• the pasta salad was some spaghettini and snow peas from a dinner of a few days ago, served at room temperature, this time accompanied by some baby greens from Lani’s Farm

• The entrée was a fillet of striped bass from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, marinated for about half an hour in lemon juice, olive oil, sliced fresh garlic from Lucky Dog Organic, stems of fresh oregano from Lani’s Farm, and freshly-ground black pepper, drained and pan-grilled for a few minutes, finished with lemon juice, olive oil, and a mixture of more fresh oregano, now chopped, and parsley from Stokes Farm [the basic recipe is Martha Stewart’s]
• the vegetable was a generous serving of minutina from Norwich Meadows Farm, wilted in medium-hot olive oil in which some sliced fresh garlic from Lucky Dog Organic had [almost] begun to brown

• The dark sweet cherries were from Healthway Farms

 

• The wine, for the first two courses, was a New York white from the Finger Lakes, Brooklyn Winery Chardonnay  2013
• the music was Johann Nepomuk Hummel’s Piano Sonata No. 2 in E-flat major, played by Hae-Won Chang

 

I was putting this Tunisian cauliflower frittata together on the same day I was reading the sad story of foreign visitors’ fleeing Tunisia because of warnings of terrorism.  My choice of an entrée had not been influenced by it, but the news added depth to our appreciation of this dish – and of Tunisia.

It’s a simple concoction to put together, can be done even a day ahead of time (and any leftovers taste great even the day after that), and can, and indeed should, be served at room temperature.  A perfect summer meal.

We shared it with a friend who wanted to share some excellent rosé wine with us.  Before we had made that arrangement I had bought some yellow cauliflower from one of my favorite Greenmarket farmers, but it was not enough for this recipe, so I retrieved a 20-ounce head from Eataly and saved the smaller one for another meal.

I set out plates of Speck as an appetizer, even though that element of the meal was hardly Tunisian.

• Speck from Eataly, on a plate with arugula from John D. Maderna Farm which was dressed with oil and lemon, accompanied by slices of whole wheat (‘Integrale’) from Eataly

The picture of the frittata resting on top of my 1931 Magic Chef oven was taken just after it had been removed from the oven the day before we enjoyed it.

• the frittata included a small yellow onion from Norwich Meadows Farm, fresh garlic from Lucky Dog Organic, eggs from Millport Dairy, parsley from Stokes Farm, caraway seeds, Red Cow Parmesan cheese from Eatlay, and a terrific cayenne from Spices and Tease [the recipe is from Martha Rose Shulman in the New York Times]
• a salad of halved tomatoes (red cherry from from Norwich Meadows Farm, and golden golden grape Florida tomatoes from Eataly) tossed with sliced small Persian cucumbers from Norwich Meadows Farm, dressed with olive oil, a red rioja wine vinegar, and torn spearmint leaves from Phillips Farm
• the central wine of the evening was a German rosé, Koehler Ruprecht 2014 Pinot Noir Rosé Kabinett trocken from the Pfalz
• the music was our conversation

While we were enjoying this meal two weeks back, Barry said that he doesn’t want to have steak unless it’s as good as this one.

I hadn’t really planned a dinner for that Saturday evening, so it was serendipity when we found ourselves in the West Village, more or less shut out (because of the enormous line) of the last day of Gavin Brown’s crowd-drawing and crowd-pleasing show, ‘Untitled: 12 Horses‘.  Barry suggested we walk a bit further in the rain and check out what the people at Hudson & Charles might be able to tempt us with, and we went hiome with two beautiful Delmonico steaks.

We had a small cheese course after the entrée.

