Mackerel, Spanish or Boston mackerel, is one of the most beautiful fish in the sea [here, some fillets in full sunlight], whether whole or filleted, and one of the most delicious. It’s a pity so many people avoid it because of the adjective “oily’ that is so casually attached to it, generally with a negative connotation.  But it’s precisely the full flavor and, yes, the oiliness of mackerel and other non-whitefish, like salmon, trout, and tuna (as well as the smaller species, such as anchovies, herring, and sardines), that is prized by others, including myself.  Of course there’s also the health factor, but most people don’t actually eat food counsel.

The secret for enjoying mackerel, or any oily fish, is the same as for any other food is finding the right recipe.  This is just one, and it’s very simple.

• 2-ounce Boston mackerel fillets (a total of 8 for the two of us) from Pura Vida Fisheries, brushed with olive oil and seasoned, pan-grilled briefly over high heat (both sides, skin side down first), then transferred to warm plates and half-covered with a Sicilian-style salsa of halved cherry tomatoes from Toigo Orchards, capers, lemon juice from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, salt, pepper, and a bit of chopped winer savory from Whole Foods
• a mixture of kale and collard greens from Rogowski Farm, roughly chopped, wilted with olive oil in which one lightly-crushed garlic clove from ‘music garlic’ heads from Migliorelli Farm, cut in two, had been heated, the greens seasoned with salt and freshly-ground pepper, and drizzled with more olive oil
• the wine was a Spanish white, CVNE Cuna Monopole Rioja Blanco 2013
• the music was Bach, partitas played by Jeremy Denk

The roots came second in the preparation of this meal, not the usual order for me, but the slow-boiled beef veal tongue that they were to accompany had already been long absorbing the flavors of its broth when it was time to place the vegetables in a hot oven.  The picture above shows them just before that moment, and the picture which follows, of the finished dinner on the plate, was taken almost an hour later.

I love tongue (I’m talking about cooking here).  Most people may think of it as fairly exotic, at the very least.  The fact that it is in the category of ‘offal’, even if the etymology of that word has no relationship to a common like-sounding adjective, doesn’t help its popularity.  If anyone has experienced it at all, it was likely to have been as part of a platter of cold meats, where it might have gone unremarked.

I learned to appreciate it many years ago, as a cold dish and also as a warm entrée.  I was in my 20’s, and already fasciated by the great European cooking traditions, not least those of France and her adopted daughter Julia Child.  I have no interest in consuming really exotic animals, which, to someone still as Eurocentric as I, means anything which would not be found in traditional European kitchens, but I’m game for, well, . . . European game of course, but also offal.

Until this year, my experience with tongue was limited to beef tongue, and that was in my Rhode Island kitchen in the late 60s, 70s and early 80s (my guest-friends back in that era must have thought I was half insane, even before the first of my suckling pig meals).  It was my virtually complete dependence on the Union Square Greenmarket for food sources that recently introduced me to both lamb and veal tongue for the first time.   In almost 30 years I have never seen tongue displayed in the stores in my New York neighborhood, even before it became upscale ; it’s even difficult finding liver, which was always a staple when I was growing up (although it’s possible that offal is finally about to assume its proper place at the upscale meat counter).

I soon learned that if you start looking for a recipe for this cut of meat, or even just some inspiration, you could go on forever.  I jumped on this particular one from Epicurious, for Beef tongue, from May, 2000, because I liked the list of ingredients (and already had them on hand, except for the dill), and, while this may surprise some, it looked pretty straightforward (not too many steps). Since I had a veal tongue a quarter of the weight of the piece specified, I reduced the amounts of the other ingredients accordingly.

Note: After I had removed the tongue, I strained the cooking broth and placed it in a container in the freezer.  I’ll probably use as the basis of a cabbage soup lunch.

• one twelve-ounce veal tongue from Consider Bardwell Farms (a perfect size for two people, as it’s rich, and there are no bones), prepared pretty much by following the recipe alluded to above, using, among others, these fresh ingredients: yellow onion from John D. Madura Farm; ‘music garlic’ cloves from Migliorelli Farm; bay leaf from Whole Foods; shallots from John C. Madura Farms; horseradish from Holy Schmitt’s in the Greenmarket; parsley from Rogowski Farm; local lemon juice from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island
• a melange of root vegetables, including diced celery root from Tamarack Hollow Farm, sliced parsnips from Migliorelli Farm, turnip from Norwich Meadows farm, a little halved or quartered red and yellow onion from John D. Madura Farm, all tossed with olive oil, salt, pepper, and sprigs of winter savory from Whole Foods, the savory placed on the bottom of an oven pan, the roots spread on top, everything roasted at 400º, sliced leeks from S. & S.O. Produce Farms added more than half of the way through, the vegetables removed from the oven when tender and golden (about 45 minutes), then tossed with chopped parsley from Rogowski Farm
• the wine was a French red, Château Moneins Haut-Médoc 2010
• the music was, once again, works by Wilhelm Friedemann Bach

While I was inside Eataly to pick up some bread yesterday afternoon, I passed the shop-made fresh pasta showcase where I got carried away with the the shape of this pasta and the sign describing the seasonal filling (well, anticipating the season just a bit) of asparagus.  The rest of the filling was simply ricotta and goat cheese, so I knew I’d be able to ‘sauce’ it with the cherry tomatoes remaining on hand, along with more of my new infatuation, onion tops.

