It’s a great fish, a simple recipe, and nothing should go wrong. But it did, a little: I somehow ended  up salting this beautiful cod fillet a bit too generously before I coated one side with herbed breadcrumbs and lowered it into the pan. It happens, but I’m more often guilty of undersalting, so I have no idea why it went the other way this time.

There’s actually something that can be done to recover from such accidents, and fortunately I had the antidote right on the counter this time: Lemon. A squeeze of lemon or a drizzle of a mild vinegar usually helps reduce the impact of an injudicious application of too much salt.

I had been storing the sunchokes for some time, but they were in great condition; I had brought home the upland cress only 2 days before and it was super shape. Both tasted terrific, and their seasoning was fine.

• one 14-ounce fresh cod fillet from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, brought to room temperature, seasoned with salt on both sides, then only the top side (former skin side) brushed with a little French dijon mustard which had been mixed with a very small amount of water to make it easier to spread, the two pieces dipped into a mixture of homemade breadcrumbs mixed with some finely-chopped parsley from Norwich Meadows farm, browned briefly on the side coated with the mustard and breadcrumb mix in a little olive oil inside a tin-lined copper au gratin pan, transferred to a 325º oven and cooked until the fish began to flake (only about 9 minutes this time, because the pieces were not really thick) [the recipe is based on Thomas Keller’s ‘Wild Cod en Persillade‘]

• sunchokes (about 14 ounces), small ‘rootlings’ removed, trimmed, scrubbed, sliced by hand very thinly (1/8-1/4 inch), tossed with barely a tablespoon of olive oil (I think the small amount is somewhat critical to ensuring maximum crispiness), sea salt, freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, a bit of crushed orange-gold habanada pepper, a few fresh sage leaves from from S. & S.O. Produce Farm, and two halved bay leaves from Westside Market, then spread in one layer onto 2 large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pans (a single pan wasn’t enough, since they had been cut so thinly and they really should show a lot of surrounding surface to become crisp), roasted at 425º for about 30 minutes, or until they were brown, tender, and crispy on the edges, arranged on 2 plates and sprinkled with purple radish micro greens from Windfall Farms

• part of a bunch of wild garlic from Lani’s Farm, bulbs and stems, roughly chopped, heated inside a medium tin-lined heavy copper pan with a little olive oil, joined slowly, stirring, by 2 handfuls of upland cress from Paffenroth Gardens until the greens were only partially wilted, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper
• the wine was a California (Napa) white, David Marchesi Napa Valley Sauvignon Blanc 2016, from Naked Wines
• the music was the album, ‘Ernst Krenek: Complete Piano Concertos’, with Kenneth Woods conducting the English Symphony Orchestra, and, variously, the soloists Mikhail Korzhev, Eric Huebner, Nurit Pacht, and Adrian Partington

It was conchiglie al forno; costolette di vitello balsamico; carote, or more precisely, and in English, baked shells with mushrooms and radicchio; one veal chop finished with balsamic vinegar, wilted radicchio, thyme-roasted carrots with micro fennel.

I had half of the conchiglie al forno remaining from April 19th, and I really wanted to use it for a couple of primi, to some interesting secondo, which in my mind meant small meat portions. On Sunday it happened that I had a veal shoulder chop in the freezer, a portion I had already been concerned about because I knew it was smaller than what we would normally share. It seemed the perfect choice to follow the baked pasta.

It was.

Because I had accidentally stinted on cream when I had originally assembled the dish (baked pasta rule #1: you will probably never have enough cream), I added a little ricotta to the antipasto before I put it into the oven to heat up, and I drizzled a little olive oil around it once it was in the serving bowls.

That was the meal’s virtually automatic primi.

The second course may have been a perfect followup to the first, since I imagine both dishes to be very Tuscan.

