic/olives; tomato

This was really superb pork, but then so was everything else on the plate. And yet this was still March, and we were in the midst of a pandemic.

Barry and I live very well, with the help of others, and we will survive, with the help of others, even in the midst of our current deep, physical social isolation

  • two bone-in pork chops from Flying Pigs Farm, seared, squeezed with lemon, roasted, garnished with micro celery
  • four baby fennel bulbs from Norwich Meadows Farm, tossed with olive oil, balsamic, roasted, arranged with softened chopped spring garlic, black olives, fennel fronds
  • two Italian heirloom tomatoes from Shushan Farm, halved, placed inside the pan with the chops near the end of their cooking, sprinkled with chopped thyme
  • I didn’t record the wine or the music

lemon-roasted pork chop, micro scallion; tomato; bok choy

It was a delicious meal, including the pork chops, although they had delivered a lesson on the importance of proper doneness in meat: Despite my extreme familiarity with the simple recipe, they were at least slightly overdone this time*.

  • two boneless heritage pig pork chops (a total of 1.04 lbs) from Flying Pigs Farm/Maple Ridge Meats, seasoned on both sides with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, plus a very small amount of crushed hickory smoked Jamaican Scotch bonnet pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, seared quickly in a heavy oval enameled cast-iron pan, one halved California organic lemon from Chelsea Whole Foods Market squeezed over the top of each, after which the lemon was left in the pan between them, cut side down), the chops placed inside a 400º oven, flipped halfway through, the lemon half squeezed over them once again and again replaced on the bottom of the pan, a small piece of finely chopped fresh yellow aji dulce pepper sprinkled on top of the pork at the time they were flipped, then roasted for a total of about 15 minutes altogether [*which was a little too long in this case, maybe because the chops thinner than usual], removed from the oven and arranged on 2 plates, the few juices that remained poured over the top of each, the pork garnished with micro scallions from Two Guys from Woodbridge

  • two bright white and deep green ‘roses’. or bunches of bok choy (also known, here and elsewhere, as bok choi, pak choi, pak choy, pok choi, or ‘small white vegetable’) from Campo Rosso Farm, washed, sliced into roughly one-inch sections, wilted inside a large vintage, heavy tin-lined copper pot in a tablespoon or so of olive oil after 2 halved Keith’s Farm rocambole garlic cloves had already been heated there until they had begun to brown, the cabbage cooking process starting with the thickest sections of this wonderful brassica chinensis, that is, those closest to the root ends, the vegetable removed from the flame while the stems were still a little crunchy, finished on the plates seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, and drizzled with a little more olive oil
  • one large green-become-yellow heirloom tomato from Eckerton Hill Farm, seasoned on both sides with salt and pepper, gently heated in a little olive oil inside a copper skillet for a couple of minutes, arranged next to the chops and sprinkled with chopped lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge
  • the wine was an Italian (Veneto) white, Pra, Soave Classico ‘OTTO’ 2018, from Flatiron Wines
  • the main dinner music was from the ‘British Music Collection’ series, an album of works by Colin Matthews, whose music is absurdly underrepresented in programming today, at least in the U.S., with Oliver Knussen conducting the London Sinfonietta, and after that we listened to Alexander Goehr’s ‘Symphony in One Movement”, Op. 29 

pork chop with lemon/aji dulce, tomato; brussels sprouts

The chops end up looking very different whenever I revisit this recipe, one of my favorites, period. This time it looks like they were trying to emulate a tomato that couldn’t decide what color it wanted to be.

  • two 8-ounce boneless pork chops from Flying Pigs Farm, rinsed, thoroughly dried, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, before being seared quickly (above a medium high flame) in a heavy enameled cast-iron pan, after which half of a Chelsea Gristedes Supermarket Mexican lemon was squeezed over the top (the lemon 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, when most of one finely chopped aji dulce pepper (heatless) was scattered on top and the lemon squeezed over the pork again before being replaced on the bottom of the pan, which was returned to the oven, but 3 minutes before the chops were finished, one halved medium red and orange striped heirloom tomato from Jersey Farm Produce Inc. in the Saturday 23rd Street farmers market, the cut sides seasoned with salt and pepper, was also placed on the bottom, until the chops were done, chops and tomato removed from the oven and arranged on 2 plates, some of the juices that remained in the pan (there were very few this time) poured over them, chopped garlic chive seed from Space on Ryder Farm sprinkled on top
  • nine ounces of medium size Brussels sprouts  from Alex’s Tomato Farm in the Saturday Chelsea Farmers Market tossed with a little olive oil, salt and pepper, then roasted in a 400º oven until browned and crisp on the outside, or roughly 20 minutes (when they will taste surprisingly sweet and a bit nutty)
  • the wine was a South African (Western Cape Province/Robertson Valley) white, Arabella Chenin Blanc 2018, from Naked Wines
  • the music was Christopher Tignor‘s album, ‘Thunder Lay Down In The Heart’  

tomato bruschetta; lemon pork chop; sautéed bitter melon

Although I hadn’t anticipated any problems earlier, once I had started to put it together, this meal turned out to be a bit of a challenge.

