I’m new to cooking with morels (who isn’t, other than the lucky few who can hunt them in nearby fields?); I think I still have work to do on these prized and very expensive fungi, assuming I save up enough for another go: Maybe I’m too allied to Mediterranean cookery, but while this approach with a flounder fillet that I employed last night was delicious, it didn’t seem like an ideal match.

It had started at this pretty spectacular table of foraged mushrooms and ramps, or wild spring leeks, at the Union Square Greenmarket(note: the beautiful eggs weren’t foraged).

• two and a quarter ounces of perfectly clean[ed] fresh morel mushrooms (two mushrooms) from the spring foraged plants table overseen by Patrick, I think, at the Violet Hill Farm stand in the Union Square Greenmarket, sliced narrowly lengthwise (this cut may not have been a wise choice for these fungi, at least aesthetically) and added to a heavy antique copper skillet in which one spring garlic stem (the white section, and a little of the green) had first been softened in a tablespoon or so of butter, the morels immediately salted, to encourage moisture escaping, gently sautéed for several minutes until brown, a splash of Lustau dry (fino) sherry from Philippe Wines stirred in, the mushrooms seasoned with freshly ground black pepper, and kept warm while the fish, which had already begun cooking, was finished
• one very fresh flounder fillet (a total of 21 ounces) from P.E & D.D. Seafood Company, halved, seasoned on both sides with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, sautéed fairly gently in a couple tablespoons of butter inside a large (13-inch), thick-walled antique tin-lined copper pan, flesh side first, turned after about 2 minutes, maybe slightly more, the second side cooked for about the same length of time before the fish was removed and arranged on 2 plates, either covered, to keep warm, or, if it’s convenient to do so, placed inside a barely-warm until the mushroom sauce was completed, at which time it was spooned onto the flounder
• four medium size ‘red thumb’ potatoes and 2 ‘pinto’ potatoes (the 2 kinds remaining from larger numbers, and now assembled together as a single vegetable for this meal), all from from Norwich Meadows Farm, scrubbed, boiled whole and unpeeled in heavily-salted water until barely cooked through, drained, halved, dried in the still-warm large vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot in which they had cooked, a tablespoon of Organic Valley European-Style Cultured Butter added, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, arranged on the plates and sprinkled with chopped lovage, also from Norwich Meadows

• ten or eleven ounces of medium thickness (they did not have to be peeled) green asparagus from Hoeffner Farms, their tougher lower ends snapped off, rolled inside a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan with a handful of thyme branches from Phillips Farm in a little more than a tablespoon of olive oil, a little salt, and black pepper, roasted at 425º for about 20 or 25 minutes, then drizzled with a bit of Whole Foods Market organic lemon after they had been arranged on the plates
• the wine was a French (Loire/Sancerre) white, Domaine Paul Cherrier Sancerre Blanc 2017 from 67 Wine
• the music was an album of orchestral music by Hans Werner Henze, the Double Concerto for Oboe, Harp and Strings, the Fantasia for Strings, and the Sonata for Strings; the performers include Ursula Holliger (Harp), Heinz Holliger (Oboe), Paul Sacher (Conductor), and the Zurich Collegium Musicum

We had been to the theater, a stunning performance of Sam Shepard’s ‘Curse of the Starving Class’, and, both stimulated and disturbed, we’d decided to head for the comfort of our home table rather than eat out (food, and eating both feature large in the play).

We didn’t arrive home until about 10:30. Dinner would have to be assembled quickly, but I wanted it to be very satisfying, so it was ‘two bachelors pasta’ to the rescue (my appellation, my improvisation, with a nod to any number of variations on ‘spaghettata di mezzanotte‘).

I put water in the pot and set it above a high flame as soon as we got into the apartment; the rest of the cooking operation was almost as easy.

• eight or nine ounces of a one kilogram package of Setaro Neapolitan spaghetti from Buon Italia in the Chelsea Market, cooked al dente, drained, some of the water reserved, mixed into one of the simplest sauces possible: 3 thinly sliced green, or spring garlic bulbs, the white sections only, from John D. Madura Farms and a bit of crushed dried Calabresi peperoncino secchia, also from Buon Italia, heated together inside a large antique copper pot until the garlic had softened, (basically, seconds), seasoned with sea salt, almost a full cup of the reserved pasta water added and the mix stirred over high heat for a couple of minutes, or until the liquid had emulsified, some garlic mustard (not garlic, but it is a mustard) flowers and leaves, from Norwich Meadows Farm, stirred in, more of the herb later tossed on top of the pasta, which was served with olive oil drizzled around the edges

• the wine was and Italian (Campania) white, Feudi di San Gregorio Falanghina 2017, from Garnet Wines
• the music was another album by the ensemble, Il Giardino Armonico, ‘Viaggio Musicale / Italian Music of the Seventeenth Century‘, which was at least as gorgeous as the other two we’ve heard this week

While the photograph above is my favorite image of this meal, this one may really describe it better:

On Monday afternoon, the same day I had picked up the swordfish belly that I prepared that night, I had also bought one fresh duck breast. At the time I was thinking of it as a small ‘speculative’ investment: Because we had enjoyed a meal of meat only a few days before, it was unlikely that we we’d be eating more soon. I thought I’d freeze it until an occasion presented itself, but before I did, it was Tuesday, and the occasion had arrived.

