Squeteague (aka ‘Weakfish’ or Sea/Ocean Trout). I’ve written it before: We love this fish.

I seem to have prepared it 3 times, in 3 different sizes, in the first post calling it ‘Weakfish’ but eventually I tagged it Squeteague, mostly out of my fondness for coastal New England and its Narragansett heritage [Narragansett: pesukwiteag, meaning ‘they give glue’, because glue is made from them (or was)].

I had originally planned on accompanying the fillets with fiddleheads alone, but when I had spread the furled fronds on the counter, I realized there really weren’t enough of them for that major role, and I reached for the basket where I had been storing some blue potatoes for over a month.

The first picture is of some of the fishmonger’s buckets, as I found them in the Greenmarket, under a scuffed plexi lid, showing, clockwise from the top left, cod, scallops, mackerel, and Squeteague.

The second shot is of some of the farmer’s foraged fiddleheads.

The third, of the blue potatoes, may look familiar: I’ve used the same shot before. I picked up the tubers at the Greenmarket on March 31, and I included a majority of them in the meal I prepared that night.

• two 8-ounce fillets of Squeteague (aka ‘Weakfish’ or Sea/Ocean Trout) from Blue Moon Fish Company, marinated for about half an hour on the counter in a mix of a little olive oil, one minced garlic clove from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, and 11 different herbs (yeah, I went overboard, especially just one would have actually been enough), including one large crushed fresh bay leaf from West Side Market, rosemary, chives, and oregano from Stokes Farm, sage from S. & S.O. Produce Farm, parsley from Norwich Meadows farm, mint from Phillips Farm, thyme from Eataly, lovage and cilantro from Windfall Farms, dill from Bodhitree Farm, after which the fillets were drained, sautéed or fried for about 2 minutes inside a lightly-oiled (one tablespoon), tin-lined heavy oval copper pan which had been pre-heated to medium-hot, skin-slide down first, then turned and cooked for another minute, arranged on the plates, the juices drizzled on top, garnished with micro red amaranth from Windfall Farms [I had originally intended to put the amaranth on the potatoes, but I realized at the last moment that they might almost disappear in their blue-purple hue)
• three ‘blue potatoes’ from Norwich Meadows Farm, boiled boiled in well-salted water, drained, dried in the still-warm vintage Pyrex glass pot, rolled in a little olive oil, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper
• one small basket of fiddlehead ferns from Tamarack Hollow Farm, blanched for 3 or 4 minutes, drained, dried, briefly sautéed with chopped wild garlic bulbs from Lani’s Farm that had already been warmed, and some chopped thyme from Eataly, finished with a squeeze of juice from a sweet local lemon form Fantastic Gardens of Long Island
• the wine was a French (Loire) white, Domaine Vincent Giraudon Primavera Côte Roannaise 2015, from Chelsea Wine Vault 
• the music was the album, ‘1700 – The Century of the Portuguese‘ (we are going to be in Portugal and Galicia in late may and early June, and had just finished watching

Dinner for two, assembled quickly last night (May 4) after a long day at an art fair.

• between one and two tablespoons of olive oil heated slowly inside a large high-sided tin-lined heavy copper pan with a crushed piece of dark habanada pepper, and a handful of wild garlic bulbs from Lani’s Farm, the garlic not allowed to cook fully, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, joined by half a dozen or so halved Kalamata olives olives from Whole Foods Market and a handful of pine nuts which had been slowly heated and browned earlier inside a small well-seasoned cast iron pan, a 10-ounce package of frozen Rana portobello-mushroom-and-ricotta-filled ravioli from Eataly, boiled inside a large pot of well-salted water for 2 minutes and drained, slipped into the copper pan and mixed well with the sauce, everything stirred together over a low flame, along with some of the reserved pasta water (in order to emulsify the liquid), mixed with chopped lovage from Windfall Farms, the pasta then arranged inside 2 shallow bowls, some olive oil drizzled on top and around the edges, the dish finished with a little micro coriander from Windfall Farms
• the wine was a California (Amador) red, made with the Portuguese Touriga grape, Ana Diogo-Draper Amador Touriga 2015, from Naked Wines
• the music was Franz Schmidt’s Symphony No. 2, Semyon Bychkov conducting the Vienna Philharmonic

As I wrote in my first outing with this original, we love our local Sfoglini pasta. On Tuesday I prepared a meal using the second half of a package of their Bronx brewery BxB radiators.

