It was Saint Valentine’s day, so the dinner had to be a little special, and it wouldn’t hurt if it were also a little red-ish (as it turned out, through all 3 courses – and the wine as well).

• seven ounces of Solex Catsmo (Wallkill, Orange County, NY) smoked rainbow trout from Eataly, arranged on the plates with Ronnybrook Farm Dairy crème fraîche mixed with lemon zest, lemon juice, fresh chives from Two Guys from Woodbridge, and dried Sicilian dill from Buon Italia (at least I think that’s the description and the source), accompanied by fresh upland cress, also from Two Guys from Woodbridge, drizzled with a good Campania olive oil (Campania D.O.P. Penisola Sorrentina ‘Syrenum’)
• a crispy ‘Baguette Monge‘ from Eric Kayser, which we tore with our hands, as usual

• eight ounces of fresh lasagna sheets from Luca Donofrio‘s fresh pasta shop inside Eataly, cooked for 3 minutes only inside a large pot of lightly-salted water, the sheets removed and either placed in a large bowl of cold water until needed, at which time they would be drained and dried, or else place on one or more layers of clean towels or parchment paper arranged on a baking sheet (or 2 baking sheets, of necessary), an 8″ x 12″ glazed ceramic baking dish buttered evenly on the bottom and sides, a little of a Bechamel [It. Besciamella] sauce (not too thick) prepared earlier and seasoned with salt, black pepper, and Nigerian cayenne pepper spooned evenly on the bottom, a layer of pasta arranged on top of that, touching all of the sides of the pan, more of the sauce, then, in layers, a portion of 4 ounces of diced local Lioni Latticini mozzarella, from Whole Foods; a portion of 4 ounces of an absolutely delicious Recla Speck Alto Adige IGP, from Bolzano, purchased at Eataly, cut into matchstick pieces; 2 peeled, quartered, cored and thinly-sliced Rushing River Stemilt Red D’Anjou pears from Eataly; then more of the sauce, continuing in the same order until all the ingredients were used up, ending with a layer of pasta, and the last of the Bechamel on top of it, the pan cover with aluminum foil and placed in the oven for about 15 minutes, the foil then removed, the oven turned up a little after a very few more minutes, to make the edges of the pasta crisp, the lasagna removed from the oven when the aromas had become obvious for a couple of minutes, then let rest for 3 or 4 minutes

• a Red Concord cake for 2 (sort of a chocolate dacquoise, with, I think, a mousse, meringue, and a gooey strawberry filling as well) from Breads Bakery on East 16th Street [the picture shows the portion we shared]
• the wine throughout was a special pink French (Champagne) sparkling rosé, A Margaine Champagne Brut Rosé
• the music throughout was a brilliant valentine, Mozart’ ‘Le Nozze Di Figaro’, René Jacobs conducting the Concerto Cologne and the Cologne Collegium Vocale

Yes.

A delicious winter picnic at home, with a very heavy German accent (the picnic, that is).

Unusual for this site, the leading image (here the only one) is of the entire old birch table, rather than just one of the plates: I thought it this view would cover more ground, so to speak.

The breads were nearly as important to the meal as the fish and the meat. The sturdy New York state sourdough combined the attributes of a traditional German bread with varieties introduced more recently into a culture looking for even more diversity in foods already very wholesome.

The pumpernickel however (on the upper right in the picture), with its “characteristic deep brown color, sweet, dark chocolate, coffee flavor, and earthy aroma” [a description found in Wikipedia], and especially when it is in this intense, compact form, is totally German. Its addictive virtues (along with those of all the other varieties of thin, heavy, moist Vollkornbrot), made it one of the first things I fell in love with when I arrived in Hannover in June, 1961; I ate it like candy. I think these pre-packaged treasures, of any grain, are the only commercial breads – and the only sliced breads – I would ever expect to bring home.