Without doing any research on it, I had decided to buy a vegetable (I think it’s actually a fruit) that I seen showing up in the Union Square Greenmarket for at least several seasons: Bitter melon [momordica charantia], known in India as Kerala, or elsewhere as bitter apple; bitter gourd; bitter squash; balsam-pear, or any number of other names, whose number suggests it’s more popular than most of us would imagine.

Before Sunday however I knew nothing about this gourd except that there were Chinese versions and Indian versions (on Friday I bought the shorter, more deeply green Indian one, with the much more rugged surface), and that both were very bitter. That description  showed up everywhere, and otherwise I don’t remember any discussion of taste. I read only that it was bitter, very bitter; ‘an acquired taste’, the accounts all said, each adding that it might be something that could be acquired, if you were willing to keep at it).

I love cucumber, and I’m also used to sautéing it. While aware it was unlikely this particular beautiful gnarly green fruit, which also grows along a vine, would be anything like that favorite, my casual decision to associate it with cucumis sativus made it oh-so-easy to take home.

It wasn’t like cucumber, of course.

I have to make it clear that, for my own kitchen-conservative reasons (wanting it to relate to the style of, and to be incorporated into my own Western cooking, including the rest of the ingredients and recipes used in this  particular meal), I chose to not prepare the melon in a manner even remotely related to customs in China or India, which may or may not explain why it was still so bitter when I served it, even though I followed the universal advice to soak the raw pieces in heavily salted water to reduce that attribute.

Supposedly it’s very good for you, and it appears in many forms, including extracts and capsules, that reflect the ancient Indian ayurveda tradition, but health foods and supplements are not a come-on that works for me; I’m more likely to be attracted to the rarity of something than its advertised wholesomeness.

I also had a couple of very ripe heirloom tomatoes on the windowsill, but before I had investigated the bitter melon cooking process very far it seemed to me that I had a lot of it, enough to make a second vegetable unnecessary.

I decided to use the tomatoes in a first course, but I didn’t have any form of soft cheese, which would be needed for what may currently be the most familiar way to use really good tomatoes. I did have a great bread, a very dark, complex bread, a corn and wheat bread, nutty, with a hint of sweetness, a kind that would be the rarity I mentioned above, at least in an Italian antipasto context – or in any kind of tomato first course – so I improvised a bruschetta.

Something else was unusual about the meal, although not as unusual as Indian Kerala, at least on our table. Instead of a grape wine, we enjoyed a wonderful bottle of a local dry cider! Think serious Basque dry cider.

  • several heirloom tomatoes from Campo Rosso Farm, cut into 1/2-inch pieces, combined in  a medium bowl with local Long Island sea salt from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, some freshly ground black pepper, one small sliced and chopped and red onion from Norwich Meadows Farm, a little While Foods Market house Portuguese olive oil, and some chopped epazote leaves from Jane’s TransGenerational Farm, spooned over several slices of wonderful dark Homadama bread (wheat, corn, water, maple syrup, salt, slaked lime) from Lost Bread Co.after their grill-marked toasted surfaces, immediately after coming off of a very hot cast iron ribbed grill pan, had been lightly rubbed with cut surfaces of a ‘Nootka rose’ garlic clove, also from TransGenerational Farm, served with more epazote sprinkled on top

The main course followed soon after, because both the meat and the vegetable cooking times were short, and I was able to prepare most of the larger and smaller ingredients ahead of time.

Also, I was very interested to see how the vegetable would work out.

