fennel/chili grilled tuna, fennel/tomato/olive mix, lacinato

The best part of this meal was the company (and the food itself was really good). We had invited an American friend visiting New York from his home in Berlin, along with his non-Berlin brother, who was staying with him while he was here.

I’d been at the Union Square Greenmarket earlier in the day of course, and my idea was to bring home seafood and vegetables whose preparation would distract me as little as possible from a conversation I was really looking forward to. The two last tuna steaks lying on ice under the glass top of the fish monger’s display case would be perfect, and I quickly found a special green. The concept for a second vegetable began with 4 baby fennel bulbs, but it soon became more complicated. I thought it would still require little concentration, which turned out to be only half true.

But it was all great fun, and it went on for hours.

The main course took more time to assemble than I had expected (the distractions were great).

  • two thick 12-ounce tuna steaks from Pura Vida Seafood Company, rinsed, dried, and each of them halved to form 4 long pieces (because of their topography), tops and bottoms seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, then rubbed with a mixture of almost 2 tablespoons of a mix of some incredibly wonderful dried Semi di Finocchietto Ibleo [wild Sicilian fennel seed], harvested in the Iblei Mountains, from Eataly Flatiron and a little dried peperoncino Calabresi secchi from Buon Italia, in the Chelsea Market, both first crushed together in a porcelain mortar and pestle, the steaks pan-grilled above a medium-high flame for little more than a minute or so on each side (when the cook can remember to watch the time), finished on the plates with a good squeeze of the juice of an organic lemon from Chelsea Whole Foods Market and a drizzle of Trader Joe’s Sicilian Selezione olive oil

  • a vegetable compote, inspired by Marc Bittman, of four small spring fennel bulbs from Central Valley Farm, most of the stems and fronds removed (the remaining stems and most of the fronds kept for another use, some of the more tender stems and some of the fronds set aside, sliced crosswise about one half to one quarter of an inch thick, added to a medium heavy antique high sided copper pot in which a few tablespoons of olive oil had been heated over a medium flame, salt and black pepper added, sautéed until quite soft, ideally without burning (I burnt some edges this time), more than a teaspoon of fresh thyme leaves from Phillips Farms and 5 or so thinly sliced ramp bulbs from Lucky Dog Organic Farm added and stirred for about a minutes, then 10 ounces of halved Village Farms mini San Marzano baby plum tomatoes from Canada (the grower’s headquarters are in British Columbia) via Trader Joe’s, half a cup of pitted kalamata olives from Whole Foods Market, and almost a fourth of a cup of thoroughly rinsed large Mongetto Salinas salted capers from the Eolian Islands, via Eataly, added, the flame raised a little the all cooked until the mixture was virtually ‘saucy’, served with a garnish of some chopped reserved fennel fronds and thinly sliced ramp leaves

ragù of braised goat, fresh pappardelle, pecorino, parsley

I don’t think I would ever cook a ragout (ragù/ragoute) from scratch in order to create a pasta sauce (I’m not sure anyone does, because of the nature of the thing), but after cooking and serving a goat leg last week, I thought that, with all the leftovers, the makings for one had fallen into my lap.

Apparently there is such a thing as too rich when it comes to food, as there is in just about anything else.

I had well over half a pound of some intensely aromatic slow-cooked meat, but there was no physical sign of the vegetables that had contributed to its flavor during the 4 and a half hours it had spent in the oven on Sunday. A ragout is expected to include vegetables, and maybe only vegetables, since the meat with which they are cooked is sometimes removed and reserved for another use once the sauce has been prepared.

On Tueday I was dealing with the opposite scenario. To make it work, I could have ‘built back in’ some vegetables, so that it would at least be some form of Italian ragù, but since this dinner was supposed to be simple and quickly-assembled, I just ‘built it out’ with some interesting fats and liquids, in order to adjust the flavor and create a sauce for my supply of dry chunks and ‘pulled’ pieces of goat.

In the end I felt it wasn’t totally satisfactory, perhaps because, in the absence of vegetables, the ragù was too concentrated, too rich, too, well, ..’meaty’.

Also, on reflection today, I realize that if I had taken a few minutes to cook and add a vegetable or two the goat leftovers could have been incorporated in still a third meal, and that would have saved cooking time, at least on a different day.

