The images above show two stages of the vegetable sauté process, and as it was served with the lamb.

Better than ever, thanks to ramp fruit.

The two lamb chops we had last night were the second of two pairs inside a single package I had brought home frozen from the Greenmarket over two weeks back.  I defrosted the first two overnight and prepared them the next day, finishing with a little sliced shallot and some sorrel butter. At the time I thought lamb chops do not come any better, but the treatment I gave the second pair yesterday (again, defrosted overnight) may have excelled them.

The reason lies in one simple ingredient: ramp fruit, my favorite new thing, and one which is making its appearance just when I had decided the spring ramp craze had gotten totally out of hand.

The fruit were displayed on long stems in Franca’s Berried Treasures stall at the Greenmarket this past Friday;  they were new, and I had no idea what they were.  Her hand-lettered sign didn’t help much , since someone on the farm had put the wrong one in the truck that day.  There was still a good chance I was going to take some home, even before Franca said something about ramp buds, or maybe it was ramp capers, adding, when someone else asked what to do with them, that we should think of them as garlic.

I was now sold. totally.

On Tuesday I still had some ‘buds’ remaining from that same bunch (‘bouquet’), even though I had been using some in virtually every meal I’d prepared since.  Last night I snipped off another small amount of fruit from the end of their long dry stems and I did little more than gently heat them in a small tin-lined copper pan (recently acquired from a sidewalk vender, and becoming increasingly indispensable to my kitchen operations.  The tiny fruits gave up a terrific aroma and ended up on top of the pan-grilled chops. The meat had been seasoned with salt and pepper, but I did noting else to it squeeze a bit of lemon and a drizzle some olive oil over it.  It was terrific, the taste of the excellent lamb had grown a little garlicky and subtly floral.

I picked the superb vegetable recipe [from Mark Bittman] that accompanied the lamb as a way to use 12 of the smallest of artichokes which I could fine in the Greenmarket on Monday.  I had selected them from a basket containing both them and some a bit larger, because I had thought a diminutive size would make it unnecessary to perform any serious operations involving pulling off petals, slicing off ends and tops, or removing hairy chokes.

The au naturel route worked for me, but then I’m someone who always eats grape pits, usually skins of all kinds, and occasionally even peanut shells. Barry preferred to remove the outermost leaves before consuming the rest of the artichoke and its companion vegetables, so next time I really should bring home more artichokes, and allow myself a few more minutes of preparation time.

• two thick loin lamb chops from 3-Corner Field Farm, thoroughly dried, cooked on a very hot grill pan for about 4 minutes on each side, seasoned after both had been seared, removed from the pan and each topped with about 8 slightly-crushed ramp fruit from Berried Treasures, the ‘buds’ having been heated earlier in a bit of olive oil, the chops finished with a squeeze of lemon and a drizzle of olive oil
• I followed the vegetable sauté recipe, which appears on the Times site here, pretty closely, using thyme from Keith’s Farm for one of Bittman’s alternatives in its first stage (rosemary being the other), but I substituted tarragon from Stokes Farm for the parsley he specifies for the garnish at the very end (because I love tarragon, and because it seemed Provençal, although mint would also have worked very well);  the walnut-size artichokes were from Norwich Meadows Farm; the garlic was from Phillips Farm; the oil-cured black olives were from Buon Italia; the heirloom tomatoes were from Norwich Meadows Farm; and the tarragon came from Stokes Farm
• the wine was a French red, Château Valcombe Les Hauts de Valcombe Rouge Ventoux 2013
• the music was the magnificent ‘Iphigénie en Tauride‘, by Christoph Willibald Ritter von Gluck, performed [here the full-length recording] by Marc Minkowski and Les Musiciens du Louvre

And, speaking of fruit, we enjoyed a dessert of a fine homemade sorbetto, made by a friend.

• the sorbetto incorporated several varieties of plums, blackberries, lemon, sugar, and gelatin), and after I had placed it on a deep blue saucer and garnished it with spearmint leaves from Eataly, it managed to look more than a little holiday-ish

I’m getting used to incorporating mushrooms into meals, and I no longer fear taking on the responsibility.  I love them, they can alter any dish with a minimum of fuss, are close to foolproof, can often be prepared at least slightly in advance of joining other food ingredients, and most varieties will be easy on your wallet.  With the help of supplies from our local farmers and foragers at the Greenmarket, I’m learning to have fun with them.