  • two very thick 10-ounce boneless heritage breed pork chops from Raven & Boar farm, rinsed, dried thoroughly, seasoned on both sides with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, plus a very small amount of crushed hickory smoked Jamaican Scotch bonnet peppers from Eckerton Hill Farm, seared quickly in a heavy oval enameled cast-iron pan, one small halved Mexican organic lemon from Chelsea Whole Foods Market squeezed over the top of each (after which the lemon was left in the pan between them, cut side down), the chops placed inside a 400º oven for about 15 minutes altogether (flipped halfway through, the lemon halves squeezed over them once again and again on the bottom of the pan, some finely chopped fresh habanada  chili from only a part of one pepper sprinkled on top of the pork at that time), removed from the oven and arranged on 2 plates, the few juices that remained poured over the top of each, the chops arranged on the plates accompanied by the lemon halves

  • one pound of bitter melon from Gopal Farm, washed, cut into 2cm slices, the seeds and pith removed, placed inside a bowl, a generous amount of salt sprinkled on top and with enough water to just cover them, allowed to sit on the counter for about 20 minutes, removed, drained, and dried on a towel or paper toweling, placed inside a large heavy well-seasoned cast iron pan, sautéed over a medium-high flame, turning several times, sprinkled with sea salt after as they pieces had begun to carbonize, and, well into that process, one small sliced red one sliced small red onion from Norwich Meadows Farm added to the pan and the onions allowed to soften, some black pepper and a pinch of dried fenugreek from Bombay Emerald Chutney Company (purchased at the Saturday Chelsea Farmers Market) added, the mix arranged on the plates when done on top of fans of some leaves from a small head of purple Romaine lettuce from TransGenerational Farm, drizzled with both a little olive oil and a small amount of white balsamic vinegar, added part of the way into the meal, hoping it might mitigate the bitterness of the fruit (which is also why I had earlier added the lettuce, at the last moment)

So, the post-dinner report on the bitter melon? In the end it definitely remained bitter, but by the time I had finished I was thinking I may have already begun to ‘acquire the taste’ (Barry was somewhat less positive), but I’m still going to look further into the possibility of bringing down the acerbity.

smoked chili/lemon-roasted pork chop; potatoes; radicchio

The entrée was a pair of simple pork chops. I’d prepared them almost the same way for many years, with slight variations in seasonings, but what pork chops they turned out to be!

I hadn’t been able to locate small chops in the Union Square Greenmarket for months, and at first I was disappointed again when I checked out the butcher display case at Flatiron Eataly on my way home Friday.  There I only found chops weighing almost a full pound, but I went with the alternative suggested by one of the butchers, a pair of thick boneless chops, since they weighed only about 8 ounces each. My prejudice is for cuts which retain the bone, both for the appearance and the taste (although I’ve seen discussions which question whether retaining the bone has anything to do with how good the meat tastes), but our dinner experience last night makes me re-examine it.

This was our first pork dinner since returning from Berlin. I have to say, while we had some excellent meals of pork while there, this was better than any of them (although, to be fair, we never had anything like simple chops). It was also better than any I had prepared in the past myself, using this basic recipe. I can’t account for either of these superlatives.

  • two thick 8-ounce tied boneless Berkshire pig Autumn’s Harvest Farm pork chops from Flatiron Eataly, rinsed, dried thoroughly, seasoned on both sides with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, plus a very small amount of crushed smoked dried jalapeño pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, seared quickly in a heavy oval enameled cast-iron pan, one small halved Mexican organic lemon from Chelsea Whole Foods Market squeezed over the top of each (after which the lemon was left in the pan between them, cut side down), the chops placed inside a 400º oven for about 13 minutes altogether (flipped halfway through, the lemon halves squeezed over them once again and again on the bottom of the pan), removed from the oven and arranged on 2 plates, the few juices that remained poured over the top of each, the chops garnished with garlic flowers from Alewife Farm
  • twelve ounces or so of ‘white potatoes’ from Jersey Farm Produce at our local 23rd Street Chelsea Down to Earth Farmers Market, scrubbed, boiled unpeeled in generously-salted water until barely cooked through, drained, halved, dried in the still-warm large vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot in which they had cooked, tossed with a little whole Foods house Portuguese olive oil, seasoned with salt and pepper and tossed again after adding some scissored fresh dill flowers from Lucky Dog Organic Farm
  • one medium head of radicchio from Norwich Meadows Farm, sliced broadly and sautéed until barely wilted inside a large, high-sided tin-lined copper pot with a little olive oil in which half a dozen cut up garlic scapes from Norwich Meadows Farm had already been heated until they had softened, seasoned with salt and black pepper, finished with barely a splash of white balsamic vinegar and arranged on the plates
  • the wine was an Oregon (Willamette Valley/Dundee Hills) white, Oregon Pinot Blanc 2016, ordered directly from Erath
  • the music was Verdi’s 1847 opera, ‘Macbeth’, Claudio Abbado conducting the Milan Teatro alla Scala Orchestra and the Milan Teatro alla Scala Chorus, with Giovanni Foiani, Shirley Verrett, Stefania Malagú, Placido Domingo, among others