  • ten ounces of boned braised leg of goat, plus some defrosted fat and stock remaining from a meal of pork belly, a pinch of crushed dried smoked seranno pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, a freshly-ground mix of black pepper and other seeds or spices that had been accidentally been combined when I was preparing a dry marinade for that same pork belly meal and then decided to hold onto for future use (black pepper, fennel seeds cumin seeds, coriander seeds, star anise, white peppercorns, and whole clove), sea salt, tomato paste, water from the pasta pot, and a little olive oil, mixed inside a large antique copper pot into which 12 ounces of fresh papardelle from Luca Donofrio‘s fresh pasta shop inside Eataly’s Flatiron store, boiled carefully for little more than 2 minutes, or until barely cooked through, in a large amount of well-salted water, drained, some of the pasta water retained and added to the pan, everything stirred over a medium-high flame until the liquid had emulsified, then arranged inside shallow bowls, garnished with chopped parsley from Phillips Farms, some freshly shredded Sini Fulvi Pecorino Romano D.O.C. from Chelsea Whole Foods Market sprinkled on top, and some olive oil drizzled around the edges
  • the wine was a Portuguese (Douro) red, Mateus Nicolau de Almeida, Trans Douro Express ‘Baixo Corgo’ 2015, from Flatiron Wines
  • the music was Karl Nielsen’ 1906 comic opera, ‘Maskarade’, Denmark’s ‘national opera’ virtually from its premier,  Ulf Schirmer conducting the Danish Radio Symphony Orchestra, the Danish National Radio Choir and the Danish Boys Choir, with Boje Skovus, Aage Haugland, Susanne Resmark, Gert Henning-Jensen, Michael Kristensen, Kurt Ravn, Johan Reuter, Bo Giles Nandfred, Marianne Rorholm, Bo Anker Hansen, Peter Fog, Susse Lillesoe, Hanna Hjort, Anette Simonsen, Henrietta Bonde Hansen, Flemming Jensen, Lars Pederson, and Poul Emborg

baked cod and smoked chili potatoes; flowering white kale

It was cold and raining while I stood in front of the fish stall in the Greenmarket; I slacked the partner, who was at work, sending him a pic of the menu board, and asked for a suggestion; the answer came back almost immediately, “given the weather, one of the fish and potatoes [recipes]”.

Here it is.

  • one large section (18 ounces) of a very fresh cod fillet ounces total) from P.E. & D.D. Seafood in the Union Square greenmarket, washed and rinsed, carefully halved, placed in a platter on a bed of coarse sea salt, with more salt added on top until the pieces were completely covered, then set aside while a bed of potatoes was prepared for them by slicing lengthwise (to a thickness of roughly 1/4″) 12 ounces of ‘red thumb’ (medium size) potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, tossing them inside a bowl with a little olive oil, sea salt, a freshly-ground mix of black pepper and other things that had gotten together accidentally when I was preparing a dry marinade for a meal a while back and then decided to hold onto for future use (black pepper, fennel seeds cumin seeds, coriander seeds, star anise, white peppercorns, and whole clove), and a pinch of smoked serrano pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, arranging the potatoes, only slightly overlapping, since they were relatively few this time, inside a well-seasoned 9″ x 12″ La Tienda rectangular terra cotta cazuela, or glazed ceramic oven pan, cooking them for 25 minutes or so in a 400º oven, or until they were tender when pierced, but not quite fully cooked, then the cod fillets, having already been removed from the platter and their salt covering, thoroughly immersed in many fresh changes of water to bring down the saltiness (the soaking process somehow gives the fish more solidity, which can be easily felt while it’s being handled it at this point; it’s kinda sexy; it’s also weird how this Marc Bittman recipe totally turns inside out the ancient tradition of salting cod, which is an ancient response to preserve seafood over time and great distance), drained and dried, were placed inside the pan on top of the potatoes, drizzled with a little olive oil, sprinkled with black pepper, the pan returned to the oven for about 8 or 9 minutes (the exact time depends on the thickness of the fillets), or until just cooked through, removing the fish with a spatula (or, better, 2 spatulas), along with as much of the potatoes as can be brought along with each piece, arranging everything as intact as possible on the plates, returning to the pan for the remainder of the potatoes, the servings garnished with micro chervil from Two Guys from Woodbridge

I forgot to snap a picture of the kale while I was at the Greenmarket, so here it is on the kitchen counter (it reduced dramatically while wilting in the pot), with the salted cod on the upper right.

