I was in such a rush to get to the Greenmarket Wednesday before Thanksgiving that I forgot to bring my camera. That means that I don’t have any notes for the vegetable’s farm sources (I normally take pictures of a stall’s sign to remember, once I get home, where things came from). I can only say that I’m grateful for our area’s delayed full frost, since there was still a wonderful bounty of just about everything late harvest-y.
The roots gathered for this meal were terrific, the Sekt a delight, and the beautifully-cut (a rich layer of fat), very juicy Flying Pigs Farm pork chops were phenomenal!
- grissini (Roberto)
- wine: German sparkling, from the Mosel (Ruwer), Eleonora Riesling Halbtrocken 2002 Kaseler Dominikanerberg (Kasel im Ruwertal) produced by Christoph von Nell, from a private tasting of wines distributed by Mosel Wine Merchant
- pork chops from from the Flying Pigs people at the Greenmarket, seared, then oven-roasted with lemon; accompanied by slices of roasted parsnips and celery root roasted in a hot oven and finished with chopped parsley; and cavalo nero sauteed in oil in which whole bruised garlic had first been cooked lightly, finished with salt and pepper and a drizzle of oil
- wine: Spanish white, a Rueda, Shaya 2008 Verdejo old vines from 67 Wine
This meal wouldn’t have begun as it did if I hadn’t spotted those fava beans.
While shopping at Buon Italia this afternoon I happened to see two or three still-unopened bright green pods on plates lying on the wooden dining table near the back of the store. This was the corner where the owner’s own family and workers take their mid-day meal. Along with half a loaf of one of those familiar Italian Easter breads with the embedded eggs, the fava were among the remains of what appeared to have been a beautiful seasonal lunch just ended. I assumed the beans had come from the large greengrocer across the hall, and immediately headed over there to find out.
Every year at the greenmarket I discover I’ve somehow missed out on the earliest tender beans (which require no cooking) and I have to resign myself to the long preparation process needed to enjoy the pleasures of this ancient legume. This spring it may look like I’ve finally gotten ahead of the game, but I think the folks who bring our local bounty to Union Square will still be keeping the youngest, tenderest stock all for themselves.