The preparation of this meal with cod involved some Golden Oyster mushrooms; it was based, roughly, on a recipe from “I’ll Have Seconds!“.  The most significant change was my introduction of some ramp fruit (the seed blossoms of the woodland ramp) to the olive oil just after it had heated, and just before adding the mushrooms.  Also, and pretty noteworthy, the mushrooms I had weighed less than a fourth of the amount specified in the recipe, but these Goldens still did themselves proud (and the flavor of the cod remained undiminished).

The dish was delicious. I’m certain to revisit the formula, probably using more mushrooms, but next time I’m also going to be more careful about the amount of salt I bring to the dish.  It was only late the next morning that I realized the reason for the saltiness was my reduction of a cup of stock made from an excellent prepared vegetable base, but one which appears not to have been low-sodium (just found out they now have both ‘reduced sodium’ and ‘organic’ versions).  Without intending to, I had boiled it down too far while I had been escaping from a hot kitchen.

That would also explain why the picture at the top of this post shows a bowl with a sauce rather than the broth which appears in the image on Emily’s blog.

The okra can (almost) be spotted inside a black bowl on the upper left.

• the cod came from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, the ramp fruits from Berried treasures, and the Golden Oyster mushrooms from Blue Oyster Cultivation; for the herbs I used a combination of chopped parsley from Lani’s Farm and tarragon from Stokes Farm
• purple okra from Lani’s Farm, sautéed in olive oil with crushed dried chiles in an iron pan over a high flame, then seasoned with salt
• the wine was a California white, Scott McCleod Chardonnay 2014 Russian River Valley Sonoma County
• the music was a number of works being streamed on Q2 Music WQXR

I won’t make extravagant claims about its visual aesthetic, but I will say that this was an incredibly delicious meal, and that was something of a surprise, since while I was preparing it I thought I was merely emptying the ice box and the cupboards prior to our leaving the city for five days.

I’ve already written about both the quality and the elegant utility of these superb crab cakes.

I also always think of these small, lightly-breaded savory patties as a perfect excuse for serving two or three interesting vegetables, and at least as many fresh herbs, especially since they require absolutely no preparation themselves.

• crab cakes from PE & DD Seafood (ingredients: crab, egg, flour, red & green peppers, garlic, salt, pepper, breadcrumbs, mayonnaise, milk, celery, parsley), heated in a heavy iron pan, 3 to 4 minutes to each side, sprinkled with ramp fruit (yup, ramp fruit, or maybe ‘seed pods’, or ‘bud heads’) from Berried Treasures which had been sautéed in the small cast iron pan along with the crab, served on a bed of a fresh tomato sauce composed of a single large golden heirloom tomato from Stokes Farm, chopped and combined with salt, pepper, and basil leaves torn off of a plant (Full Bloom Market Garden, Whately, Ma.) brought home from Whole Foods
• one bunch of agretti (which grows along the sea, and is a great accompaniment for seafood) from Tamarack Hollow Farm, washed, trimmed, the larger stems removed (although, as it happened, not sufficiently, stems, as Barry has observed, being the bones of good vegetables) then boiled for about 15 minutes, drained, set aside, later heated in olive oil and arranged on plates, where it was squeezed with lemon juice and given a drizzle of olive oil
• early red onions from Tamarack Hollow Farm, washed, halved lengthwise, rolled in seasoned olive oil, pan grilled, then dusted with torn tarragon leaves from Stokes Farm
• the wine was an Oregon white, Montinore Estate Willamette Valley Pinot Gris 2014
• the music was  streamed from Q2, and it included works by Donnacha Dennehy, Magnus Lindberg, Peteris Vasks, and Peter Schroeder

I’m surprised:  I never thought the full Italian name for this meal would fit in my subject line.  The dish, ‘calamari in padella con limone e pangrattato’ translates as ‘squid sautéed with lemon and breadcrumbs’ (which would also fit on that line), and all of that fit on the table last night.

Four months ago, after being seduced by the beautiful photograph of the dish placed on the page facing the instructions, I had pulled the recipe out of Jamie Oliver’s ‘Jamie’s Italy‘ (no, Jamie himself wasn’t in the picture).