 

a faustian meal of slow braised goat, white turnips; collards

We do eat meat occasionally, but we don’t eat like this very often, and I definitely don’t cook like this very often.

Roasts, stews, and long slow braises however do have their satisfactions, especially in colder realms in and colder months, like, well, parts of New York, this month.

One of the other pleasures of a rich meal is in the planning, the anticipation, and the preparation (the last, especially when there have been several (2) days of preparation.

The music is also a part of the experience, and especially if the windows can be closed. On this night it was Busoni’s “Faust’.

And the serendipity! I love turnips, and on the day before I was to prepare a marinade for this goat leg, when I had not yet decided on what to accompany it with, I came across a table display of white turnips in the Union Square Greenmarket, including a number of quite small ones. They were a size I had never cooked before; I may never even have seen such small turnips before, but I had been aware of their existence for decades.  Julia Child wrote about ‘navets’ in her ‘Mastering the Art of French Cooking,

“The turnip is a wonderful vegetable when given the treatment required to bring out its delicious qualities. It wants and needs to absorb butter or meat fats, which is why turnips are particularly succulent when finished off in a stew or a braised dish, or in the juices of roasting meat.”  

She was writing something like 60 years ago, mostly for American readers, so she found it necessary to explain that she wasn’t talking about the turnips with which I grew up in the Midwest in the middle of the last century,

“In France rutabagas, or yellow turnips, are practically unheard of as food for humans, but they may be used interchangeably with white turnips.”

She went on to point out that In the country which inspired her career they would be shaped into what was called tourner gousses d’ail ou olives, so of course I always cut my large turnips into little clove of garlic or olive shapes (although larger than the model she referred to).

This past Sunday I finally had the correct size of turnip in my hands, and for the first time ever I simply had to peel them. They started and ended pretty round, so more like olives than gousses d’ail this first time out. Here they are just after I added them to the braise roughly 90 minutes before it was done:

With the turnips, this past Sunday evening, we enjoyed a slowly-cooked leg of goat that had begun with a mirepoix and was braised with the help of some rare aromatic liquids, some of which had been a part of earlier meals.

I began defrosting the 2.64-pound goat leg from Lynnhaven Dairy Goat Farm in the Union Square Greenmarket inside the refrigerator early in the afternoon on Thursday, rubbed the peppercorn/garlic/lemon zest/parsley marinade into the goat leg around noon on Saturday, then returned it to the refrigerator, inside the covered pot in which it would later be braised, removing it 24 hours later, and I placed it in the oven after preparing a mirepoix for it and immersing the goat in 4 different rich liquids shortly after 3 on Sunday.

The pot then remained in the oven for 4 and a half hours.

I used a recipe for braised leg of lamb that had been languishing inside one of my recipe a folders for years; I had spent a good deal of time researching ideas for cooking what isn’t really a very conventional piece of meat. I knew from the beginning however that goat was similar enough to lamb to be readily substituted. In the end I decided to use this fairly straightforward Sam Hayward recipe for a braised leg of lamb, a clipping I had cut out of the New York Times 15 years ago, that I found in front of my nose, in my ‘lamb’ paper file.

The braising liquid was from 4 sources: a good red wine, Marc Isart La Maldicion Tinto de Valdilecha 2017; from Copake Wine Works, a previously-frozen Kassler Braten stock; a veal tongue stock; and a pretty decent low-sodium chicken stock.

Of course the rich, mahogany-colored sauce was pretty awesome.

At the very end I did add something not in the original recipe, a garnish of chopped garlic mustard from Alewife Farm

  • one pound of very small white turnips from Norwich Meadows Farm, peeled, joined the goat and the liquids about 90 minutes before the pot was removed from the 250º oven

  • one bunch of collard greens, also from Norwich Meadows 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 large, heavy antique tin-lined copper pot in which 2 halved clove of garlic from Chelsea Whole Foods Market had first been allowed to sweat in some olive oil, adding a little of the reserved water along the way as necessary, finished with salt, pepper, finished with a drizzle of olive oil
  • the wine was a Greek (Eastern Macedonia and Thrace/Drama) white, En Oeno 2010 (Cabernet Sauvignon 65% / Merlot 30% / Cabernet Franc 5%), from Foragers Market Wine
  • the music was a recording of Busoni’s ‘Dr. Faust’, in a performance by the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Ferdinand Leitner

bacon, eggs, garlic mustard, chicory, ramps, great toast

There were no tomatoes this time, and there was a minimum number of little herb or spice condiments, but – wonderful to relate – it was still really enjoyable, in the assembling and in the eating.

