mid-afternoon breakfast

(we had enjoyed a late supper)

Of course it was effectively lunch, even if it was the meal to break our fast.

The ingredients were eggs from Millport Dairy Farm; smoked bacon from Flying Pigs Farm; Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods; Gotham Greens Rooftop packaged basil from Whole Foods; scallions from Norwich Meadows Farm; micro snow pea shoots from Windfall Farms; very-lightly-toasted ‘8 Grain 3 Seed’ bread from Rock Hill Bakehouse in Gansevoort, NY; oregano from Stokes Farm; crushed, dark, home-dried heatless Habanada pepper, acquired fresh from Norwich Meadows Farm last summer; Maldon Salt and Tellicherry pepper, both from Whole Foods

baked cod and potatoes, pea sprouts; collards, garlic, chili

At this point, having already done this basic preparation a number of times, using several kinds of fish, I don’t feel I can write anything that the picture above can’t convey pretty well on its own.

The only thing slightly out of the ordinary about the preparation was that I used 2 different potato varieties, but that was only because I didn’t have enough of the one I had wanted to use because it had been around for a while and was beginning to sprout.

The Carola, in the Greenmarket, when first purchased, 3 weeks ago:

The Dark Red Norland, in the Greenmarket yesterday:

  • two 9-ounce cod fillets from Seatuck Fish Company in the Union Square Greenmarket, prepared more or less from a recipe from Mark Bittman which I originally came across almost 12 years ago: the cod washed and rinsed, placed in a platter on a bed of coarse sea salt, more added on top, until they were completely covered, set aside while preparing a bed of potatoes for them by slicing to a thickness of less than 1/4 inch, about 14 ounces of 2 kinds of potatoes, scrubbed but unpeeled, one Dark Norland Red from Norwich Meadows Farm and 2 Carola from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, tossing them in a large bowl with olive oil, salt, pepper, and a large pinch of golden home-dried Habanada pepper [acquired fresh last fall from Norwich Meadows Farm], arranging the potatoes, overlapping, in a rectangular glazed ceramic oven pan, cooking them for 20 or 25 minutes in a 400º oven, or until they were tender when pierced, meanwhile, before the potatoes had fully cooked, the cod thoroughly immersed in many changes of water in order to bring down the saltiness (incidentally the soaking process somehow gives the fish more solidity, which can be easily felt while handling it at this point), draining and drying the two pieces before placing them inside the pan on top of the potatoes, drizzling them with a little olive oil and scattering some freshly-ground pepper over them, returning the pan to the oven for 8 to 12 minutes (the time would depend on the thickness of the cod), removing the fish with a spatula (or, much better, 2 spatulas) along with as much of the potatoes as can be brought with each piece, and arranging everything, intact if possible, onto 2 plates, returning to the pan for the remainder of the potatoes, snow pea sprouts from Windfall Farms scattered over the top

 

Its now early February, but I may have more green vegetables in the refrigerator crisper than I can properly handle (aside from herbs and micro greens, there’s Cavalo Nero, Savoy cabbage, radish greens, Japanese scallions, a little leek, a little celery, and collard greens). Last night I used most of a bunch of the beautiful collards I had picked up on Monday.

lemon-roasted pork chops; pea shoots; radish/parsley root

I really think the approach I used here, and have used many times before, is the best way to treat a good pork chop – or two – and, as with the best recipes, its simplicity makes it possible to invent any number of variations.

Last night however there were no twists, not even a last-minute fresh herb, really (this time I saved my futzing for the vegetables).

  • two 8-ounce bone-in loin pork chops from Flying Pig Farm, thoroughly dried, seasoned with salt and pepper and seared quickly in a heavy enameled cast-iron pan before half of a local sweet lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island was squeezed over the top (which was then left in the pan between them, cut side down), the chops placed in a 425º oven for about 14 minutes (flipped halfway through, the lemon squeezed over them once again and replaced), removed from the oven and place on plates, the small amount (this time) of juices left in the pan spooned over them
  • micro snow pea shoots from Windfall Farms arranged to the side

I had picked up a small bundle of ‘French breakfast radishes’ two days before Friday’s dinner, when I decided to serve their greens, wilted, while they were still fresh. Because I love sautéed or roasted radishes, of any kind, I didn’t look any further for a vegetable to accompany the pork. Once I had pulled the roots and greens from the crisper however I realized there wasn’t really much of either, so I added a small parsley root and a few scallions to the mix.