In its first outing I had added a bed of potatoes under these delicious cephalopods.  This time I skipped the potatoes, and instead of February’s brussels sprouts, the contorno was a small bowl of thin yellow beans [fagioli gialli], also picked up at the Greenmarket yesterday.

• a pangrattato made with crumbs of four-day-old whole wheat bread from Eataly, six unpeeled fairly-fresh garlic cloves from Phillips Farm, and one extremely hot cayenne pepper from Oak Grove Plantation, stirred in a large enameled cast iron pan with olive oil until the crumbs were crisp and golden, removed from and spread onto paper toweling, the pan then wiped with paper towels and baby squid from Blue Moon Fish, dried and seasoned, placed inside and sautéed, along with very thin slices of lemon, over high heat, all turned once, the squid and lemon removed and distributed on plates, the pangrattato scattered on top, everything sprinkled with a mix of chopped parsley from Lani’s Farm and chopped lovage from Keith’s Farm
• thin yellow beans (haricots jaune/fagioli gialli), boiled until softened somewhat, drained, heated in the same pan to dry, set aside, later warmed up in a cast iron pan, along with some ‘rubbed’ ramp blossoms (for a mild, complex, garlic-like effect) from Berried Treasures, seasoned with salt and pepper, sprinkled with fresh oregano from Stokes Farm
• since there were two white peaches left from the night before, there was also dessert, a return of the dish which had ended the previous meal
• the wine was an Argentinian white, Jelu Estate Torrontes 2014, from San Juan
• the music was a number of short pieces streamed from Yle Klassinen

All of these three [very different] courses were entirely vegetarian.

I’d call each of them a succès d’estime (there were only the two of us to bear witness, so I can’t make say there was any more general acclaim).  Most of the credit goes to the freshness and quality of the ingredients, and the simplicity of the treatments.

The frittata involved a little more procedure than the other two courses, which helps to explain how I slipped up at one point, failing to execute one step at the point when it was indicated. I think however that I made a recovery which might have actually improved a recipe with which I was already taking some liberties with its prescribed herbs;.  It certainly made it appear more complex – and more colorful as well:  The instructions were to introduce into the bowl of whipped eggs, just before they were poured into the pan, the portion (half) of the tomatoes which had been chopped and mixed with garlic, but I missed my cue.  I had no choice at that moment but to spread them on top of the large slices of tomato which I had already spread on top of the eggs once they had begun to cook.

Thinking that the hot broiler might do terrible things to the small pieces of tomato and garlic lying on top of the frittata-to-be, I reached for my container of homemade breadcrumbs and sprinkled some on top, just before slipping the pan under the broiler.

It seemed to work, although I’m not sure the breading precaution was at all necessary.

The frittata was incredibly juicy and delicious; I think it might well have been the best one I’ve ever made.

The dessert was determined pretty much by the perfect ripeness of some white peaches (my favorite) which I had kept on the windowsill for two days, and some additional tasty delights I had on hand.  I hadn’t thought of it as quite as Spanish-ish as the rest of the meal, but, looking back at the ingredients, I think I might be allowed to push the attribution

• two handfuls of Shishito peppers from Lani’s Farm, washed, drained, dried, then sautéed over medium high heat in a cast iron pan for a few minutes, stirring, then salted and served on plates
• a tomato and herb frittata, modeled pretty much on this Martha Rose Shulman recipe, incorporating 8 jumbo eggs from Millport Dairy (three of them with double yolks this time!), 3 different colors of large heirloom tomatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, a mix of chopped fresh herbs (tarragon from from Stokes Farm, and thyme and lovage from Keith’s Farm), finishing with an unauthorized sprinkling of the last of the wood sorrel from Bodhitree Farm
• white peaches from Troncillito Farms, sliced into eighths, drizzledwith Toschi Orzata Orgeat syrup, and sprinkled with a bit of turbinado sugar, topped with a dollopof Madagascar Vanilla Ciao Bello gelato, and sprinkled with some ground hazelnuts I keep tightly-sealed in a jar in the freezer
• the wine with the first two courses was a California rosé, F. Stephen Millier Angel’s Reserves Rosé Lodi 2014
• the music was from Counterstream, Gloria Coates, String Quartet No. 3, the first two movements here, the final movement here

Not vegan.  But very good, and the vegetables were much more than just supporting stars.