• one small (8-ounce) local (Long Island) whole smoked eel [Aal, in German] from P.E. & D.D. Seafood [for a picture, scroll down here], skinned, head removed, boned, and cut into small pieces, combined in a bowl with the zest and juice of one organic lemon and a small handful of scissored fresh chives from Two Guys from Woodbridge, allowed to rest a bit, and then, when ready to serve, sprinkling the eel with salt to taste, then a mix of crème fraîche from Ronnybrook Farm Dairy and a generous amount of grated horseradish root, both from Eataly, swiped across lightly-toasted and fairly thin slices of a sourdough wheat and rye bread with sunflower and flax seeds from Hawthorne Valley Farm, then spooning the eel with lemon and chives on top of the layer of cream
• thin slices of Lachsschinken from Schaller & Weber, twisted on the tines of a fork, arranged on a small glass plate, served with slices of an incredibly rich imported German whole grain pumpernickel (Delba-Backbetrieb)
• a little undressed upland cress, from Two Guys from Woodbridge, to be added to both canapés
• 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, on the eve of Saint Valentine’s day, was Georg Philipp Telemann’s 1726 opera ‘Orpheus’ [full german title: Die wunderbare Beständigkeit der Liebe oder Orpheus (surprisingly for the era, most of the opera is in German, thanks to the guten Bürger of Hamburg, who did not depend on highfalutin princes, for whom it was first produced, in concert form, at the Theater am Gänsemarkt)], this recording by the Academy for Ancient Music Berlin, and the Berlin RIAS Chamber Chorus [interesting note about the piece, from the opera’s Wikipedia entry: “Most of the work is in German but it also contains passages in French and Italian drawn from famous operas by Handel and Jean-Baptiste Lully. The music to these words is Telemann’s own, however. The manuscript score of Orpheus was not rediscovered until the late 20th century.”

I really try to keep our carbon footprint down, but sometimes things conspire against me. This tiny rack of lamb looked pretty sweet in the store, and it was also so, well, ..accessible, when I passed its display the other day. I found it hard to resist, even though I had planned on preparing a pasta Sunday night.

Besides, if I can rationalize going to New Zealand for venison – and I do – why should I have a problem with a tiny rack of lamb? New Zealand knows how to supply both very good venison and very good young lamb, each of which seems beyond the ken of American producers (or American law).

The vegetables however were about as local as they come, the sweet potatoes from Blairstown, New Jersey, and the cabbage from Winfield New York.

• one 18-ounce rack of New Zealand lamb, from Whole Foods, the bones Frenched, brought to room temperature and rubbed with a mixture of chopped garlic from Healthway Farms, chopped rosemary from Whole Foods, sea salt, and freshly-ground black pepper, then allowed to rest for almost an hour before being seared on all sides inside a small oval enameled cast iron pan, placed in a 450º oven for about 15 minutes, or until medium rare, cut into 2 sections and placed on 2 plates, where a little juice from a local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island was squeezed over the top, followed by a drizzle of olive oil
• about a pound of Japanese sweet potatoes from Race Farm, unpeeled, but washed thoroughly, cut on the diagonal into one-half-inch pieces, tossed in a bowl with olive oil, salt, pepper, and 2 large garlic cloves, arranged on a large well-seasoned Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic oven pan, placing the garlic on the top of potato slices, and roasted for about 35 minutes
• one small head of Savoy cabbage from Northshire Farm, washed, quartered, cored, sliced into one-half-inch ribbons, sautéed in a scant tablespoon of olive oil inside a medium heavy, tin-lined copper pot until wilted but still crunchy, stirring occasionally, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, and a little more than a teaspoon of toasted cumin seed mixed in, finished with half a teaspoon of Columela Rioja 30 Year Reserva sherry vinegar, the mix stirred and cooked another couple of minutes
• the wine was a excellent California (Sonoma) red, Ken and Derek Zinfandel Dry Creek Valley Sonoma County 2015, from Naked Wines
• the music was Poul Ruders’ 2004-2005 opera, ‘Kafka’s Trial’, the Royal Danish Orchestra and the Royal Danish Opera Choir conducted by Thomas Søndergård

This would have been a pretty routine Sunday breakfast except for the goose eggs.

Picture below: A young comparison shopper, who then moved on, giving me an opening.

I’ve never tasted a goose egg, so when I spotted [just one] at a stall in the Greenmarket on Saturday, I was happy to learn that the farmer had more. One of them ended up on each of our plates at breakfast the next day, in the space where there would normally have been 3 chicken eggs. That’s a 6-inch teaspoon in the picture below.