  • one small parsley root [petroselinum crispum tuberosum] from Norwich Meadow Farm, scrubbed, trimmed, and diced, sautéed in a little more than a total of a tablespoon of olive oil and butter inside a large enameled cast iron pot until almost softened, then 2 garlic cloves, halved, from Tamarack Hollow Farm and a small bunch of ‘French breakfast’ radishes from Eckerton Hill Farm, cleaned and scrubbed, added to the pot and cooked until they had softened, but just before that time 3 thin scallions from Norwich Meadows Farm, sliced, added to the mix, followed by the washed radish greens, the vegetables seasoned with salt and pepper, and a little Washington State riesling added and stirred in for a minute or two before being served
  • the wine was a Spanish (Rioja) white, Real Rubio Blanco, Rioja 2014
  • the music was the fantastic album, ‘Gisela May: Brecht Songs by Hanns Eisler and Paul Dessau

bass, oyster mushroom, parsley; purple potato; pea shoots

This was an wonderful dinner, largely because of my muse.

Otherwise, while physically it seemed to me to come out of nowhere, in fact virtually every bit of this meal had come from the Union Square Greenmarket, which means our local farmers and fishers.

Of course t hadn’t arrived on the table full-blown, but 2 or 3 hours before we sat down I still barely knew the half of what it would be. It had all started at the Greenmarket, with a beautiful bass fillet, one of only 2 remaining in the fishmonger’s stall at 1:45 that afternoon; minutes later I spotted our Wednesday mushroom farmer, where one sign jumped out at me: ‘oyster mushrooms’ (apposite for this seafood moment); then, once home and looking through my digital grocery inventory for a vegetable to accompany the mushroom-dressed fish, I read ‘Magic Molly purple potatoes’ and knew I had found it. With the addition of a micro green for color, texture, freshness, and even a little spice, the meal had at least been assembled in my mind.

  • one Black sea bass (just under 12 ounces) from American Seafood Company, washed, dried, seasoned on both sides with salt and pepper, sautéed 2-3 minutes over a fairly brisk flame with butter and a little olive oil inside a large, thick oval copper pan, skin side down, then turned and the other side cooked for about the same length of time, removed to 2 warm plates when done and covered at least a little, 2 tablespoons of butter added to the pan, and 6 ounces of oyster mushrooms [pleurotus ostreatus] from Bulich Mushroom Company, cut into large-ish pieces (in this case, mostly just detaching the lobes), sautéed, stirring, until lightly cooked, the mushrooms seasoned with salt, pepper, a couple tablespoons of chopped parsley from Eataly, and a tablespoon and a half of the juice of a sweet local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island added, the mushrooms stirred some more before they and the juices were spooned onto and at the side of the fish (I generally think the skin of the bass is too beautiful to disguise entirely)

The potatoes were extraordinary (the almost-black color remained true throughout the cooking, the taste was wonderful, the texture waxy, moist, and succulent).

peppered venison, brandy; roasted turnips; red cabbage

This was at least the third dinner of venison we’ve enjoyed this winter, and preparing it this time was even easier than usual because of some leftovers and a very easy-going root vegetable purchased in the Greenmarket over a month before.

  • eight ounces of a D’Artagnan New Zealand venison ‘shortloin’, from Frank at O. Ottomanelli & Sons, that had been cut from the larger piece which we had enjoyed one month before, dried, rubbed with olive oil and a very generous coating of freshly-cracked black peppercorns, set aside for more than half an hour, after which it was placed over moderately high heat in 1 to 2 tablespoons of a combination of butter and olive oil inside an oval 11-inch enameled cast iron pan, cooked barely medium rare, which meant about 2 minutes on one side, or until juices had begun accumulating on the top, turned and cooked for another 2 minutes, cut into 2 pieces and transferred to warm plates, the bottom of the pan scraped with a wooden spatula to collect the juices, 2 tablespoons of brandy (Courvoisier V.O., as it happened) added to the pan and cooked over high heat until very much reduced [this time almost immediately!] before the sauce was poured over the meat, which was then garnished with chopped parsley from Eataly
  • seven purple-topped turnips from Alewife Farm, washed, scrubbed, peeled, cut into half-inch-thick slices, tossed with olive oil, salt, pepper, and rosemary leaves from Hoeffner Farms, roasted in a large unglazed Pampered Chef ceramic pan for about 30 minutes at 425º, or until tender and beginning to carbonize, one green section of a baby leek from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, sliced in half-inch segments, added half-way through, and, once removed from the oven, the sprouting light ‘greens’ that had been trimmed from the roots, slightly wilted, added to the vegetables, which were then arranged on plates, some Hong Vit micro radish sprinkled on top
  • red cabbage, remaining from an earlier, even richer meal, reheated
  • the wine was an Austrian (Burgenland) red, Zweigelt, Rosi Schuster 2013 (St.Laurent and Blaufrankisch grapes), from Astor Wines
  • the music was that of Philip Glass, his 1983 opera, ‘Akhnaten’* Dennis Russell Davies conducting the Stuttgart State Opera Orchestra and the Stuttgart State Opera Chorus, with Milagro Vargas, Melinda Liebermann, Tero Hannula, Helmut Holzapfel , Cornelius Hauptmann, Victoria Schneider, Lynne Wilhelm-Königer, Maria Koupilová-Ticha, Paul Esswood, Geraldine Rose, Angelika Schwarz, David Warrilow, and Christina Wächtler