The very special tender spring garlic mustard was the guest performer, but the great eggs, bacon, and one small head of chicory were stars as well.

  • the entire cast: some very fresh eggs from pastured chickens and bacon from pastured pigs, both from Millport Dairy Farm, the eggs seasoned with Maldon salt, and not just pepper, but a mix of black pepper and other things that had gotten together accidentally when I was preparing a dry marinade for a meal a while back and then decided to hold onto for an occasion like this (black pepper, fennel seeds cumin seeds, coriander seeds, star anise, white peppercorns, and whole clove), finished with a pinch of dried fenugreek from Bombay Emerald Chutney Company (purchased at the Saturday Chelsea Farmers Market last fall); one small roughly chopped chicory rosette from Campo Rosso Farm sautéed in olive oil with 3 ramp bulbs (and served under their leaves), from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, finished with a drizzle of Columela Rioja 30 Year Reserva sherry vinegar; some wonderful garlic mustard from Alewife Farm; Sicilian Selezione olive oil from Trader Joe’s; Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’; lightly toasted slices of 2 terrific Lost Bread Co. loaves, ‘table bread’ and ‘Pane di Tavalo’ (a creation modeled on a famous bread from the town of Genzano, near Rome)
  • our Sunday music was a recording of Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf’s 1776 biblical oratorio, ‘Giobbe’, in a performance by the Rhenische Kantorei/Das Kliene Konzert conducted by Hermann Max

pasta trumpets, purple radish, greens, garlic, breadcrumbs

Dinner almost had to be a radish pasta.

I was surprised (embarrassed) to learn earlier in the evening that when I had recently bought some radishes, there were still some sitting inside the crisper. I think that was a first for me, but at least the they had arrived in 2 very different colors.

I incorporated the older, purple roots in last night’s dinner, but the leafy greens I used came from the new red ones, not because I wanted to be fussy, but because we’d already consumed the ones that had been attached to the others.

  • two tablespoons of homemade breadcrumbs added to a cast iron skillet in which a tablespoon of olive oil had been heated over a medium flame, toasted, stirring frequently, until golden and crisp (only a minute or two), transferred to a small bowl and mixed with a little zest from an organic Chelsea Whole Foods Market lemon, then set aside while the pasta was prepared: eight ounces of a local pasta, Sfoglini trumpets, cooked al dente inside a large pot of boiling salted water and drained, with one cup of pasta cooking liquid reserved, added to a sauce which had begun with 6 ounces of purple radishes from Lani’s Farm, sliced into 1/4″ rounds, sautéed in a tablespoon of olive oil over medium-high heat inside a large antique copper high-sided pan until they were tender and beginning to brown in spots (about 2 minutes), the radishes removed to a small bowl and another tablespoon of oil added to the pan, together with one sliced stem of spring garlic from Lani’s Farm, the allium stirred until fragrant, which was basically a matter of seconds, followed by the addition of the fresh greens from a different bunch of red radishes, these from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, that had been washed in several changes of water then roughly chopped, along with some of the reserved pasta cooking water, the leaves stirred until only beginning to wilt, the cooked pasta itself now added and mixed with the greens, stirring, more pasta water added as necessary until the liquid had emulsified, the reserved radishes themselves now returned and mixed in, followed by a half tablespoon or so of juice from an organic Whole Foods lemon and some sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and a pinch of dried smoked serrano pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, the sauced pasta arranged in 2 shallow bowls, sprinkled with the bread crumb mixture prepared earlier and garnished with micro ruby streak mustard from Norwich Meadows Farm
  • the wine was a brilliant Greek (Peloponnese) white, Tetramythos Muscat Sec 2015, from Copake Wine Works
  • the music was the album, Georg Friedrich Händel: ‘To All Lovers Of Musick’, Op. 5 (trio sonatas), performed by Eduardo Lopez Banzo and the ensemble Al Ayre Español, conducted from the keyboard by the harpsichordist

grilled scallops, lemon, garlic mustard; tomato; asparagus

Because it introduced almost nothing that was new into the food conversation on this blog, I wasn’t going to bother doing a post about this meal, but there was that ephemeral garlic mustard part, so I changed my mind.