The first thing about goose eggs is that they take more than just a gentle tap on the side of the pan to crack open (on my first try I messed up the yoke, and the second, almost).

The second thing about goose eggs is they’re delicious, and not all funky.

• the ingredients for the meal were 2 goose eggs from Quattro’s Game & Poultry Farm, smoked bacon from Flying Pigs Farm, dried golden habanada pepper (from fresh peppers purchased last summer from Norwich Meadows Farm), Tellicherry pepper, Maldon salt, lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge, baby leek from Norwich Meadows Farm, Gotham Greens Rooftop packaged basil and Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods, olive oil, Kerrygold butter, and lightly-toasted sourdough bread (rye flour, sunflower and flax seeds) from Hawthorne Valley
• the music was Haydn’s ‘Stabat Mater’, The English Concert and Choir, directed by  Trevor Pinnock

 

This swordfish dish has become very familiar on this site, except that last night the fresh herb was mint rather than the usual oregano, and the micro ‘greens’ which finished it were chard, which may never have made an appearance here.

The vegetable was almost totally new to our table: Ten months ago I had served Kale sprouts (the proprietary name is ‘Kalettes’©), a hybrid of kale and Brussels sprouts which grows on stalks like Brussels sprouts. Last April I had treated them as I would almost any greens, wilted with garlic in olive oil. This time I popped them in the oven, and, voila! puffs of kale chips!

When they came out of the oven they looked like Brussels sprouts that had exploded, like popcorn. They tasted like their botanical heritage: a mix of Brussels sprouts and kale. The texture was that of kale chips, which is to say, sensational! We ate them with our fingers (they were impossibly delicate).  Addictively crunchy, but, Unlike kale chips, each sprout finished with a little chewy bit in the center.

• one swordfish steak from the Seatuck Fish Company stall in the Union Square Greenmarket, purchased direct from the owner, fisherman Rob Williams, cut into 2 pieces, marinated for about half an hour in a mixture of olive oil, chopped fresh mint from Eataly, a pinch or 2 of golden home-dried habanada pepper (the fresh peppers acquired fresh last season from Norwich meadows Farm) a tiny bit of crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, and a small amount of a thinly-sliced baby leek from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, drained well and covered with a coating of dried homemade bread crumbs, pan-grilled above a fairly high flame for about 3-4 minutes on each side, removed, seasoned with salt and pepper, removed to the plates, scattered with a little of the freshly-cut green part of the leek used in the marinade, sprinkled with a little local lemon juice from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, scattered with some micro chard from Two Guys from Woodbridge, and drizzled with olive oil
• a couple handfuls of kale sprouts, a hybrid of kale and brussels sprouts, from Northshire Farm, stems trimmed, the sprouts washed, dried as well as was convenient, tossed in a bowl with a bit of olive oil (little more than a tablespoon), some Maldon salt, and a bit of freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, spread onto a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, baked for 10 or 15  minutes at 450º to 475º, or until the aromas arising suggested they were done
• the wine was a Spanish (Rueda) white, Naia D.O. Rueda 2014, from Verdejo old vines
• the music was Philip Glass’s 3rd and 5th string quartets, performed by the Smith String Quartet

It was a snow day. It felt like a holiday. It was also pretty cold outside (and we still haven’t turned on the heat inside), so a warm kitchen felt right. I had all the makings for a traditional German entrée inside the apartment, and we also had some terrific beer.

We had a terrific, traditional German dinner. Also, nearly everything in it came from farms in the area (our area, not Germany, which somehow makes it even more special).

We usually drink wine with our meals at home, partly because we both much prefer draught beer to bottled, but two of the beers we spotted at Schaller & Weber last week were very special to us: These Rauchbiere are from the area of Northern Bavaria from which my mother’s family emigrated to Wisconsin almost 175 years ago. In addition, both unusual and quite rare, we had thoroughly enjoyed them at Schankerla, the beautiful Brauereiausschank of the brewery itself, 5 years ago, with Barry’s mother, and we had never forgotten those pleasures. With some of the entrées however, we also had enjoyed good Franken wine, in a Bocksbeutel.

Smoked bier is not a gimmick, but an ancient tradition which continues today, and from our own experience alone, with good reason. Five years ago Barry described his first taste, “Nice and smoky like bacon in a glass.”

