spice-rubbed quail; rosemary potatoes; treviso, balsamic

Even without an occasion, quail always seems like an occasion.

  • a brace of pasture-raised certified organic quail from Abra Morawiec’s Feisty Acres Farm in Jamesport, Long Island, each weighing a little more than 8 ounces, rinsed, dried inside and out, the cavities seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, with one quarter of a gently squeezed organic Whole Foods Market lemon inserted in each, the legs tied together and the wings sewn close to the body, their bodies rubbed all over with a mix of spices and olive oil (a third of a teaspoon of cumin and a fourth of a teaspoon of coriander, ground together and placed in a small bowl, where a bit of powdered Nigerian cayenne and 2 tablespoons of olive oil were added) then sprinkled with a bit of salt and pepper, the birds placed breast side up in a small enameled cast iron roasting pan just large enough to accommodate both (set on top of sections of 2 celery stems from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, to keep them upright), placed in a 425º oven for about 9 or 10 minutes, at which time they were brushed with the remaining spice and oil mixture, continued with the roasting until done (an instant-read thermometer would register 150º, and the meat should feel slightly firm, and the juices run pale pink if the bird is punctured with a skewer), then removed from the oven, covered with tin foil and allowed to rest for 5 minutes before they were arranged on warm plates, drizzled with the pan juices and garnished with chopped parsley from Keith’s Farm

  • one pound of pinto potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, halved lengthwise, tossed with a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, rosemary leaves from from Stokes Farm, a small amount of crushed dark home-dried habanada pepper, then arranged cut side down on a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at about 425º for about 20 minutes

    Aufersteh’n, ja aufersteh’n wirst du,
    Mein Staub, nach kurzer Ruh!

[image above, of Alma and Gustav Mahler walking near Toblach, from Alma]