• one thick 14-ounce pasture-raised veal shoulder chop, or what was described more precisely by Tony, a young butcher who was tending the farm stand that afternoon, as “a shoulder chop close to the ribs, which looks like, and could be described as rib eye”, from Consider Bardwell Farm, brought to room temperature, seasoned well with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, placed inside a small oval enameled cast iron pan which had been coated with a film of olive oil then allowed to get very hot, seared over medium-high heat for about 6 minutes per side, allowed to rest on a small warm platter for 4 minutes or so, the meat removed from the bones and divided into 2 servings and arranged on the plates where it was drizzled with a teaspoon or so of good balsamic vinegar, garnished at the side with purple micro radish greens from Windfall Farms
• two varieties of carrots, one of which I believe is properly described as ‘Purple Haze’, a hybrid, from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, trimmed, scrubbed, and dried, tossed in a very little olive oil with salt, pepper and thyme branches from Eataly, spread inside a medium seasoned Pampered Chef pan and baked at 400º until tender (the time would depend on size; these took about 20-25 minutes), finished with micro fennel from Windfall Farms
• a little radicchio from Eataly, from part of a head that had not gone into the preparation of the conchiglie al forno, warmed slightly in olive oil and seasoned with salt and pepper,
• the wine was a California (Santa Ynez Valley) red, Jacqueline Bahue Pinot Noir Sta. Rita Hills 2015, from Naked Wines
• the music was the entire album, of late 17th-century German music for the theater, ‘Biber: Battalia / Locke: The Tempest / Zelenka: Fanfare’, the performance by Il Giardino Armonico

When I arrived at the fish stand in the Greenmarket on Saturday there was only one remaining fillet of Blackfish (Eastern Long Island- and Rhode Island-speak: ‘Tautog’). It’s one of my favorite fishes, but this piece was a little smaller than I would normally prefer for the two of us.

Still, noticing that I had recently cooked all of the other local seafood selections available, I decided to ask for it anyway. I thought of serving an appetizer using a few local Hudson Valley shrimp from Jean Claude Frajmund’s Eco Shrimp Garden market stall, just steps away, if his stock had not yet been exhausted.

Two fish courses would complicate the dinner preparations, but I had been feeling pretty confident about my modest skills lately.

I got the shrimp.

It all turned out even better than I might have expected. The only problem was the lateness of the hour when it was finally served (I still have to work on that).

• one teaspoon of chopped garlic from Lucky Dog Organic Farm Farm heated inside a medium cast iron pan over a very low flame until the garlic had colored nicely, then part of one dried dark no-heat Habanada pepper added and pushed around with the garlic, followed by a pinch of Spanish saffron (DO La Mancha from Antonio Sotos), one small whole dried local chipotle pepper from Northshire Farms in the Union Square Greenmarket (not punctured, and left whole) and less than half of  teaspoon of freshly-ground cumin seed added, all stirred for a minute or two, after which 6 large, very fresh local whole farmed shrimp from our local Hudson River Valley (Newburgh) supplier of small crustaceans, Eco Shrimp Garden, were added (I had cut them all along their backs, from head to tail, ahead of time, to ease their shelling once they were served), seasoned with salt and pepper, the heat brought up a bit and the shrimp cooked until firm while turned twice, served on 2 plates with a generous squeeze of local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, finished micro fennel from Windfall Farms [both the dried Habanada and the micro fennel are my own additions to Mark Bittman’s simple, delicious recipe]
• four Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods, warmed in a little olive oil along with stems of wild garlic from Lani’s Farm, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, mixed with a generous amount of chopped thyme from Eataly

I was able to prepare all the ingredients for the main course before beginning to cook the first, so there was relatively short intermission between the them.

• one beautiful, very fresh 11-ounce fillet of Blackfish/Tautog from Seatuck Fish Company, halved, then prepared mostly as described in this recipe by Melissa Clark, but necessarily substituting a mix of Nigerian cayenne pepper and Spanish paprika (picante) for the Aleppo Syrian red pepper it specified, and spooning a small amount of a savory tomato mix from a previous meal at the very end; the fresh sage was from S. & S.O. Produce Farm; the olives were from Whole Foods Market; and the lemon juice from a sweet local fruit from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island
• a mix of 3 varieties of potatoes, because I wanted to keep enough of each of them for another time, all from Greenmarket farmers (Carolas from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, small Red Norlands from Berried treasure, and ‘blue potatoes’ from Norwich Meadows Farm) boiled in a vintage medium-size clear pyrex pan, drained, dried in the same pan, cut into smaller pieces, seasoned with Maldon salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, then rolled, still in the pan, with a bit of olive oil and both the bulbs and greens of a few ramps from Violet Hill Farm

 

• the wine through both courses was a California (Lodi) white, made with traditional Portuguese grapes, Ana Diogo-Draper Lodi Verdelho 2016, from Naked Wines

There was actually a dessert this time.