* I find ‘Akhnaten’ profoundly moving, although most critics have thought it less successful than the rest of the Glass trilogy. I think my relationship to it is independent of my experience and impressions in a trip I made to Egypt 30 years ago. I never visited el-Amarna, but I did trek through the Valley of Kings, and there I picked up several of the ordinary golden stones which compose the dry landscape. The picture below is of one of them, perhaps a piece of marl or marlstone; I found it on the trail which leads down the mountain to the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut. It has acquired a patina from handling it on the table where I spend much of my time, and today, if only because of its origin, it looks to me very much like a large scarab, although somewhat abstracted.

‘gilded’ flounder; roasted golden beets, Brussels sprouts

Golden were the fish and the beets both, but the leeks, micro greens, and Brussels sprouts, also a part of this meal, might better represent the gold of the sun, barely visible in late January (fairly or not, we associate that orb with the green above ground more than the roots below). The date was January 30.

I love this simple recipe, suitable for almost any white fish fillets. I had originally heard about it from the late Kyle Phillips, on the site he had edited, Italian Food on about.com. I have never moved through it the same way twice.

  • two flounder fillets (5 ounces each) from P.E. & D. D. Seafood, seasoned with salt and pepper on both sides, coated lightly with well-seasoned North Country Farms Stone Ground Whole Wheat Flour, then submerged in a shallow bowl containing a mixture of one egg from Millport Dairy, a little whole milk, and a pinch of salt, allowed to stay submerged until the vegetables had been cooked and the remaining ingredients for the fish prepared, then removed from the bowl, placed inside a heavy ton-lined oval copper pan with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, fried over a brisk flame until golden, barely two minutes for each side, the fillets removed, arranged on warm plates, the heat under the pan turned lower, 3 tablespoons of butter added with 2 sliced scallions from Norwich Meadows Farm, a little golden home-dried habanada pepper (acquired fresh last season from Norwich meadows Farm), salt, and pepper, allowed to cook together, stirring, without browning the butter, for about one minute, then more than a tablespoon of lemon juice introduced into the pan and quickly stirred, the sauce which was produced now poured over the plated fillets, some micro Hong Vit radish scattered next to them

The vegetable accompaniment was a concoction triggered by what I had in the crisper.

  • golden (or red) beets from Norwich Meadows Farm, scrubbed, peeled, tossed in a little olive oil, salt, and pepper, placed inside a large seasoned Pampered Chef pan and baked at 450º for about 25 minutes, or until softened and only beginning to brown, adding, part of the way through, some very small Brussels sprouts taken from 2 stalks of the little cabbages, also from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, trimmed, and also tossed with olive oil, salt, and pepper

  • the wine was a California (Sonoma) white, Scott Peterson Rumpus Chardonnay 2014, from Naked Wines
  • the music was Haydn’s 1782 opera, ‘Orlando Paladino’, Antal Doráti conducting the 
    Lausanne Chamber Orchestra, with Elly Ameling, Gwendolyn Killebrew, George Shirley, Claes H. Ahnsjö, Benjamin Luxon, Domenico Trimarchi, Maurizio Mazzieri, Gabor Carelli, and Arleen Augér

sea perch and anchovy sauce; carrots with thyme, oregano

It’s a beautiful fish, with a delicate red skin, although the color mostly disappears with cooking.

New York venders (and restaurants?) sometimes call it ‘redfish’, but usually it’s ‘sea perch’ or ‘ocean perch’, even if it bears little resemblance to the fresh water perch I grew up with around the Great Lakes.  The brilliant color of its scales and its skin would be enough evidence of the distinction, but I have to admit, even at this gap in time and distance from 1940s-50s Michigan and Wisconsin, there may be something to be said about the similarities in taste.

The French know it as Rascasse, but there’s some confusion with names on the other side of the Atlantic because it apparently belongs to the family, ‘scorpaenidae‘, which also includes the scorpionfish.

This looks like the best answer to the question, ‘what is it?’