It was the cool weather, but mostly it was the vegetables.

I had suddenly remembered that I had a couple of small yummy-type squash in the refrigerator, which, together with some luscious spinach I had bought the day before, almost demanded something like duck.

Forgotten however, since they had been there almost a month, was the just how small these kabocha squash actually were (they were the runts of the bucket, and the last 2 cleft in the farmer’s stall, which is pretty much why I had bought them), especially since they had become just a little desiccated over that time, and I still had to hollow out and remove the seeds and stringy pulp. I realized the inadequacy of their size only once I had begun preparing dinner, so necessity was the mother of inspiration. They had almost disappeared, but I still had sufficient warning of the problem, and I managed to find a small supporting cast: I added a little celery and a few small very spicy radishes, roughly chopped, then continued, improvising a bit, with a recipe I would have used if it had been the squash alone that I was cooking.

It was delicious, more than just a good complement to the duck and the spinach.

The spinach cooked down fast, seemed to be trying to disappear, but I put a brake on it just before it did, and its sweetness made up for the smallness of its final portion.

The duck itself was pretty small, but it’s a very intense, sturdy meat; it came with no surprises, presented absolutely no difficulties; it helps that I could almost do this recipe in my sleep; and it was superb, as always.

• one 14-ounce duck breast from Hudson River Duck Farm, the fatty side scored in tight cross hatching with a very sharp knife, after which the entire breast rubbed, top and bottom, with a mixture of sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and a little turbinado sugar, left standing on the counter for about 45 minutes to an hour before being pan-fried, fatty side down first, inside a small oval enameled cast iron pan over medium heat for a total of about 9 or 10 minutes, turning once, draining the oil after the first few minutes (the fat strained can be used in cooking at another time, if desired), the breast removed when medium rare, cut crosswise into 2 portions and checked for the right doneness in the center, which means definitely no more than medium rare, and maybe even a bit less, drizzled with a little juice from an organic Whole Foods Market lemon and some olive oil, the halves transferred to warm plates sitting on top of the oven

• two mini kabocha squash from Lani’s Farm scrubbed, halved, the seeds and pith removed, cut into narrow wedges, plus an equal amount each of celery from Chelsea Whole Foods Market and Korean green Mu radishes from Norwich Meadows Farm, all roughly cut into the same size as the squash, mixed by hand inside a large bowl with a relatively small amount of olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and a pinch from a gorgeous (dried) hickory smoked Jamaican Scotch bonnet pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, purchased in the Greenmarket last December, arranged on a large, unglazed, well-seasoned ceramic pan and roasted at 425º for 20 or 25 minutes, the vegetables removed from the oven and transferred to a large heavy antique copper pot in which 3 sliced bulbs of ‘Music’ spring garlic from Windfall Farms and a generous amount of fresh thyme leaves from Phillips Farms had been gently heated in a bit of olive oil

• a few ounces of loose spinach from Alewife Farm, washed in several changes of water, drained, very gently wilted (that is, trying not reduce it too far) inside a large, heavy, antique high-sided tin-lined copper pot in a little olive oil in which 3 quartered cloves of ‘music garlic’ from Windfall Farms had first been allowed to sweat, seasoned with salt, pepper, and a bit of crushed dried Calabrian peperoncini secchia from Buon Italia, finished on the plates with a little more olive oil
• the wine was  French (Languedoc-Roussillon/Corbieres) red, Domaine de Fontsainte Rouge AOC Corbières [unfortunately I didn’t document the vintage, and we don’t remember from whom we acquired it]

• the music was the Il Giardino Armonico album, ‘La casa del Diavolo’ [The House of the Devil]

It’s not tofu.

It’s swordfish belly, and, inexplicably it’s still almost invisible on the internet. This is the second time I’ve prepared it at home, improvising a separate recipe each time. This one seemed even better than the first one.

What it’s also not, is swordfish ‘bacon’, so just ignore the people describing it that way:  It won’t help in its cooking or its enjoyment.

Another factoid: The word “garlic” appears in the description of each of the 3 segments of this meal, although in one case there is no actual garlic and none of them resembles any of the others.

More interesting is the meal’s locavore slant: Although there had once been an even more local sea salt available here, the enterprise called Urban Sproule (it seems to have now disappeared), with its remarkable product drawn from neighbor Brooklyn, last night was the first time I ever blesssed a meal with a local salt; it was also one of a relatively few number of meals posted here that have featured a local citrus fruit. I’m now looking forward to the next breakthrough: local black pepper and local olive oil (just kidding).

Finally, this meal was more of a collaborative than most, as it was assembled largely through exchanges between Barry and myself (I must have felt more tentative than usual in the kitchen last night).