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

 

• the music throughout was a 1732 Italian opera, a pasticcio, curated by and perhaps with music largely by Handel, ‘Catone’, Carlo Ipata directing Auser Musici 

It’s good to be Sunday.

And its good to be well-stocked.

• a very late breakfast (even late as a lunch), of gently-cooked (chewy, not crispy anywhere) thick bacon from Millport Dairy Farm; fried very fresh free-range chicken eggs, also from Millport, enhanced with Maldon salt, freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, a bit of a mix of Nigerian cayenne pepper and Spanish paprika that remained from dinner the night before, sautéed chopped ramp stems from Violet Hill Farm, and chopped dill from Phillips Farm; pea shoots from Lani’s Farm, sprinkled with salt and pepper, served alongside 3 sliced Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods Market which had first been warmed in a little olive oil, seasoned, and mixed with a generous amount of chopped thyme from Eataly; slices of ‘8 grain 3 seed’ bread from Rock Hill Bakehouse in Gansevoort, NY (their Saturday stand in the Union Square Greenmarket, not toasted, and toast from slices of 2 other breads, ‘pane Mediterraneo’ from Eataly (whole wheat, rye flour; pumpkin, sesame, poppy, sunflower, flax seeds; millet, farro), and a Balthazar rye boule from Schaller & Weber; and finally, a very small amount of Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter from Whole Foods
• the music was Luigi Rossi’s 17th-century oratorio’, ‘Oratorio per la settimana santa‘,  William Christie directing  Les Arts Florissants (it’s the first Sunday of Easter, so we weren’t too far out of sync)

Conchiglie al forno, with mushrooms, 4 cheeses, cream, radicchio, and fresh sage.

I prepared this meal for the very first time exactly 25 years to the day before I served it this past Wednesday, and there have been many occasions between.

We call it ‘the magic meal’, always have.

The night of April 19, 1992 was the first time I made dinner for Barry. He had very recently been transferred from his employer’s New York office to the one in Seattle, at his request. I was devastated when he told me about it:  We had only begun to get acquainted, through a few chaste dates. He had always had to go back to the office after each of them, which explains one of the reasons he wanted to move out of New York.

He must have noticed I was upset, so he assured me he’d have to visit the New York office occasionally, probably beginning soon after he had settled in on the West Coast. I promised to make him dinner when he did. It was the first time I did; it wasn’t to be the last.

He didn’t return to his hotel that night.

The date (both senses) is now one of our 6 anniversaries. Note: When you don’t believe in marriage, you get to have as many anniversaries as you can get excited about – and remember.

I picked this particular dish because I could prepare it entirely ahead of time (it tastes at least as good reheated on another day), meaning there’s nothing to distract the cook from visiting with a guest (or guests); all it needs otherwise is a simple uncooked appetizer and either some fruit or a gelato, and the arrangements for neither course will keep the company alone.

The recipe for the dish is on this site. I still have the wrinkled clipping from a copy of the September 16, 1990 ‘New York Times Magazine’, where I first saw it.

It also appears in a book, ‘Cucina Simpatica’, given to me 2 years later by a dear friend with whom I used to share many wonderful meals in Providence and New York. The book was published in 1991 by Johanne Killeen and George Germon, who were, as far as I know, also the creators of this Lucullan dish. Jacqueline knew I loved the authors’ wonderful Providence restaurant, as she did, but did not know at the time how they had brought Barry and I together.

Here is the pasta inside the baking dish, just as it came out of the oven:

• the ingredients in my own preparation included shiitake mushrooms from John D. Madera Farm, Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter from Whole Foods Market, Neapolitan il Pastaio di Gragnano conchiglioni from Eataly, Ronnybrook Farms heavy (‘double’) cream from the local dairy’s stand in the Union Square Greenmarket, radicchio from Eataly, Parmigiano & Reggiano Bonat 5 anni from Buon Italia, Guffanti Fontina Oro Affinata from Eataly (substituting for ‘Bel Paese’ in the recipe), Lombardia 300-day Gorgonzola from Eataly, ricotta from Eataly, and fresh sage leaves from S. & S.O. Produce Farm
• the wine was an Italian (Sicily, Etna) red, Biondi, Ciro 2014 Etna Rosso Outis Nessuno, from Chambers Street Wines

There had also been an antipasto.