My maternal great-great-grandparents, who were from Franconia, but not Bamberg itself, may never have had Rauchbier. If they had, they might never have left.

• one 16-ounce glass jar of sauerkraut (simply cabbage and salt) from Millport Dairy Farm, drained and very well-rinsed in several changes of cold water, drained again and placed in a large enameled cast iron pot with one chopped onion from Tamarack Hollow Farm, one chopped parsley root (in lieu of the more traditional carrot) from Norwich Meadow Farm, half a dozen whole allspice berries and an equal number of Tellicherry peppercorns, a little salt, 2 Sicilian bay leaves from Buon Italia, about 8 ounces of beer (a bottle of Peroni, which had already been opened and kept in the refrigerator, some of it having been used in an earlier meal), a little water as needed, and a tablespoon of olive oil, all brought to a boil and then simmered over a low flame, stirring occasionally, for about half an hour, covered, and then uncovered for 20 or 30 minutes more before two 9-ounce smoked pork chops from Schaller & Weber, having first been briefly seared on both sides inside a dry cast iron pan, were buried in the sauerkraut, heated for about 20 minutes, the chops and sauerkraut arranged on 2 plates and sprinkled with chopped fresh parsley from Eataly
• a small pot of some pretty good ‘Organic German Mustard’ from Whole Foods served on the side
• two Dark Red Norland potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, scrubbed, boiled unpeeled in heavily-salted water until barely cooked through, drained, halved, dried in the still-warm vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot in which they had cooked, a couple tablespoons of rich Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter [with 12 grams of fat per 14 grams, or each tablespoon of butter; American butter almost always has only 11 grams, which makes a surprising difference in taste and texture], the Saltzkartoffeln arranged on the plates with the chops and the sauerkraut, and sprinkled with homemade breadcrumbs which had first been browned in a little butter
• the beer was from Germany (Franconia), two different versions of a very special Bamberg Rauchbier (smoked bier), Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier Märzen, and Aecht Schlenkerla Eiche Dopper Bock, from Schlenkerla, in Bamberg, both purchased at Schaller & Weber here on 2nd Avenue
• the music was, no surprise, Georg Solti’s 1959 recording of Wagner’s 1854 opera, ‘Das Rheingold’, with the Vienna Philharmonic

I have no idea how professional chefs manage to reproduce the same dishes over and over again; I’ve used this same tuna recipe more often than I can count, and it turns out at least a little different each time, even without half trying.

But then, reproducing the same dinner happens to be exactly what I’m never trying to do at home.

As for an accompaniment to the tuna, I had realized early on that I didn’t really have enough collard greens left from a bunch whose largest portion had been put into service for a previous meal, so I decided to add a second vegetable, some radishes I had almost forgotten were in the crisper, and to add their greens to the collards, or at least those that had still retained their freshness.

The fruits of this improvisation – and good home economy – were delicious, and colorful as well.

• one 12-ounce tuna steak from American Seafood Company in the Union Square Greenmarket (caught on Scott Rucky’s fishing vessel, ‘Dakota’), cut into 2 triangular pieces, tops and bottoms rubbed with a mixture of a tablespoon or so of dry Sicilian fennel seed from Buon Italia and a little crushed dried Itria-Sirissi chili (peperoncino di Sardegna intero), also from Buon Italia, the two having been ground together with mortar and pestle, the surfaces also seasoned with salt and freshly-ground pepper, before they were pan-grilled for only a little more than a minute or so on each side and finished with both a good squeeze of the juice of some tiny local lemons from Fantastic Gardens of New Jersey and a drizzle of olive oil
• a small bunch of ‘French breakfast’ radishes from Eckerton Hill Farm, cleaned and scrubbed, some of the stem retained, sautéed over medium-high heat in a little olive oil inside a heavy tin-lined copper skillet until they had begun to soften and color, seasoned with salt and pepper, sprinkled with fresh lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• a modest amount of tender collard greens from Phillips Farm, stripped of most of their stems, torn into small sections, washed several times and drained, transferred to a smaller bowl very quickly, in order to retain as much of the water clinging to them as possible, braised inside a heavy oval enameled cast iron pot in which one large quartered clove of garlic from Tamarack Hollow Farm had first been allowed to sweat in some olive oil, the collards joined halfway through by some of the greens of the radish roots, adding a little of the reserved water along the way as necessary, finished with salt, pepper, a little of the same crushed dried Sardinian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a Spanish (Galicia) white, Martin Codax Rias Baixas Albarino Burgans 2015, from Philippe Wines
• the music was Roger Reynolds, the pretty awesome, ‘Odyssey’ (1989-92, for 2 singers, ensemble, and computer sound), from ‘The Paris Pieces’

Yeah, pretty snazzy, yet still down to earth, I’d say.