• asparagus, ricotta and goat cheese-filled triangolo di asparagi, tossed with Maine cherry ‘cocktail’ tomatoes from Whole Foods, slightly-sautéed with sliced garlic and freshly-ground black pepper, the bowls scattered with chopped onion (yellow onion) tops from Phillips Farm
• the wine was a white Italian, Piedmont Wine Project Asinel Bianco 2013 from Chelsea Wine Vault
• the music was some symphonies of J.C. Bach

Incidentally, there is a short story to the name, ‘Asinel’, and the bottle itself boasts one of the most irresistible wine labels I’ve ever pulled off a shelf:

Hunting and gathering:  I picked up the scallops Monday in the Greenmarket, and I already had some kale, but I also wanted to add something which would both fill out the color palette on the plate and add to the modest amount of the serving, at least psychologically.  I pulled a few tomatoes off of the breakfast room window sill.  The onion tops were totally new to me. When I saw the hand-written sign under the awning of the Phillips Farm stall yesterday I had to check them out (it is still early April, after all), although I already knew there was just no way I was going to be going home without them.

I snap pictures of most of the things I buy at the Greenmarket, usually only to be able to have a record of my sources for the purposes of this blog.  The picture below was one of those snapshot ‘notes’, but I like the sense of place and the pocket drama it suggests, .  Also, this is the first time I’ve ever recorded ‘onion tops’.

• scallops from P.E. & D.D. seafood dried (to ensure grill marks), seasoned and pan-grilled briefly on both sides, finished with a squeeze of juice from a local lemon grown by Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, sliced spring onion tops from Phillips Farm, and olive oil
• three Maine cherry ‘cocktail’ tomatoes from Whole Foods, sliced, grilled briefly as the scallops finished cooking, seasoned and sprinkled with chopped fresh oregano from Phillips Farm
• kale from, Rogowski Farm, chopped, wilted with olive oil in which one lightly-crushed garlic clove from Samascott Orchards, cut in two, had been heated, then seasoned with salt and freshly-ground pepper, and drizzled with more olive oil

the wine was a French white, Domaine Paul Buisse Touraine Sauvignon Blanc 2014 from Chelsea Wine Vault

the music was several of Beethoven’s Opus 18 Quartets

Note to self:  The rewards of this combination of pasta and green things exceeded its very modest parts.

 

I had been distracted by the need to work with other ingredients ever since I picked up a bag of sorrel at the Greenmarket, but I eventually found myself stressing out over what I would do with this fabulous herb/green before it self-destructed.  Tonight, faced with the need to put together something between a significant seafood meal and a more festive one involving a small rack of lamb,  I decided to take the easy way out and use it to sauce a good pasta.  Sorrel, the new basil!

• one pound of Setaro spaghettini from Buon Italia cooked al dente, then tossed with a sauce made up of the blending (chopping and then transferring to my vintage Osterizer, since I don’t own a food processor and using my huge iron mortar would have taken too long) of two cups of de-stemmed sorrel from John D. Madura Farm, one third of a cup of parsley from Rogowski Farm, two garlic cloves from S. & S.O. Produce Farms, with the addition of one fourth of a cup of pine nuts and one third of a cup of grated Parmesan, both from Buon Italia, salt, and one fourth of a cup of olive oil
• the wine was an Italian white, Paolo Scavino Langhe 2013 from Chelsea Wine Vault
• the music was the first two hours of a broadcast of Rafael Kubelik’s ‘Parsifal’ on WKCR -FM

Note to self:  a delicious dish, more so for being easy to prepare, adaptable for most white-fleshed fish

 

What is a Red Perch?  I think I’ve finally found the answer, but not before I had probably bored too many very smart people with the question while at a very happy Artsy happy hour last night.

I had been very attracted to the vibrant appearance of these fillets when I saw them in the Greenmarket that day [April 3].  I wasn’t certain the I had ever prepared them in my kitchen, and so naturally I was intrigued even more.  Also, and the price was pretty modest.  I asked Paul, who was standing behind the big ice-filled boxes inside the Pura Vida stall and offering these gorgeous ‘red perch’ fillets to a local fresh seafood-besotted public, to tell me what he knew about the fish.  I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I read the fish with my own eyes and put together some connections I heard within his narrative.  A few minutes later I was on my way home with four fillets (three ounces or so each), where I continued my investigation on line later that evening.