• 8 ounces of Sfoglini Pasta Shop‘s Bronx brewery BxB radiators (“spent grain from Bronx Rye Pale Ale, which is comprised of five different barley malts, resulting in a roasted barley finish”, according to the maker), carefully boiled to ‘safe territory’, that is, something between ‘too hard’ and ‘too mushy’, drained, tossed inside a large tin-lined heavy tall-sided copper pan in which a simple sauce had been created by warming two ramp bulbs from Max Creek Hatchery, chopped, with a bit of crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia until the alliums had mostly softened and given off a gentle aroma, before some upland cress from Paffenroth Gardens and the roughly-chopped green leaves of most of a bunch of ramps (Max Creek Hatchery) were added and stirred over a low to medium flame until barely wilted, with some reserved pasta water to emulsify the sauce, seasoned with a little salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, divided into 2 shallow bowls, a little olive oil drizzled around the edges of the pasta, some Parmigiano-Reggiano Vache Rosse from Eataly slivered over the top
• the wine was an Austrian (Kremstal) white, Steinig Grüner Veltliner Austria 2015, from Chelsea Wine Vault
• the music was from the album, ‘C. P. E. Bach: Symphonies & Concertos‘

Both parts of this meal were roasted. It’s a cooking process I won’t want to work with very often as the weather warms, but it has a lot going for it.

I don’t know that porgy has a season as such, but asparagus, or at least the best asparagus does. This was the best asparagus.

I normally go very easy on accoutrements for this noble vegetable, but I loosened my own constraints this time in order to add ramps, plus a few branches of thyme, to moderate the more exuberant tendencies of the these wonderful spring alliums, although these ‘wood leeks’ are actually pretty mild.

Rather than purchasing asparagus bunches already assembled by the farmer, I like ‘picking’ my own, in order to get a consistent size, and also, I suppose, to feel just a wee bit closer to the earth. Besides, I’m keeping some rubber band alive a little longer. I’d say they also look prettier that way for their portrait.

It was the best asparagus I’ve ever had, but who knows what that means? I know I’m at least safe in saying so, because I can’t actually be proven wrong.

As for the treatment of the fish, there was only one herb, some breadcrumbs, and a little lemon. I added a garnish of purple micro greens at the end, for a refreshing, raw element, but also to introduce a third color to the plates.

The fillets were therefore not disguised, and they were delicious – as fish, which is a good thing.

• two 7-ounce porgy fillets from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, scored with several very shallow slashes on the skin side, to prevent curling, put into a tin-lined copper au gratin dish, skin side down, sprinkled with chopped dill from Phillips Farm (although almost any fresh herb would do as well), sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, some homemade dry bread crumbs scattered lightly on top, and a bit of olive oil drizzled over all, placed in a 425º oven for about 12-15 minutes, removed, arranged on plates, drizzled with juice from a sweet local lemon grown by Dave at Fantastic Gardens of Long Island and finished with purple radish micro greens from Windfall Farms
• fourteen stalks (a little over a pound) of moderately-thick green asparagus spears from John D. Madera Farm, trimmed, the stems peeled, mixed with the white sections of 14 ramps from Dave of Max Creek Hatchery, rolled with a handful of thyme branches from Eataly in a little more than a tablespoon of olive oil, a little sea salt, and a bit of freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper inside a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan and roasted at 425º for about 15 to 20 minutes, with 6 or 8 green ramp leaf sections, roughly-chopped, thrown onto the top just before they had finished cooking, removed to 2 plates and drizzled with more of the juice from the local lemon used on the porgy
• the wine was an Austrian (Kremstal) white, Steinig Grüner Veltliner Austria 2015, from Chelsea Wine Vault
• the music was the album of contemporary chamber music, ‘Light-distance: Portuguese Wind Quintets‘

Sole is what many folks think of when they think of heavenly fish. It is heavenly, but I think its most empyrean aspect may be its texture. Yeah, divine, and I think the northwest Atlantic gray sole may be the finest of all.

