The meal was supposed to be little more that a “knee play” (Philip Glass defines a knee play as an interlude between acts, as “the ‘knee’ or joining function that humans’ anatomical knees perform), but it turned out to be a pretty sophisticated savory dish on its own. I normally think of these modest pasta dishes as both links and breathing spaces between conventional entrées likely to incorporate seafood or meat more prominently, but sometimes the pastas end up as standouts.

Although I think that if you’ve included 7 large salted anchovies in a recipe, it pretty much becomes a seafood dish itself.

• three fairly thinly sliced bulbous spring garlic stems from Lani’s Farm, placed inside a large antique copper pot over medium heat, along with some crushed dried Calabresi peperoncino secchia from Buon Italia in the Chelsea Market and cooked until the garlic was somewhat tender, after which 7 tinned salted Sicilian anchovies from Buon Italia, filleted, were added and heated until the indispensable engraulidae had fallen apart, followed by over a cup of halved Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Chelsea Whole Foods Market, plus many of the chopped green sections of the fresh garlic that began in the pain earlier, everything cooked until the mix had become ‘saucy’ (about 5 minutes), sea salt and freshly ground pepper added, that mix tossed with 8 ounces that remained from a one kilogram package of Afeltra 100% Pasta di Gragnano I.G.P. rigatone from Flatiron Eataly that had just finished being cooked al dente and drained, the sauced pasta served with sautéed homemade bread crumbs toasted in a little olive oil, and some chopped parsley from Phillips Farms [the preparation was inspired by a Mark Bittman recipe]
• the wine was an Italian (Campania/Sannio) white, Aia dei Colombi, Falanghina del Sannio DOC ‘Guardis Sanframondi’ 2018, from Flatiron Wines 
• the music was the Schubert/Berio symphony (also discussed here), performed by Christoph König conducting the Solistes Européens, Luxembourg

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.

• because there had been a visit to a gallery opening earlier in the evening, there was no real first course, but while I was putting together the main, we enjoyed a  mix of sweet and hot radishes from the Greenmarket, green or Korean mu radishes from Norwich Meadows Farm, and, from the week before, the last bunch of red radishes from Lucky Dog Organic Farm; we also nibbled on some rustic Italian breadsticks, Mario Fongo grissini integrali, from Buon Italia, and fennel-flavored taralli, also from Buon Italia
• the wine was a really good California sparkling, Eponina Brut California NV, from Naked Wines

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

• one and a half generous bunches of baby cavolo nero, lacinato kale, or black kale, from from Migliorelli Farm, briefly wilted with olive oil and 5 halved garlic cloves from Mexico via Whole Foods Market, the garlic first heated in the oil until almost beginning to brown, finished with salt, freshly-ground black pepper, a squeeze of lemon juice, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine with the tuna was an Oregon (Willamette Valley) rosé, Chris Baker Willamette Valley Rose of Pinot Noir 2017, from Naked Wines
• the music was the four of us

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

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.

 

• one bunch of very tender flowering kale from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, drained, and braised/wilted inside a large, antique tin-lined copper pot in which two garlic cloves from Chelsea Whole Foods Market had been allowed to sweat over low heat in a little olive oil, the dish finished (I think) with a bit of crushed dried Sicilian peperoncino from Buon Italia, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a California (Lodi) white, Evangelos Bagias Lodi Chardonnay 2017, from Naked Wines
• the music was the conclusion of Busoni’s ‘Dr. Faust’, in a performance by the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Ferdinand Leitner, the scenes that still remained when we finished that dinner

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