  • sixteen sea scallops (14 ounces) from Pura Vida Seafood, rinsed, dried very thoroughly, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, briefly grilled (90 seconds on each side) in a medium size enameled cast iron pan, finished with a squeeze of juice from a Chelsea Whole Foods Market organic lemon, a sprinkling of a very special treat, some chopped spring garlic mustard (alliaria petiolata/jack-by-the-hedge [Br.]), both blossoms and leaves from Tyler Dennis of Alewife Farm, and a drizzle of olive oil [they were still delicious, but because I was distracted near the end of their ideal cooking time, I left them on the grill a little too long, a mistake which curiously shrunk them in size]
  • three Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Chelsea Whole Foods Market, halved, the cut sides sprinkled with salt and pepper placed in a little olive oil inside a small blue antique (1930s) Pyrex Flameware pan, and heated gently until just before they would have begun to lose shape, arranged on the plates and sprinkled with Sicilian fennel pollen from Buon Italia, a drizzle of good olive oil

  • just under 20 ounces of 14 thick asparagus spears from John D. Madura Farms, trimmed, their stems peeled, rolled, along with half a dozen ramp bulbs and stems (the green leaves set aside), in a couple tablespoons of olive oil inside a large rectangular enameled cast iron pan, sautéed over medium high heat while frequently rolling or turning them until they were beginning to brown (about 15 minutes), finished with a sprinkling of Maldon salt and freshly-ground black pepper, then rolled once again with the reserved ramp leaves, now thinly sliced
  • the wine was an excellent and inexpensive French (Gironde/Bergerac) white, Chateau Laulerie Bergerac Blanc 2018, from Flatiron Wines
  • the music was the 1999 album of exquisitely austere guitar music, ‘Hans Werner Henze / Maximilian Mangold ‎– Royal Winter Music’,  Erste und zweite Sonaten Über Gestalten von Shakespeare, the pieces composed in 1976 and 1980 respectively

rigatone, spring garlic, fiddleheads, chestnut mushrooms

I had all this spring stuff, and I thought I shouldn’t really let it just lie around any longer, so I found a way to put it all together with some great pasta.

  • six or 7 ounces of fiddlehead ferns from Tamarack Hollow Farm, washed vigorously in several changes of water until the brown chaff had been removed [this entertaining, slightly droll video, ‘How to quickly clean fiddleheads‘, could be pretty useful useful if you have a lot of fiddleheads – and more outdoor space than indoor running water], blanched for 2 or 3 minutes, drained, dried, added to a large antique high-sided copper pot in which 3 stems of thin spring ‘Magic’ garlic from Windfall Farms had been heated in a couple tablespoons of olive oil, the fiddleheads sautéed briefly before 6 ounces of sliced chestnut mushrooms from the Union Square Greenmarket stand of Gail’s Farm in Vineland, New Jersey were added and themselves sautéed until they were tender (3-5 minutes), a bit of both crushed dried habanada pepper and dried smoked serrano pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm added along with some sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, before 10 ounces of pasta from a one kilogram package of Afeltra 100% Pasta di Gragnano I.G.P. rigatone from Flatiron Eataly, cooked al dente and drained, were added and stirred in along with some reserved pasta water, over high heat, until the liquid had emulsifeid, arranged in shallow bowls and topped with some shaved Parmigiano Reggiano (aged 24 months) from Chelsea Whole Foods Market
  • the wine was an Italian (Piedmont) red, Oddero, Barbera d’Alba Superiore, 2015, form Flatiron Wines
  • the music was Handel’s more-or-less-1732 opera- ‘Acis and Galatea’, performed by The Sixteen

grilled merlot steak, ramp butter; roasted fingerlings; rabe

I’ve definitely never cooked a merlot steak, and now after engaging it one on one, I can’t remember whether I had even heard of it before last Saturday. We’d just left an art fair that afternoon, when I realized that while we would be guests at a dinner that evening, we hadn’t yet decided what we’d have for dinner on Sunday. We were near one of our favorite neighborhood butchers, so we walked a few blocks further downtown to our neighborhood whole-animal butcher shop.

Fro some time now my preferred steak has been the culotte, or what Brazilians call the picanha, but it’s not always easy to find, and while Hudson & Charles (located, naturally, on Hudson, near Charles, in the West Village) did have one, its particular size and shape wouldn’t really have worked for us that night, so I asked the butcher what he might recommend in its place.