• Delmonico steaks from Hudson & Charles finished with lemon, savory from Berried Treasures, a drizzle of olive oil on the steaks after they had been pan grilled
• breakfast radishes from Rogowski Farm, roasted on a small Pampered Chef pan with branches of thyme from Eckerton Hill
• garlic scapes from John D. Madura Farm, tossed in olive oil, salt, and pepper, then pan grilled
• the cheese was ‘Pearl’, from Seal Cove Farm (a pasteurized goat and cows’ milk cheese from Lamoine, Maine), Maine, served with toasts of a sourdough bâtard from She Wolf Bakery at the Greenmarket
• the wine was a California red, Jacqueline Bahue Cabernet Franc, Lodi 2013

This was a very simple, very easily, very fresh summer pasta dish, which, because the spaghettini required so little cooking and the sauce almost none, barely heated up the kitchen.

• ten ounces of the truly excellent pasta, Setaro Torre Annunziata (Napoli) spaghettini, from Buon Italia, cooked al dente, then tossed with a sauce made of sliced fresh garlic from Lucky Dog Organic almost browned in olive oil, yellow and green snow peas from Norwich Meadows Farm, barely cooked in the oil, four sliced Maine cherry ‘cocktail’ tomatoes from Whole Foods added after the pot had been removed from the heat, then freshly-ground black pepper and chopped lovage from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm added to the mixture before the pasta was added and tossed with the sauce
• the wine was an Italian white, La Cala Vermentino di Sardegna 2013
• the music was Mozart piano concerti Nos. 12 and 26, Ronald Brautigam and die Kölner Akademie performing

 

Note to self:  Yes, and very yes.  I don’t know of any reason why this simple entrée should have turned out better than anythings scallop-related I’d prepared in the past, but it did.  And the cauliflower/tomato/fennel dish was just as tasty as the shellfish.

 

I had bought scallops earlier in the day at the greenmarket, largely because we werenfresh garlic from Lucky Dog Organic ‘t certain how long we might be at Jade Townsend’s Crazy Garage Sale that evening, and scallops take only minutes from start to finish.  It would be accompanied by a small head of golden cauliflower I already had on hand and was keeping an eye on, and I knew I could do all kinds of good things with it that wouldn’t take much longer.

• ten sea scallops from Pura Vida Fisheries, washed, rinsed and dried very thoroughly, then pan grilled, finished with a squeeze of lemon juice, and drizzled with olive oil [the simple procedure is included in Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers’ ‘Italian Easy: Recipes from the London River Cafe‘, possibly the most indispensable volume in my kitchen library, as I have found so many of my favorite, and simplest, recipes there]
• flowerets of a ten-ounce golden cauliflower from Norwich Meadows Farm, sautéed in a pan in which fresh garlic from Lucky Dog Organic, some crushed dried chili peppers and fennel seeds had been heated, the mix then braised for a few minutes along with halved and seeded Maine cherry ‘cocktail’ tomatoes from Whole Foods, finished with fresh basil leaves torn off of a live plant (Full Bloom Market Garden, Whately, Massachusetts), also from Whole Foods [the recipe appears here]
• the wine was a Portuguese white, Vaca das Cordas Vinho Verde 2014
• the music, in addition to works by other composers broadcast on Counterstream Radio that evening, was Frank Zappa, ‘Times Beach III’, from the 1993 album, ‘Yellow Shark’

Both courses were pretty Italian.

 

I often regret that not enough tentacles were included in the bag of cleaned squid I purchase, but this time the balance was totally reversed. I went home with all but the last half pound of the fishmonger’s squid at the Greenmarket on Monday, which may explain both the proportion of tentacles and the diminutive size of both tentacles and bodies.  I called it a win, since tentacles add a welcome texture to the mix, and the smaller-size squid bodies themselves have a more delicate texture – and taste – than the larger, and they take almost no time to cook on a grill pan (a boon on a warm summer evening).

The squid was delicious; I think the unusual lemon and the fresh garlic I had on hand had much to do with it.

It was accompanied by a couple handfuls of an Italian green, minutina, which is just beginning to be appreciated in the U.S.