I had gone to Eataly to pick up a loaf of bread, and some mint.  The night before that, Friday, we had enjoyed fish, and the Saturday night I found myself at Eataly there would be a totally vegetarian pasta on the table.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to pick up fresh seafood for Sunday’s dinner, so I had been thinking of defrosting a small amount of meat, either a duck breast or two lamb chops, for the two of us.  I hadn’t committed myself to either, and I suppose I had left myself open to being distracted by the bounty I knew awaited at our almost embarrassingly-blue-ribbon local Italian food outlet.

I bought some sausage.

Barry had recently mentioned that locally-sourced sausage might be an attractive alternative to our more usual entrées, so when I spotted the little sign inside the meat display case which read, ‘wild boar sausage’, which also included information on its origin, it felt like it was a natural.

My next assignment was to figure how to combine it with the very specific supply of vegetables I had available.  I was still improvising up to the moment I plated the sausage and the vegetables, but I think I did myself proud, and I was surprised that I was able to come up with what seemed like a fairly Italian meal in the end.

• four links (12 ounces) of wild South Texas boar sausage from Toro Ranch, of Broken Bow, Texas, found at Eataly, pan-grilled for about 20-25 minutes
• Black Turtle beans from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, shelled, added to a pot in which sliced shallots from John C. Madura Farms and sliced fresh garlic from Lucky Dog Organic had been sautéed in olive oil for about 3 minutes, water then added to cover, the mix cooked for about 15 minutes, and a generous handful of sage (whole leaves) from Norwich Meadows Farm added to the beans in the now-reduced liquid before the legumes were put on plates, the sausage placed on top and painted with a modified mustard
• the sauce for the rich boar links was thrown together at the last-minute, a mix of roughly equal parts, Edmond Fallot Dijon Mustard, Holly Schmitt’s Homemade Horseradish, and Berkshire Berries’ Horseradish Jelly [the last two found in the Union Square Greenmarket, both within recent weeks]
• baby yellow squash from Berried Treasures, brushed with olive oil, seasoned with salt an pepper, grilled on a large cast iron pan, finished with torn leaves of mint from Eataly, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a California red, F. Stephen Millier Black Label Reserve Petite Sirah Calaveras County 2013
• the music was Francesco Maria Veracini’s, ‘Sonate Accademiche‘

Vegan, by happenstance.  And also very good.

As with most meals, and especially the most simple, it’s absolutely essential to have great ingredients. Here that meant ‘artisanal’ (although, in fact, not made by hand), bronze die pasta from Southern Italy, the kind whose surface looks like it’s been very roughly sanded.   There were also the Japanese eggplant, the best I’ve ever had, and I was introduced to them by Nevia, of Bodhitree Farm.  The garlic was so fresh it was actually somewhat juicy.  Finally, I had forgotten to pick up mint at the Greenmarket, but Eataly’s vegetables are generally pretty super, often pretty local, and one of the best things about that food and restaurant emporium.

The first paragraph below is long, and heavy with my usual running sentence instructions (here, for a change, using two running sentences), but the cooking process is actually pretty simple.

• three medium Japanese eggplant from Bodhitree Farm, hand-sliced to about 1/4 inch in thickness, coated with olive oil and grilled on top of a cast iron, double-burner pan, seasoned with salt and black pepper, cut into smaller portions (I used a good kitchen shears this time), and set aside in a bowl while the rest of the sauce was prepared:  Two sliced fresh garlic cloves from Lucky Dog Organic introduced into a deep enameled pan, cooking them in olive oil over low-to-medium heat until golden, adding some good crushed chile peppers and the bowl of eggplant which had been set aside, mixing everything, still over a flame, checking the seasoning, then 12 ounces from a package of Setaro Penne Rigate from Buon Italia which had been cooked al dente (some of the water reserved near the end) and drained, tossed into the pan, before about a tablespoon of lemon zest and a tablespoon of lemon juice were added, and some of the reserved pasta water as well (enough to keep everything moist), the pasta mix finally removed from the heat and nearly half of a cup of mint from Eataly, torn into pieces, stirred in
• the wine was a white Italian, Le Salse Verdicchio di Matelica 2014
• the music was Giovanni Paisiello’s, ‘Le finte contesse’

I decided to splurge, but I felt it would be okay to do so.   The average cost at the Greenmarket of each portion of fish included in our last two meals had worked out to less than $2.50, so now I would be comfortable about spending almost $10 per portion for a special treat.