I couldn’t resist these little ones.  We love quail itself, but, while I’ve had many opportunities to bring home quail eggs, there was never the kind of imperative I felt looking at the beautiful clear plastic (yeah, well..) package of 15 while at the Union Square Greenmarket on Saturday:  They were local and they were organic-fed. That, and the opportunity of preparing something I hadn’t before was more than good enough for me this time.

But I had no idea what I was going to do with them.

My assumption was that they would a part of a first course, the second being a simple good pasta. Last night I put those two concepts together: The appetizer became a dish of fried quail eggs on toast and the main course a beet pasta with a browned-butter sage sauce which I embroidered only slightly.

• eight quail eggs from Violet Hill Farm, fried in a heavy tin-lined copper skillet, seasoned with Maldon salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, sprinkled with organic Sicilian dried wild fennel flowers from Buon Italia, slid onto 8 slices, cut on the diagonal, of a really wonderful, sturdy ‘baguette sarasin’ (buckwheat flour bread) from Eric Kayser, which were toasted on top of the stove, then served with a little upland cress from Two Guys from Woodbridge, the little greens drizzled with a bit of very good Campania olive oil, from the Sannio region, and seasoned with salt and pepper
• eight ounces of Sfoglini beet fusilli with a brown butter sage sauce composed of 2 tablespoons of ‘Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter‘ melted in a heavy, high-sided tin-lined copper sauté pan and heated until golden brown, after which a number of sage leaves from Keith’s Farm were tossed in and stirred with the butter, the pan was removed from the heat and juice from almost half of a local lemon (Fantastic Gardens of Long Island) added, the sauce set aside until the pasta had been cooked and drained (some of the pasta water retained), when it was added to the brown butter, heated gently and stirred, a good part of a cup of the reserved pasta liquid added, 2 or 3 tablespoons of grated Parmigiano-Reggiano Vache Rosse from Eataly tossed in and mixed with the pasta, which was then divided into 2 shallow bowls and scattered with a small handful of toasted pine nuts from Whole Foods Market
• the wine was a California (Lodi) white, Karen Birmingham Sauvignon Blanc Lodi 2015
• the music was Jordi Savall’s album, ‘Music for the Spanish Kings’ (of the 15th century), with his ensemble, Hespèrion XX

The gray sole, whose name is almost always spelled elsewhere in the English-speaking world, ‘grey sole’, is a beautiful fish, delicate and mild in flavor.  “It’s barely even fish” is a description I just came across on a site advising people new to cooking or eating fish. It also had a very gentle, I’ll even say ‘perfect’, texture (something to which even the finest Schnitzel could never aspire).

I forgot to add that it’s delicious.  It doesn’t taste like chicken, but, like chicken, it may seem to be asking to be loaded down with additional flavor ingredients. I’m usually careful to avoid the temptation.

I try not to disguise any of the virtues I’ve described above, and last night I introduced almost nothing between the fish, simply seasoned and fried in butter and olive oil, and our taste buds, making sure that in the placement of the ‘tomato butter’, so perfect a compliment, it would remain just that, and would not smother the fillets, physically or tastewise.

I had picked up barely two-thirds of a pound of fish that morning, but I wasn’t worried that the entrée would be too small for us: I wanted to be sure we would be interested in a second course, one which would include a new local cheese I had been looking forward to checking out.

On the other hand, the little bit of Tuscan kale (aka cavalo nero, lacinato, or black kale) with which I had decided to accompany the sole seemed to grow smaller and smaller as the cooking process advanced; I ended up slicing some excellent hearty bread, with the excuse that something would be needed to soak up the juices.