I quickly learned that there was no record on this food blog of my having ever prepared this fish in the past, so I looked elsewhere, still on line, for some indication of what kind of fish I had purchased.  My search however was surprisingly frustrated (there are tons of different ‘red fish’, perhaps just as many ‘red perch’, and, it seems, an equal number of ‘red ocean perch’). Finally, at around 9:30 tonight, in the recipe section of my own totally analog home library, I picked out a very thin manila folder which I had once marked,  perhaps both optimistically and naively, “Ocean Perch”.  There it was, staring me in the face, a handwritten note which pointed to a real recipe, in a real book, a recipe which turned out to be both familiar and promising.  I must have followed it some time in the past, even if I never made the blog, because the scrap of paper bore the significant notation, actually more of a scribble, “very, very good”.   A few hours later I was able to confirm that it really was.

The appearance, texture and the flavor of the fish reminded me of the delicious freshwater perch I had enjoyed while growing up around the Great (and smaller) Lakes in the Midwest – except for the herb part, and the red part.  I had even caught a few of them myself when I was little more than a toddler (although somebody less squeamish dealt with the hooks and the worms).

• four fillets of ocean perch, or ‘red perch’, from Pura Vida Seafood in the Union Square Greenarket, marinated on the counter for 25 minutes or so with a mixture of chopped herbs, minced garlic from Samascott Orchards, salt, freshly-ground pepper, and olive oil (the herbs were rosemary and oregano from Phillips Farm, parsley from Rogowski Farm, thyme from Keith’s Farm, sorrel from John D. Madura Farm, and tarragon and fresh crumbled bay leaves from Whole Foods), sautéed for about five minutes on the skin side, then two minutes on the other, removed from the pan and finished with a brushing of the marinade and a dusting of finely-chopped sorrel [the basic recipe is from Mark Bittman’s ‘ ‘Herb-marinated perch, cooked four ways’, which appears in his ‘Fish: The Complete Guide to Buying and Cooking‘]
• four ripe Maine cherry ‘cocktail’ tomatoes from Whole Foods, halved and added to the pan shortly after the fillets were turned
• kale from Rogowski Farm, chopped, wilted with olive oil in which lightly-crushed garlic from Samascott Orchards had been heated with a small amount of dried chiles, then seasoned with salt and freshly-ground pepper, and drizzled with more olive oil
• the wine was a South African White, Raats Original Chenin Blanc 2013, from Chelsea Wine vault
• the music was orchestral works composed by  Johann Christoph Friedrich Bach, the ninth son of Johann Sebastian

The three images below describe several stages in the perch preparation, beginning with the unwrapped raw fillets lying on a plate,

continuing with the fish marinating,

and ending with a view of the pan before they were removed to the plates

 

The addition of pea sprouts is the only thing that distinguishes this entrée, which is one of our favorites, from this or several other of its antecedents on this site, but it was also enough to bring it gently into this spring season.

• two monkfish tails from American Seafood Company, roasted on top of a bed of peeled, thinly-sliced and seasoned Russet potatoes from Samascott Orchards which had already been roasted (in a very generous amount of olive oil), with a lot of fresh bay leaves from West Side Market and the later addition of half a cup of Kalamata olives from Whole Foods, pits removed, then finished with a sprinkling of pea sprouts from Monkshood Nursery and Gardens
• the wine was a California white, Franc Dusac 2014 Chardonnay Mendocino, from Naked wines
• the music was the third act of Mozart’s ‘Idomoneo’, René Jacobs‘s recording

I hope I’ve never given the impression in this blog that the simpler pasta meals scattered among those which feature fish or meat are merely ‘palate cleansers’, but this meal should give the lie to any such thoughts.  Although it was almost totally an improvisation, in which I was able to take advantage of some ingredients I had on hand which I wanted to use while they were still fresh, the results were impressive, even if they might look pretty modest in any description, visual or written.

It’s a great vegetarian meal, and, had I spared the tablespoon of butter I used to brown the breadcrumbs, and instead used oil (very easily done), it would have been vegan as well.  Also very wine friendly.

I knew that I wanted to serve a pasta, but only after imagining the combination of ingredients did I realize that I had exactly the right pasta, and in exactly the right quantity, meaning a package of eight or so ounces of Afeltra ‘Vesuvio’ which I had opened a month earlier, half of its contents used for a pasta e ceci.   Any variety of this seriously-underappreciated root would do fine, but I had a bunch of tiny breakfast radishes whose greens I had included as a contorni in a meal served a few days ago, and I couldn’t imagine how I might better enjoy these micro roots.  Then there was the last of the Long Island lemon we had been enjoying for over a week, also some pea sprouts I was anxious to see used in a way which would show off both their delicate freshness and their pungency, and finally, the homemade breadcrumbs stored in the cupboard above the counter are always waiting to be a part of the right meal.