And besides, Barry was returning from a campout with his coworkers in the Catskills wilderness that afternoon.

After putting two swordfish steaks (thick, and a little larger than I would normally have picked) into my insulated shoulder bag, along with some ice, the only question was which of the several attractive vegetables I also bought would accompany them.  My considerations were basically, what would be the most compatible, the most colorful, and, to be practical, the least likely to survive well for another day or two.   When I remembered that I had some black olive tapenade on hand, remaining from an earlier meal, I decided to introduce it to the pan-grilled fish, and also I also chose to include some of the tomatoes which had been ripening on the north windowsill for a few days.

Finally, I thought that the minutina I had picked up that day, even if these lacy, toothed greens are actually less delicate than they appear, and might have lasted a few more, would be an excellent foil for everything else.

• two thick swordfish steaks from Pura Vida, rinsed, dried, brushed with olive oil, seasoned with salt and pepper, pan-grilled for about 5 minutes per side, removed to two plates, a bit of lemon squeezed over them, along with a bit of oil, then finished with a tapenade composed of black olives, anchovy, capers, garlic, olive oil, thyme, and ground black pepper
• a primitive salsa of cut cherry tomatoes (fully-ripe Maine ‘cocktail’ tomatoes from Whole Foods, and a smaller number of equally ripe tiny golden tomatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm), tossed with torn leaves of some extraordinarily beautiful tarragon from Stokes Farm, a bit of oil, and a pinch of Malden salt, then left standing for a few minutes while the fish cooked
• minutina from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, drained, then wilted slightly in medium-hot olive oil in which a little sliced fresh garlic from Lucky Dog Organic had started to brown

We enjoyed some half-wild strawberries from Berried Treasures (in the refrigerator since Wednesday, as I had forgotten then until I began preparing the entrée, but still tasting fantastic), with a dollop [I love that word; use it as often as I dare] of Madagascar Vanilla Ciao Bello gelato, topped with a bit of strawberry ‘self sauce’.

It was like a special birthday treat, but without the [short]cake.

• the wine with the entrée was an Italian white, La Cala Vermentino di Sardegna 2013
• the music throughout was Schubert’s ‘Alfonso und Estrella’

Three butterfish, their fins removed in this picture, but still waiting to be cleaned, resting next to the sink on a sheet of parchment.

They were beautiful, and they were delicious, but, note to self: I’m not likely to prepare them again. It’s about those bones.

But now, as I continue working on this post the next afternoon, I’m thinking:  They really were beautiful, and very tasty; maybe if I had a little more patience, and took a little more time with the fillet knife…?

This picture shows what the butterfish looked like when they reached our ancient dining table.

And this one includes, at the lower right of the second basket/tray from the bottom, the one-pound heirloom tomato which became a salsa all by itself.

Barry was going to be in a Catskills wilderness from Wednesday through Friday, ‘camping out’ with his Artsy coworkers.  I would have gone to the Union Square Greenmarket yesterday out of habit alone, but I also still wanted to eat well.  More and more, for us, ‘eating well’ has come to mean seafood, so seafood it would be.  Since I was going to be the only guest at the table, I decided to try to find something I hadn’t cooked before, something with which I might take a chance, exposing only myself to the possibility of failure.

Blue Moon Fish had a few butterfish left when I got there at 11:30, a very few – one more than the two visible, in fact, once Margo had scooped through the ice to find the third.  I had never cooked butterfish, but I was so excited with their simple beauty that I didn’t even think about the fact that they weren’t yet cleaned, and I also had no idea what I was going to do with them.

There was also a certain amount of pride in buying my dinner, 11 ounces of whole fish, for only $2.25 ($3.50/lb) when some popular, premium species might sell for, . . . yup, up to seven times that price.  Then there are those bones.

I cut off their fins (not quite deeply enough, it turned out, in the case of the dorsal and ventral rows), gutted them (I was surprised at how tiny was the pocket occupied by the innards), keeping heads and tails intact with the bodies, washed them and returned them to the refrigerator, to turn to assembling a recipe I might use.

I knew I might spend some time removing the fillets from the bone, so whatever vegetable accompaniment I selected would have to be happy sitting around for a while.  The decision to use a tomato salsa was more or less determined for me by the ripeness of a single large heirloom which had been sitting on our table for a few days.