He suggested a ‘merlot’ (video from the Meathook,  another local whole-animal shop), an under-appreciated tender beef steak from the side of the heel inside a larger muscle group called the campanella. I had spotted the word, ‘merlot’ on a label below a steak inside the glass-front cooler just before I asked the question. Its size was perfect, his description made it sound like a winner, and that’s what it turned out to be.

So, 2 days later I found myself in the kitchen with around one pound of an unfamiliar merlot steak, armed with nothing more than salt, pepper, a couple tablespoons of butter, a few ramp leaves, and some lemon zest.

It was terrific, as were the Greenmarket vegetables that joined it.

  • before preparing the meat itself, the leaves of half a dozen ramps (maybe one or 2 tablespoons) from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, washed, dried, and chopped, half a teaspoon of zest from a Chelsea Whole Foods Market organic lemon, sea salt, and some freshly ground black pepper were mixed into 2 and a half tablespoons of softened butter, molded into squares or pats, then set in the refrigerator to chill, removed just as the steak was beginning to cook, meaning one 15-ounce ‘merlot’ steak from Hudson & Charles, halved, dried, rubbed generously with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, was set aside for about an hour, after which time it was placed inside a grill pan already quite hot above a fairly high flame, where the steaks remained, although turned at least once, for about a total of 6 minutes, or until they were medium rare (after they had mostly cooked, I loosely tented the 2 pieces with aluminum foil, and removed both foil and steaks when an instant read thermometer indicated they were medium rare), allowed to rest for 8 minutes or so, then quickly cut across the grain into 1/2″ sections, the reserved ramp butter spread on top

                                                

  • five buttery pinto potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm and 5 sweet redskin potatoes from Race Farm (what remained that night from a larger stock of each), all halved, tossed with a little olive oil (barely a tablespoon), salt, black pepper, a pinch of hickory smoked Jamaican Scotch Bonnet pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, and another pinch of home dried habanada pepper, originally from Norwich Meadows Farm, spread across the surface of a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan and roasted at 400º for a little longer than 20 minutes

sautéed sea bass; chestnut mushrooms, chilis; purple kale

I’m still not used to my forays with some of the finer kinds of white fish ending up as splendidly as lately they sometimes have. This was one of the very best.

It all started in the Union Square Greenmarket, as always.

That image is of only one of the 3 or 4 reservoirs of iced seafood that I faced when I arrived.

I through up my hands looking in frustration looking at the huge variety, so I texted Barry a list of just some of what was at the fish monger’s stall that morning, and asked, “skatefish, monkfish, tuna, swordfish, small bluefish, scallops, pollock, cod, black sea bass, squid, lemon sole, or flounder?”

He decided on the bass.

I also picked up some of the most beautiful mushrooms and kale I had ever seen.

  • two 8-ounce Black Sea Bass fillets from Pura Vida Seafood Company, washed, dried, seasoned on both sides with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, sautéed for 2 to 3 minutes over a fairly brisk flame with butter and a little olive oil inside a large, vintage thick-copper oval long-handled pan, skin side down, then turned over and the other side cooked for about the same length of time, removed when done and arranged on 2 warm plates (I had them inside the oven, set to its lowest temperature), otherwise covered at least a little to retain their warmth, then, with 2 tablespoons of butter added to the pan, 4 ounces of chestnut mushrooms [“Chestnut mushrooms are the mushroom everyone wants, they just don’t know it yet.“] from Ramble Creek Farm‘s stall in the Union Square Greenmarket, that had been cut up, mostly just into 2 pieces (just detaching the lobes from the stems), sautéed, stirring, until lightly cooked, seasoned with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, adding a pinch each of 2 crushed dried peppers, one hot and one with no heat whatsoever (hickory smoked Jamaican Scotch bonnet from Eckerton Hill Farm, and home dried habanada pepper), a couple tablespoons of chopped parsley from Phillips Farms, and a tablespoon and a half of the juice of an organic Whole Foods Market lemon, the mushrooms stirred some more, everything in the pan then spooned onto the plates at one end of the fish (the skin of the bass is too beautiful to cover up)
  • some 5 ounces of purple winterbor kale from from Central Valley Farm, the leaves stripped from their stems, washed in several changes of water, chopped roughly, wilted in a little with olive oil in which 2 garlic cloves from Chelsea’s 8th Avenue Foragers Market, flattened then sliced in half, were allowed to heat until pungent, the greens seasoned with salt, black pepper, and a drizzle of fresh olive oil