• tiny squid bodies and tentacles from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, marinated for about half an hour in lemon zest and lemon juice of a slightly sweet, organic lemon from Trader Joe’s, thinly-sliced fresh garlic from the Greenmarket, olive oil, dried Italian oregano, salt, and pepper, then removed from the marinade and pan-grilled briefly over high heat, removed and put on plates, sprinkled with juice from the same lemon used in the marinade and some chopped parsley from Stokes Farm  [a recipe for the squid, with specific instructions appears here]
• minutina from Norwich Meadows Farm, very cautiously not-quite-wilted in a bit of oil where a clove of the same fresh head of garlic had been heated but not yet begun to brown, the greens seasoned with salt and pepper and some good olive oil
• the wine was an Italian [Sicilian] white, Regaleali Bianco 2013
• the music was a glorious performance of a glorious piece, Haydn’s Piano Trio No. 16 [16 piano trios!], with Emil Gilels, Leonid Kogan, Mstislav Rostropovich

 

And then there was the dessert.

Not Italian?  The utensils.  And yes, that really is a (modern) black ‘Fiesta’ bowl; also, a (much older) ‘German silver‘ spoon.

 

Dessert doesn’t often get a chance to for an appearance on our table, but I try to keep it interesting when it does, and, if possible, relate it to the entrée.  In this case I stayed with the Italian theme in at least four of the five elements of the sweet:  Blueberries probably didn’t get to Italy from North America until the mid-century, but the gelato, the natural brown sugar, the syrup, and the cookie are definitely Italian in spirit, if not in manufacturing origin.

I apologize for the fact that the contents of the bowl in the image above are a little disarranged;  I had already had eaten a spoonful of the dessert before Barry asked if I didn’t want to take a picture.

• blueberries with a dollop of Madagascar Vanilla Ciao Bello gelato, and a sauce composed of a few of the berries which had been macerated a bit with Toschi Orzata Orgeat syrup mixed with turbinado sugar, garnished with one subtle Lattemiele Cookie from Trader Joe’s

I love blood sausage, regardless which cultural environment produces it, and the Spanish do as well by it as any other.

The day was warm. To avoid introducing heat into the kitchen and dining area we were thinking of having a simple indoor picnic, but then I remembered that a friend had given us some morcilla a while back and that we hadn’t yet figured out how we were going to enjoy it.  Maybe it wouldn’t rewuire much cooking, and since I was home all afternoon anyway, following the dramatic developments in Greece, for ideas I could do some paper file browsing and an online search.   It turned out that my folders contained absolutely nothing, and neither of my two Iberian cookbooks offered any useful suggestions, other than outlines for preparations far more elaborate than I would want to undertake under any circumstances (one of the reasons I love Italian cookery so much).  Using a search engine however, I managed to assemble some sketches which I was able to put together as a rough outline for an entrée which would incorporate the morcilla.

I ended up with a fairly simple preparation which featured materials I already had on hand.

• three tablespoons of pine nuts allowed to turn golden in a little olive oil, then removed and set aside, some Despaña Brand Morcilla (four links, a total of 8 oz.), the gift of a friend, cut into thick rounds with the skin left on, added to the oil in the pan, along with a few tablespoons of mixed raisins, all stirred and fried for a few minutes, followed by the addition of a few tablespoons of rosé wine (opened the day before and kept in the refrigerator door), which was simmered for about four minutes before the pine nuts were added back to the pan, the whole then spooned over a previously-assembled salad of radicchio from Tamarack Hollow Farm, arugula from Whole Foods, and a mélange of herbs (parsley from Stoke’s Farm. lovage from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, tarragon from Stokes Farm, fennel fronds from Bodhitree Farm, and basil from Keith’s Farm), dressed with a very good olive oil, a Rioja red wine vinegar, salt, and pepper
• tiny baby leeks from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, rolled in olive oil, minced garlic, a bit of red wine vinegar, salt and pepper, then quickly pan-grilled, finished with chopped thyme from Eckerton Hill Farm
• the bread was a whole wheat, ‘Integrale’, from Eataly
• the wine was a Spanish red, Finca Millara Beterna Ribiera Sacra Mencia 2012
• the music was that of Lisa Bielawa

 

The grey sole is a magnificent fish to set on a table, not least for its perfect texture.  The flavor is mild, and when very fresh, ethereally mild. It responds best to the most delicate of treatments.  This recipe, which adds a ‘tomato butter’ to the plate after it has been sautéed, stole none of that delicacy, and, in addition to its gentle tastiness, introduced two additional textures to the dish, that of the virtually-raw, very ripe tomatoes, and the liquidness of the subtly-aromatic sauce.  I had worked with the recipe in the past, but always with substitutions; this was the first time I happened to have the designated tarragon on hand, and it was definitely the best version.