We enjoyed it once again this past Friday night (April 28), in almost the simplest preparations imaginable.

• four 3-and-a-half-ounce gray sole fillets from Pura Vida Seafood, dried thoroughly, salted and brushed with a good white wine vinegar, sautéed in a olive oil and a bit of butter, turning once, then removed to 2 plates, the pan wiped with a paper towel before 2 or 3 tablespoons of Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter, 2 tablespoons or so of juice from a Fantastic Gardens of Long Island sweet local lemon, and a bit of micro fennel from Windfall Farms were introduced and allowed to heat for a minute or so, that sauce spread onto the sole, which was served with lemon quarters

• nearly a pound of small Red Norland Potatoes from Berried Treasures, boiled in well-salted water, drained, dried in the still-warm vintage Pyrex glass pot, rolled in a little butter, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, sprinkled with scissored chives from Stokes Farm, finished on the plates with a bit of with a small amount of homemade breadcrumbs (browned earlier in a little olive oil with a pinch of salt)

• flowering kale from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, drained, and braised/wilted inside a large, heavy, tin-lined copper pot in which two garlic cloves from Lucky Dog Organic Farm had been allowed to sweat over low heat in a little olive oil, the dish finished with a bit of crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, and a drizzle of olive oil
• The wine was a California (grapes from the Sacramento River Delta with a small amount of Viognier from Lodi) white, Miriam Alexandra Chenin Blanc California 2016, by Alexandra Farber, from Naked Wines
• the music was Anton Bruckner’s 1863-1869 Symphony No ‘0’, Riccardo Chailly conducting Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra

It was another celebratory dinner.  This one was the 26th anniversary of the evening Barry and I first met.

On the night in 1991 night celebrated this past Thursday (April 27), we had each been to different concerts with different good friends. These two had earlier agreed, each separately, with a second friend, to gather afterward at a relatively discrete (no windows, pub-ish) Chelsea queer watering hole, The Break. Somehow within this mathematical puzzle of 6 individuals, Barry and I were introduced to each other, as it were, through 2 degrees of separation.

I don’t remember anything else about that evening, other than that I was beguiled, and that we exchanged phone numbers.

We had tickets for a concert again on the night of this anniversary, but late in the afternoon we decided to enjoy a good meal at home instead. I defrosted some little lamb chops that I had brought home from the Greenmarket the week before. I may have gone slightly overboard on the number of vegetables with which I chose to accompany them, but they were a diverse lot.

Those sides included radishes,

whose greens were cooked separately, with equal amounts of upland cress,

and one small white-going-on-magenta head of cabbage.

• four small lamb chops (barely-3-ounces each) from Consider Bardwell Farm, dried thoroughly, cooked on a very hot enameled cast iron grill pan for about 5 or 6 minutes on each side, seasoned with salt and pepper after they were first turned over, finished with a squeeze of juice from a sweet local lemon (Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, in the Union Square Greenmarket), scattered with chopped rosemary from Stokes Farm (whose folks had recently returned from a winter hibernation), and drizzled with a little olive oil
• two Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods, halved, briefly grilled in the same pan after the chops had been removed, seasoned with salt an pepper, drizzled with olive oil
• one bunch of French Breakfast radishes from Eckerton Hill Farm, washed, the leaves removed and set aside (the little white ‘tails’ left on), sautéed in a little olive oil in a medium tin-lined copper skillet for a few minutes, or until they could be easily pierced with a thin metal skewer, some roughly-chopped wild garlic bulbs from Lani’s Farm added very near the end, when a little white wine was poured in and stirred until the liquid had evaporated, the radishes and garlic arranged on the plates and garnished with micro fennel from Windfall Farms
• radish greens, which had been removed earlier from the radishes themselves, together with upland cress from Paffenroth Gardens and one small head of white cabbage from Norwich Meadows Farm, wilted inside a large enameled cast iron pot in olive oil in which 2 bruised and halved garlic cloves fromLucky Dog Organic Farm Farm had first been allowed to sweat and begin to color, the greens seasoned with salt, pepper, part of one dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, crushed, then arranged on the plates with a little more olive oil drizzled on top