 

  • four fillets of red sea perch (19 ounces) from Pura Vida Seafood, brushed with olive oil and one chopped garlic clove from Tamarack Hollow Farm, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground pepper, then broiled, 4 inches from the flames, for about 4 minutes until the skin was crisp and the fish cooked through, sauced with a bit of olive oil in which 3 salted anchovies from Buon Italia, rinsed and filleted, had been heated over a very low flame for about 5 minutes until they had fallen apart (the sauce having been kept warm while waiting for the fish to cook), the fillets finished on the plates with chopped parsley from Eataly

I had collected two kinds of beautiful small carrots in recent visits to the Greenmarket, and last night I decided it was time to enjoy them both.

steak, gorgonzola butter, micro radish; fingerlings, herbs

While there was both a primo and a secondo, it was still a very low-stress meal to prepare, probably helping to explain why it turned out so totally delicious.

 

The first course was very simple.

The main course may have been considerably more rich, but it was on an almost equally modest scale in volume, and also arguably far less complicated in its makeup.

I can’t resist a carbon footprint note: Virtually everything in this meal was grown locally.

Roasting Rick Bishop’s wonderful ruby crescents was a lot easier – and the end result a lot healthier – than making homemade fries, as in the ‘steak and French fries’ I grew up with, which seemed to be everyone’s favorite dinner in the 40s and 50s.

  • one grass-fed 10-ounce New York strip steak purchased from John Stoltzfoos at his family’s Millport Dairy Farm stall in the Union Square Greenmarket, pan grilled (seasoned on both sides only after each had been seared) over a medium-high flame, until medium rare, cut into 2 servings, each spread with half of a tablespoon of a softened composed butter (butter which had remained after this meal last fall, and had been divided into one-tablespoon packages; it was composed of softened ‘Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter‘ flavored with a small amount of toasted and crushed dried fennel seed; a few drops of Worcestershire sauce; salt; pepper; a couple ounces of Gorgonzola Casarrigoni from Whole Foods; and a sprinkling of crushed home-dried, very dark, heatless habanada peppers), the steak allowed to rest a few minutes before being served garnished with Hong Vit micro radish from Windfall Farms
  • ruby crescent potatoes from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, halved lengthwise, tossed with a little olive oil, salt, pepper, golden home-dried habanada pepper, fresh sage from Keith’s Farm, fresh rosemary from Hoeffner Farms, arranged cut side down on a medium Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at about 375º for about 20 or 25 minutes
  • the wine was a terrific Washington (Columbia Valley) red, Powers Cabernet Sauvignon Columbia Valley 2014. from Chelsea Wine Vault

 

sautéed garlic-herb-marinated Squeteague; collards, garlic

This is a wonderful fish, and the simple recipe I used last night allows its own virtues to be fully savored.

The image immediately below is of the fillets in the marinade, and the bowl of uncooked washed and cut greens).

  • two 7 1/2-ounce fillets of Squeteague (aka ‘Weakfish’ or Sea/Ocean Trout) from American Seafood Company, marinated for about half an hour on the counter in a mix of a little olive oil, one minced garlic clove, and 5 different herbs (2 crushed fresh bay leaves from West Side Market, fresh oregano from Stokes Farm; fresh parsley, thyme, and mint from Eataly; and fresh tarragon from Whole Foods), drained, sautéed/fried for about 2 minutes in a heavy, lightly-oiled (one tablespoon), tin-lined oval copper pan which had been pre-heated to medium-hot, skin-slide down first, the fillets then turned and cooked for another minute, until opaque and firm, drizzled with some of the marinade and served

Resting inside a tub in the Greenmarket earlier that day – near the end of January – the collards were totally irresistible.

  • young collards from Norwich Meadows Farm, cut as a very rough chiffonade, braised until barely softened inside a heavy enameled cast iron pot in which one halved clove of quartered garlic from Lucky Dog Organic Farm had first been allowed to sweat in some olive oil, the greens finished with salt, pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil

There was a very good cheese course, but I neglected to photograph it.

  • three cheeses, ‘Arethusa Blue’, a Connecticut blue cow cheese from Eataly, Consider Bardwell’s ‘Slybro’ goat cheese, and their ‘Barden’ blue cow cheese, served with slices of a very fresh, extraordinarily delicious She Wolf Bakery sourdough baguette

 

penne, celeriac, alliums, Speck, chives, parsley, Parmesan

It was to be one of those intervals between nights which featured meat or fish, and it was going to be either a frittata or a pasta. The decision was made shortly after I began burrowing around in my vegetable inventory. There I found a tidy cache of celery root, and not much more. Looking around on the internet, I soon realized that a marriage of celeriac and pasta didn’t seem at all out of the question, especially with the right condiments, and my kitchen can usually provide those.

The recipe with which inspired me asked for ham, cut into small strips. I didn’t have ham, which would have been fairly thick, but I did have some very thinly-sliced Speck. I cut it only into segments, which was a mistake: I should have expected that they wouldn’t stay separated; it would have been better to chop the Speck very finely.

Have I said often enough before now that I love anything celery-ish?