Eugen Wiškovský Eggs 1929

 

It was breakfast. But it started at one in the afternoon, and it was a Sunday, and it wasn’t simply eggs and toast, and it was shared with my best friend in all the world, and it lasted much longer than most breakfasts.   On the other hand, there were no mimosas.  We call this kind of occasional deviation from our cereal and fruit routine a breakfast-which-means-we-now-don’t-have-to-have-lunch breakfast.

Okay, maybe it was actually a brunch, even if there were no mimosas in sight and, except for our own conversation, it was pretty quiet in this breakfast room, where the meal was accompanied by Haydn piano sonatas or some such classics.

In the end it was only breakfast, and maybe it was also because I wasn’t totally awake yet, but it didn’t occur to me to snap a picture until long after we had finished making the toast on Sunday, even if it was absolutely delicious, and included some unusual elements.  Later in the day I realized that I could still post about it if  I found a sympathetic image on line which at least remotely related to our eggs, herbs, and near-bacon.  I looked, and decided to go with one of the most abstract egg-scapes I had come across (and not least because it was one with which not everyone out there would be familiar).

We did skip lunch.

Even had Barry not been sitting across from me, it was a very beautiful [br]unch table.   Absent a photo document, you’ll have to take my word for the aesthetics of the eggs, but it should not take a huge leap of faith, since eggs are notoriously photogenic even without any help.

• very fresh, organic eggs (of free-range hens) from Norwich Meadows Farm, fried in a enameled cast iron pan until the whites had barely set, served with delicious slices of cured pork shoulder (‘bacon’, but tasting more like a cross between bacon and corned beef) from Tamarack Hollow Farm, barely heated above a low flame in the 12″ cast iron super pan, and toasts of  Sullivan Street Bakery’s sturdy Trucio Saré; the condiments on the table included a bit of the herb-lemon zest sauce not used on the swordfish the night before, now mixed with a bit of yellow Thai pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm, and a small ramekin filled with chopped fennel fronds from Norwich Meadows Farm

[image from Something Between Want and Desire]

This swordfish recipe is subject to an infinite number of variations, as it’s basically only a matter of assembling virtually any number and kind of herbs, in combination with finely-minced garlic, lemon zest, and oil, in order to cover two surfaces of a swordfish fillet.  I put together a meal very similar to this one at the end of August.   This particular formula has become a swordfish favorite of ours, possibly displacing the delicious variations of this earlier hit.

• swordfish from PE & DD Seafood, herb-rubbed (this time using oregano and Marjoram from Central Valley Farm, parsley and sage from Phillips Farm, thyme from Stokes Farm, and lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge), along with lemon zest and finely-minced garlic from Garden of Spices Farm, all chopped together with salt and pepper, then pan-grilled while basting with some of the reserved rub mixture, finished with a squeeze of lemon and a drizzle of olive oil
• turnip greens from Norwich Meadows Farm, wilted along with halved garlic cloves from Garden of Spices Farm which had been lightly-browned in olive oil
• a salad of wedges cut from four small heirloom tomatoes (red, green, orange and yellow) from Berried Treasures, dressed with chopped copper fennel fronds from Norwich Meadows Farm, some good olive oil, and dashes of white balsamic vinegar
• the wine was an Italian white, le Salse, Verdicchio di matelica 2013 from Flatiron Wines

This meal was almost an exact repeat of one we enjoyed two months ago, except for some of the details of the ingredients and their sources, and the fact that this time I cut the single fillet into six pieces rather than four before breading and sautéing them. Also, there were more fennel fronds involved – because they were there, and because I really love them.

This is the somewhat feverish post I published in August, where I included two images; the description of last night’s meal is below.

• a one-pound pollock fillet from Pura Vida, cut into six sections, dredged in seasoned flour, sautéed in olive oil over a fairly high flame, served with a salsa fresca (assembled just before the fish was begun) of halved red and gold cherry tomatoes from Berried Treasures, minced garlic from Garden of Spices Farm and a minced small onion from Phillips Farm, chopped lovage from Keith’s Farm, a whole fresh yellow Thai pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm, sherry vinegar, salt, and pepper [the basic recipe is from Mark Bittman’s “Fish Complete Guide to Buying and Cooking”];   the vegetable accompaniment was a separated bulb of fennel from Norwich Meadow Farms sautéed over medium high heat with garlic, chiles, and fennel seeds in a large iron pan until the fennel began to color, then, with the heat lowered and the pan covered, cooked for ten minutes, a very generous amount of chopped fennel fronds added at the end [the “Slow-cooked fennel” recipe is from “Italian Easy: Recipes from the London River Cafe“]
• the wine was a Portuguese white, Aveleda Douro D.O.C. 2012

I’ve written about this terrific recipe before, and it was described by Sarah Dickerman in the New York Times in 2006

Unfortunately the picture was snapped before I added some of the extraordinary juices from the bottom of the pot, so the bivalves look a little high and dry here.

• two pounds of scrubbed mussels purchased from Blue Moon Fish from  in the Union Square Greenmarket, combined in a large heavy enameled pot with two cups of a variety of halved heirloom cherry tomatoes from Berried Treasures, half a cup of a good white wine, a few tablespoons of chopped shallots form Phillips Farm, three tablespoons of butter, a good amount of freshly-ground black pepper, and some coarsely-chopped lovage from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, everything steamed over high heat for a few minutes, then served with thick slices of Trucio from Sullivan Street Bakery (a superb rustic sourdough bread with a dark crust)
• the wine was a New Zealand white, Oyster Bay Sauvignon Blanc, 2013, from Marlborough

Since we were expecting to be out fairly late last night, gallivanting with Richard Strauss’s family and the American Symphony Orchestra, I decided the day before that there there would be no time to actually cook something when we returned home.  There were other possibilities than leftover pasta (excellent pizza, delivered, or maybe one of Mark Bittman’s 10-minute meals), so we weren’t going to starve, but I was pretty sure that a return engagement of my smoked striped bass spaghetti would be at least as good as the first.

I was right, and in fact I had underestimated how good it would be.  I had set aside about a quarter of the pasta before mixing the rest with the ingredients described Tuesday when I first prepared this dish warm.  Last night I added the plain spaghetti to the rest and found the taste with the ‘diluted’ smoked fish was more subtle – in fact even better – than before.  What did I learn, or re-learn?  That smoked anything goes a long way when mixed with other ingredients.  The taste lesson could also be money-saver as well.

I hadn’t expected the meal to be as interesting as it turned out to be, so this time there were no photos as we sat down.  In lieu of a bowl of pasta above I’ve included an image from the farmers’ Greenmarket which includes the two tomatoes I had added to the dish before serving it last night.

• the remaining spaghetti with shallots, garlic, tomatoes, parsley, and smoked Striped Bass, from two nights back, removed from the refrigerator, tossed with two chopped heirloom tomatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm and some more parsley from Paffenroth Gardens, more chiles, and a bit of black pepper, while being brought almost to room temperature, then drizzled with a bit of olive oil and sprinkled with more parsley
• the wine was an Italian white, a surprisingly good Orvietto, Palazzone Orvieto Classico 2013