• one 1½-inch-thick (there’s significant shrinkage as it cooks) belly steak from a local (Long Island) waters swordfish (16 ounces) from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, brought to kitchen/room temperature, cut into 1½-inch-wide segments and the skin sliced off (although I’m still not sure that would have been necessary), briefly seared, 30 seconds on the first side, 15 on the second, inside a totally dry (no oil or butter whatsoever) large enameled cast iron pan which had been pre-heated above a high flame until very hot, the fish removed and arranged on warm plates, the heat under the pan reduced to a medium flame, a tablespoon or so of olive oil added, and 3 small chopped spring ‘Magic’ garlic bulbs from Windfall Farms introduced, along with 4 halved Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Chelsea Whole Foods, the vegetables pushed around inside the pan until they had softened, then arranged on and around the swordfish, everything seasoned with local Long Island sea salt, also from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, finished with a squeeze of a small local Persian lime that had been raised by David Tifford of Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, a farmer (mostly of decorative plants, which he sells in the Union Square Greenmarket, garnished with roughly chopped fresh oregano from Phillips farms
• just under a pound of pinto potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm in the Union Square Greenmarket, scrubbed, boiled whole and unpeeled in heavily-salted water until barely cooked through, drained, dried in the still-warm large vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot in which they had cooked, then halved, and a tablespoon or so of olive oil added, the potatoes tossed with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, arranged on the plates, sprinkled with chopped fresh garlic mustard from Norwich Meadows Farm
• the second half of the bunch of baby cavolo nero, lacinato kale, or black kale, from from Migliorelli Farm, remaining from a meal on Friday, briefly wilted with olive oil and 4 smallish garlic cloves from Mexico via Whole Foods Market, the garlic first having been heated in the oil until almost beginning to brown, the greens finished with salt, freshly-ground black pepper, a squeeze of lemon juice, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a wonderful surprise, a French (Corsica) rosé using the native Sciaccarellu grape, Domaine Eric Poli Sciaccarellu Rose Île de Beauté, from Foragers Wines
• the music was a new, absolutely gorgeous album, ‘La Morte della Ragione‘ (The Death of Reason), in which the brilliant Italian ensemble Il Giardino Armonico performs 15th through the 17th-century instrumental music

I wasn’t sure what to do. I knew it would taste great, for one thing, because it was water buffalo, but also because it was a chuck steak. What I wasn’t sure was how I should cook it.

Buffalo is leaner than beef, and so it needs less time and lower heat on the grill pan. Also, the color is and remains a lot redder than beef, so when it looks like an almost rare beef steak buffalo is actually medium-rare.

Then there was the fact that chuck steak, while really delicious, can be pretty tough if not cooked properly, and knowing what that means is key. I’m definitely not an expert, but I do know that the chuck comes from the large muscles of the shoulder, which do a lot of work, meaning they have a lot of connective tissue. This means that normally these cuts do best with slow, moist heat, like braising in the oven, or, if steaks, with a very quick cooking, like broiling, pan-frying, or pan-grilling.

It was a warm and humid evening, so I had decided against doing a reverse sear, which would seem to have been another possibility.

In the end, perhaps too optimistically, I chose to treat it more or less as I would usually cook a steak. That by itself may not have been a mistake, but I think I did make a mistake in not slicing it into sections once it had been cooked, to at least suggest a tenderness it was not expected to possess, but also for an aesthetic reason, since the steak, while delicious, did look just a little irregular on the plates.

• one 14-ounce water buffalo chuck steak from Riverine Ranch, washed, dried, covered in olive oil, sea salt, freshly ground black pepper, covered loosely in wax paper, allowed to rest on the counter for 2 hours, then dried, pan grilled above a medium-high flame, loosely covered with foil, for 2 and a half or 3 minutes, turned over, cooked for another 2 and a half minutes, removed with a finger test and an instant read thermometer suggested it was rare to medium rare, halved, visually checking for doneness, and a little thawed gorgonzola/fennel butter remaining from a previous meal spread on top, the steaks allowed to rest for 6 to 8 minutes, garnished with chopped garlic mustard from Norwich Meadows Farm

• seventeen thick asparagus spears (just under 22 ounces before heavy trimming) from John D. Madura Farms, their tough stem ends snapped off and most of the length of their stems peeled with a vegetable tool, rolled in a couple tablespoons of olive oil, a little salt, ground black pepper, and a large handful of thyme branches from Phillips Farms inside a large rectangular enameled cast iron pan, sautéed over medium high heat while continuing to frequently roll or turn them until they were beginning to brown (about 15 minutes), finished on the plates with a drizzle of Chelsea Whole Foods Market organic lemon

• three Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods Market, halved, seasoned with salt and pepper, placed inside a small tin-lined copper pan in a little olive oil above a medium flame until they had softened,, turning once, arranged on beds of olive oil-drizzled fresh lovage [image above], the last in the bucket at Norwich Meadows Farm a few day before, next to the steaks, the tomatoes sprinkled with slightly crushed, incredibly fragrant dried Semi di Finocchietto Ibleo [wild Sicilian fennel seed] from Flatiron Eataly
• the wine was a Portuguese (Bairrada) red, Sidonio De Sousa, Bairrada 2015, from Astor Wines
• the music was the album, ‘Johann David Heinichen: Dresden Concerti‘