• three whole butterfish, from Blue Moon Fish, cleaned, brought to room temperature, rinsed, dried, brushed with olive oil, seasoned inside with salt, pepper, and a couple of sprigs of thyme from Keith’s Farm, rolled in homemade breadcrumbs seasoned with salt, pepper, and more thyme now chopped, sautéed over a medium-high flame for a total of 6 minutes in olive oil and butter (turning once) in an enameled cast iron pan, removed, placed on a small, oval, antique ironstone platter, a bit of lemon then squeezed over the top, some clippings of chives from Stokes Farm added, and olive oil drizzled over all
• one large (one pound) ‘grotesque’ heirloom tomato from Norwich Meadows Farm, chopped, placed in a small bowl with two small fresh garlic cloves from Lucky Dog Organic, slightly crushed (and removed later), two tablespoons of olive oil, and a third of a cup of herbs, meaning a mix of most of what I had on hand (other than the thyme or chives), salt, and pepper, then allowed to sit on the counter for about half an hour before being drained and placed in a jolly black Fiesta bowl
• slices of whole wheat (‘Integrale’) bread from Eataly, to absorb the salsa juinces
• the wine was an Italian white,from the Marche, Falerio dei Colli Ascolani 2013, from Saladini Pilastri
• the music was John Adams’s Los Angeles symphony, ‘City Noir’, performed by the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra, David Robertson conducting

Note to self:  The fish was astoundingly good, in both taste and texture, and the vegetables, which actually happened to be what I had on hand, excellent accompaniments.

There really are other fish in the sea. And some of them are scrumptious.

Please do not tell anyone about the ‘sea robin’, or ‘gurnard’, who might not discover this post on their own;  its impecunious devotees might become very angry with me if the news of its virtues were broadcast too widely.  This delicious, yet widely and unfairly disparaged fish, is incredibly tasty, very inexpensive, and, in our experience on this occasion at least, without bones.   Found in abundance in seas from Southern New England and New York to Cape Hatteras, the species is among the least expensive, and apparently least endangered, of any of those harvested from our local waters; I can attest to their numbers anecdotally, having actually gone out into local coastal waters to pull in some cousins of theirs who are generally regarded as a far more desirable catch.

Now I can also attest to their toothsomeness.

The price of Sea Robin reflects its demand (pretty weak) and its supply (a seeming abundance).  $5.45 was enough to bring home the six fillets, which weighed a total of about .82 pounds, an amount which worked out perfectly as portion for two.

I found almost no information on their cooking (even Mark Bittman is silent on this species, in his book and anywhere else on line), but since our Sea Robin is related to the Mediterranean Rascasse, I searched under that name and came up with this recipe, for Rascasse à la tapenade.  Since deciding to use it, I’ve come across a couple more, and I expect to take advantage of my new, small inspirational ‘index card’ recipe bounty following future visits to my local fish mongers.

• six small fillets of sea robin, aka ‘gurnard’, from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, rinsed, pat dry, then placed in a pan of sizzling olive oil and sautéed over medium-high heat for barely 2 minutes on each side, transferred to two plates, a little lemon squeezed on top and a bit of a tapenade sauce* spread over the fillets, which were garnished with fresh basil off of a plant from Full Bloom Market Garden in Whately, Massachusetts, purchased at Whole Foods and currently happy in one of our south windows
• a few purple okra from Lani’s Farm, remaining from the batch we enjoyed yesterday, again sautéed in olive oil with crushed dried chiles in an iron pan over a high flame, seasoned with salt and pepper
• a salad of tiny golden cherry tomatoes from Eckerton Hill Farm and two very ripe Maine cherry ‘cocktail’ tomatoes from Whole Foods, dressed with a good olive oil, salt. pepper, a few drops of balsamic vinegar, and chopped fresh oregano from Lani’s Farm
• the wine was a Spanish white, Naia D.O. Rueda 2014, from Verdejo old vines
• the music was Giovanni Paisiello’s 1782 ‘Il Barbiere di Siviglia‘ (one of the composer’s 94 operas), conducted by Adam Fisher

* see this recipe for details (in which I incorporated Gaeta olives, salted capers, and one salted anchovy, all from Buon Italia, and some chopped fresh thyme from Keith’s Farm)