As far as the contorno was concerned, the beet greens were virtually the only vegetable I had in the kitchen that day, and I didn’t want to keep them longer.  I really love beet greens, but I’ve decided their astringency does not make them the best compliment to a delicate fish.

• seven small Long Island grey sole fillets (a total of 13 ounces) from Pura Vida Fisheries, cooked in a pan over medium high heat for a very few minutes, turning once, then placed on plates, a couple of spoons of ‘tomato butter’ [see the next bullet point] placed on top
• tomato butter, made by cooking in butter a tiny amount of shallot from John D. Madura Farm, letting the flavored butter cool slightly before being poured over halved fresh large Maine cherry ‘Cocktail Tomatoes’ from Whole Foods which had earlier been combined with chopped tarragon from Stokes Farm, the butter then seasoned with salt and drops of red wine vinegar
• the wine was a French white, Château Perron Graves 2014
• the music was that of Gaspard Fritz

This approach to an excellent pork chop has almost become formulaic in my kitchen;  it’s the changing details and accompaniments that keep it fresh, as well as the variety of good wines pair well with it.

• two bone-in loin pork chops from Flying Pig Farms, thoroughly dried, seasoned with salt and pepper, seared in a heavy enameled cast-iron pan, half of a small, almost-sweet organic lemon squeezed over them, then left in the pan, roasted in a 400º oven for about 14 minutes (flipped halfway through and the lemon squeezed over them once again), removed from the oven, sprinkled with chopped lovage from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, and the pan juices spooned over the top
• two large-ish Maine cherry, ‘cocktail’ tomatoes from Whole Foods, added to the pan with the chops near the end of their time in the oven, removed, and sprinkled with savory from Berried Treasures
• flat green or Romano beans from Norwich Meadows Farm, par-boiled, drained, dried (shaking over a flame the pan in which they had cooked), reheated in a bit of olive oil, seasoned with salt and pepper
• the wine was a New Zealand white, Whitehaven Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc 2014
• the music was that of George Tsontakis [it was the night before the Greek referendum, and although the composer was born in Queens, we enjoyed the appositeness of a choice which had been entirely unconscious]

It may not have been a typical American Fourth of July breakfast, but what passes for ‘typical’ in America these days?

It was a holiday, and I had some excellent fresh eggs on hand, a small amount of puntarelle left over from an earlier meal (also a bit of the anchovy dressing I had used), half of a small shallot (also remaining from an earlier meal), and part of a loaf of excellent sourdough bread, now two-days old.  I didn’t want to spend too much time putting together the first meal on a day we had decided to revisit the Whitney Museum;  we were also getting pretty hungry, and this improvisation looked like it wouldn’t take much time.

It was very good, and it hadn’t really taken much time at all.

I think what I did may have been my own invention; if I can trust my invented Italian, it would be described as uova fritte con scalogni; puntarelle con acciughe [fried eggs topped with shallots cooked in butter until just tender, served with an Italian chicory dressed with anchovy, garlic, and vinegar].

• the eggs, fried sunny side up, were from Tamarack Hollow Farm, and the shallot, cooked until softened, was from John D. Madura Farm
• the puntarelle was from Paffenroth Gardens, prepared in the Roman manner
• the toast was from a loaf of a sourdough bâtard from She Wolf Bakery, at the Greenmarket
• the music was Joan Tower’s ‘Made in America’, a fantasy on the theme of  ‘America the Beautiful’