The most tedious and time-consuming assignment in the preparation of this meal was the cleaning of the dwarf radishes; everything else was a lark.

• a sauce composed of tiny breakfast radishes from Eckerton Hill Farms, cooked in a skillet in butter and olive oil until they were tender but still retained some bite, removed from the skillet and sliced cloves of tiny Rocambole garlic heads from Keith’s Farm added and heated along with a small amount of dried chili flakes, then two tablespoons of the juice of a lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island introduced and heated for only a bit, that sauce then mixed with Afeltra ‘Vesuvio’ pasta cooked al dente, tossed with a handful of slightly-chopped pea sprouts from Monkshood Nursery and Gardens, mixed with lemon zest, salt and pepper, served in two shallow pasta bowls, sprinkled with homemade breadcrumbs cooked earlier until golden brown
• the wine was a California (Lodi) white, F. Stephen Millier’s ‘Angel’s Reserve’ Pinot Grigio Lodi 2014, from Naked Wines
• the music was René Jacobs‘s recording of Mozart’s ‘Idomoneo’

I had picked up the last bunch, and only these four remained, loose, on the box; I should have grabbed every one, they were that delicious.

The delicious little ’18K Gold Nugget’ potatoes from Rick Bishop, of Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, are very hard to avoid including on a plate, especially if the other elements I’d chosen look like they might not quite make up a full entrée.  This meal marks their third appearance on this blog in only four days, and I actually do have other potatoes in the larder.

• a single 13-ounce fillet of cod from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, dried and lightly seasoned with salt and pepper, sautéed in olive oil for about 4 minutes on each side, removed, divided in half and placed on two plates, covered with a Provençal-like tomato sauce I had frozen when leftover from an earlier meal, then sprinkled with chopped parsley from Rogowski Farm
• some ’18K Gold Nugget’ (‘Nicola’ in this batch) potatoes from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, boiled in salted water, drained and steamed dry, rolled with a small amount of olive oil and freshly-ground black pepper, then tossed with a small handful of chopped pea shoots from Monkshood Nursery and Gardens
• purple mustard greens from Norwich Meadows Farm, another of the fresh greens their people had been surprised to discover under a New Jersey field high tunnel in very late March, wilted with oil which had warmed a halved clove of bruised garlic from Samascott Orchards, seasoned with salt and pepper, finished with a drizzle of oil
• the wine was a Spanish white, Vevi Rueda 2013
• the music was Jordi Savall’s ‘La Lira d’Espéria II. Galicia’ 

Note to self: Do not hesitate to bring water buffalo back into the kitchen.

 

I wasn’t really so much attracted to the novelty of water buffalo, but rather to the idea that the meat of this Italian ruminant might be both as delicious and as healthy as most of the traditional fare associated with the Italian peninsula.  I prepared it with almost a total minimum of fuss, in order to savor its flavor.  Absent only one quality, one which I absolutely do not require, that is, the very American demand for ‘melt-in-your-mouth’ palatability, I was not disappointed.  The taste was terrific, even if a tad more chewing was involved than with more conventional steaks.

About the vegetables:  The parsnips could not have been sweeter or more tastier, and the chard, although a long-absent and much-missed guest at our winter table, was welcome tonight even more for its burst of color and intense flavor.

• one New Jersey water buffalo 12-ounce New York strip steak from Riverine Ranch at the Union Square Greenmarket, thoroughly aired-dried on the kitchen counter for two hours before being placed on a very hot enameled grill pan for about eight minutes (turning once, both sides seasoned after first being seared), then allowed to rest for almost 10 minutes while kept warm, sliced into eight sections, drizzled with lemon juice from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, and some good olive oil, finally placed on two warm plates
• parsnips from Norwich Meadows Farm, scrubbed, scraped, and cut into 1/2″ slices, tossed with olive oil and salt, spread in a single layer onto an unglazed ceramic oven pan, dotted with butter (a fairly dainty process), roasted at 425º, turning once, then removed and seasoned with a little more salt and pepper, and sprinkled with chopped parsley from Rogowski Farm
• rainbow chard, which Norwich Meadows Farm had been surprised to discover under a high tunnel on their New Jersey acreage the day before, sautéed with olive oil and finished with Fantastic Gardens lemon, and crushed dried hot pepper seeds
• the wine was an Argentinian red, Accūro Mendoza Malbec 2013, from Chelsea wine vault
• the music was Schubert’s Symphony No. 3