• thin slices of Lachsschinken (Italian: Lonza di maiale affumicata) from Schaller & Weber
• pea shoots from Lani’s Farm which, along with the salume, were drizzled with a little Alce Nero DOP ‘Terra di Bari Bitonto from Eataly
• slices of a Balthazar rye boule, from Schaller & Weber
• because it was a very special occasion, the wine in toasts before and quaffed during this course was a French (Champagne) sparkling rosé, Beaufort, André 2010 Champagne Polisy Rosé Brut, from Chambers Street Wines

 

• the music throughout much of the meal was Anton Bruckner’s 1891-1896, Symphony No 9, Rafael Kubelik conducting the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra in a 1985 recording

It was ‘Magische Mahlzeit‘ Vorabend (more on that holiday tomorrow).

For a little while I had been assembling a number of foods, prepared and fresh, that would lend themselves to being part of a picnic, and in particular, mostly a German picnic.

Last night, after a visit to Schaller & Weber in the afternoon, I was ready to assemble one.

As usual, the plates were anchored with a tasty dressed green, in this case various baby mustards from the Union Square Greenmarket, to which I added some grown-up arugula, also from the Greenmarket.

• the elements included a baby greens salad mix from Lani’s Farm mixed with some arugula from Bodhitree Farm; one German and one Vermont cheese: a sheep milk, Gutshöfer Ziegenkäse from Twenteland (a bos/Wald region in the eastern Netherlands bordering German Münsterland) via old Yorkville’s Schaller & Weber on the upper east side, and a goat milk ‘Manchester’ from Consider Bardwell Farm; 2 Rot-gebeizt pickled eggs from Millport Dairy Farm; 4 Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods Market; Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter; and finally, these all from Schaller & Weber: thin slices of Lachsschinken and a ‘Country Style’ pâté ‘Kassler Art‘, a neat tube of ‘Meretina‘ horseradish spread (we couldn’t resist the very neat packaging while at S & W yesterday), slices of a Balthazar rye boule and a ‘Westphalian Style whole grain pumpernickel bread’ from Chicago’s Rubschlager Bakery
• the wine was a German (Pfalz) white, Friedrich Becker Pinot Blanc 2013, from our much-missed former neighborhood wine shop, Appellation Wine & Spirits
• the music was Heinrich Ignaz Biber’s ‘Harmonia artificiosa-ariosa’, six partitas scored for various instrumental combinations, performed by Tafelmusik

It may not look like it, but that entrée is vegan. That wasn’t actually my objective.  I had merely turned to a farmer who was offering mushrooms after learning that my Monday fish mongers had sold out their entire catch before I arrived at the Greenmarket. The rest of the story was, luscious..

..not least because a few minutes later I picked out our very first asparagus of the season.

That evening the mushrooms were grilled..

..and the asparagus roasted (here on their way into the oven).

• four large portobello mushrooms (mature white mushrooms) from John D, Madera Farm (weighing something less than a pound when first brought home), stems removed, the caps wiped free of soil, and their ‘gills’ scraped off, allowed to rest for half an hour in a glazed ceramic pan just large enough to hold them, in a marinade composed of a couple of tablespoons of olive oil, almost as much juice of a sweet local lemon [this time orange in color!] from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, and half a dozen sprigs of sage from S. & S.O. Produce Farm, the mushrooms turned once while in the pan, and occasionally brushed with the marinade, then removed, pan grilled for about 4 minutes on each side, arranged on 2 plates, squeezed with more lemon juice, scattered with more sage, this time chopped, drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with micro red amaranth from Windfall Farm
• eighteen or so asparagus spears from Phillips Farm, trimmed, the stems of the larger stalks peeled, the asparagus rolled, along with a handful of thyme branches in a little more than a tablespoon of olive oil and a little sea salt, roasted inside a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan at 425-450º for about 15 to 20 minutes, removed to 2 plates, some of the juice of a sweet local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island

Then someone brought out a cheese course, and the meal was no longer vegan.

• three cheeses from Consider Bardwell Farm, left to right, ‘Manchester’ goat milk cheese, ‘Barden Blue’ cow cheese, and a blue goat milk cheese, all served with a bit of micro red amaranth from Windfall Farms
• lightly-toasted slices of ‘Pane Mediterraneo’ from Eataly

 

• the wine throughout was a French (Loire) red, Maison Foucher Chais St. Laurent Chinon 2015, from Chelsea Wine Vault
• the music throughout the meal was the album, ‘Elizabethan Consort Music: 1558-1603, curated and performed by Jordi Savall and Hespèrion XX

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