• Four small Gray sole fillets, roughly 2-and-a-half-ounces each, from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, cooked in a heavy tin-lined copper pan over medium-to-high heat for little more than a minute, turning, and cooking for another minute, or until done, placed on warm plates, some ‘tomato butter’ arranged on each plate between the fillets [the butter had been composed a few minutes earlier by melting some ‘Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter‘, then adding half of one small shallot from Norwich Meadows Farm, finely diced, cooking the onion until softened and fragrant, removing the shallot butter from the heat, allowing it to cool for 2 or 3 minutes, then tossing it with 5 Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods, each cut into 6 wedges (the tomatoes, minutes before, tossed with almost a teaspoon of torn Gotham Greens Rooftop packaged basil from Whole Foods), stirred gently, seasoned with salt, with a few drops of red wine (Chianti) vinegar stirred into the mix at the end]
• one small bunch of cavalo nero from Eckerton Hill Farm, wilted briefly in olive oil in which one clove or garlic from Tamarack Hollow Farm had first been heated, seasoned with salt and pepper, drizzled with a little more oil

The course that followed included more of the same bread, which turned out to be a great foil for a fantastic cheese, and also a perfect spreading platform.

The picture immediately below is of an 18-ounce small wheel (I took home about half of it).

This is a glimpse of the cut side, on the counter at home, a section of cheese already having been removed and served.

• wedges of Consider Bardwell Farm‘s very exciting new, “bloomy rind pasteurized cow cheese wrapped in spruce bark and aged in Brooklyn”, Peter’s description of Peter, while he was giving me a taste (the cheese has not yet been named), served with slices of ‘8 Grain 3 Seed’ bread from Rock Hill Bakery

 

• the wine throughout was a French (Burgundy) white, Domaine Dupré Chardonnay Bourgogne 2014, from Chelsea Wine Vault
• the music was Antonio Vivaldi, ‘Six Concertos for the Emperor’ [Charles VI], performed by Andrew Manze and the English Concert

Like all non-farmed fish, it’s essentially ‘game’, but unlike almost any other fish, it’s actually not ‘fishy’ at all.

We love eel, fresh or smoked. We are therefore always very grateful to the folks who are willing to go through the, literally, heroics of cleaning these magnificent creatures. With smoked eel however, the worst of the process, removing the very slippery skin, can be skipped, the consumers themselves inheriting the responsibility, made much easier after its surfaces have been tamed in the smoke oven.

The image below is of a single one-pound smoked eastern Long Island eel, displaying a beautiful green/gold sheen on our kitchen counter, after it had been removed from the vacuum packaging where it had lain, cut crosswise for convenience.

• two large cloves of garlic from Tamarack Hollow Farm, sliced thinly, heated in a deep enameled cast iron pan over medium-high flame, along with one dried whole hot pepper, peperoncino Calabresi secchi, from Buon Italia, and a bit of crushed, dark, home-dried heatless Habanada pepper (acquired fresh from Norwich Meadows Farm last summer), until the garlic was almost starting to color, pieces of one skinned and boned smoked local eel from P.E. & D.D. Seafood added and stirred until warmed through, half of the amount of savory pangrattato* which had been prepared earlier mixed in and combined, the cooked and drained pasta (18 ounces of Afeltra Spaghetto from Eataly), added to the pan, tossed with the eel and pangrattato and stirred over low heat for a couple of minutes, adding more than a cup of the reserved pasta water while doing so to keep the mix moist, which was then served in low bowls, where it was sprinkled with more pangrattato and finished with most of one sliced spring onion from Norwich Meadows Farm

*The pangrattato was prepared by adding about a third of a cup of homemade breadcrumbs   to about a fourth of a cup of olive oil in which more thinly-sliced Tamarack Hollow garlic cloves and 3 anchovies from Buon Italia had been heated for a short while, and, after being stirred for 4 or 5 minutes, the mixture was then drained on paper toweling and brought to room temperature

• the wine was an Italian (Marche) white, Fattoria Laila Verdicchio dei Castelli di Jesi Classico Superiore 2015
• the music was the second half of the 1975 Philip Glass/Robert Wilson opera, ‘Einstein On The Beach’, in a new recording with Michael Riesman conducting the Philip Glass Ensemble, the complete list of performers included on the ArkivMusic page