The lamb was preceded by a primi, the third, and final appearance of the conchiglie al forno prepared for the April 19th meal, once again embellished with a little ricotta, to make up for the slight cheese deficit when it was first prepared, and yes, I think this dish really does better each time it’s reheated.

• the wine throughout the meal was a California (Napa) red, Jac Cole Mosaico Napa Valley 2015, from Naked Wines
• the music throughout was an album of contemporary chamber works by the Portuguese composer, Luis Tinoco (we will be in Portugal in late May and early June, and we’re cramming for it)

I’ve said before that I don’t think Tilefish is very well known here, and that still seems surprising, since, above everything else it has great flavor and it remains a very good bargain.  Tilefish has a mild, sweet flavor, apparently shaped by what it largely feeds upon at the bottom of the Continental Shelf, and that includes crab, shrimp, and snails.

Tilefish catches, off Long Island at least, also seem to get high marks for sustainability, an additional encouragement, and the fish that I bring home always comes from small boats, not factories.

I’ve included this information while assuming that the Golden Tilefish, or Lopholatilus chamaelonticeps, pictured below, is the species whose fillets I purchased at the Greenmarket on Friday:

• three tablespoons of Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter allowed to melt inside a tin-lined oval copper au gratin pan in a 475ª oven until barely browned, 3 or 4 roughly-chopped ramp leaves and at least 3 tablespoons of 6 chopped herbs (rosemary from Stokes Farm, sage from S. & S.O. Produce Farm, parsley from Norwich Meadows Farm, dill and mint from Phillips Farm, and thyme from Eataly) scattered around the pan, 2 fillets of tilefish (7 ounces each) from Blue Moon Fish Company, rinsed, dried, seasoned with salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, placed inside, skinned side down, then roasted, turning once, for about 12 minutes, or until done, removed to the plates, sauced with the pan juices
• six Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods, halved, warmed in a little olive oil with some chopped wild garlic (bulbs and stems) from Lani’s Farm, seasoned with salt and freshly-ground pepper, sprinkled with scissored chives from Stokes Farm and garnished with a bit of some remaining chopped mixed herbs

• a small bunch of collards from Norwich Meadows Farm and a smaller amount of upland cress from Paffenroth Gardens, torn into small sections (most of the stems were tender enough to include in the cooking), 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, wilted inside a heavy oval enameled cast iron pot in which 4 small garlic cloves from from Lucky Dog Organic Farm had first been allowed to sweat in a bit of olive oil, a little crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia along with them, the greens finished with a little salt, freshly-ground pepper, a bit of sweet local lemon juice from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a California (Sonoma) white, ROX Scott Peterson Sonoma Coast Chardonnay 2015 from Naked Wines
• the music was Mozart’s Symphonies Nos. 21 and 23, plus Johann Christian Bach’s Symphony in G Minor, Op. 6, No. 6, and Grand Overtures, Op. 18, all performed by Academy for Ancient Music Berlin

I had a full bunch of ramps, purchased at the Greenmarket on Saturday, and I knew I could get more the next day, so I looked around for a pasta recipe which would not stint on these terrific wild spring alliums.

I went on line an hour before starting dinner, and I quickly found, ‘Spaghetti Pan-Fried with Ramps & Mint‘.

The ingredients were few, the process pretty simple, and I was astounded at how delicious – and complex – this pasta turned out to be. Some of the credit should probably go to my adding part one pepperoncino, but most of it was surely the formula itself and the quality of the ingredients.

The dish was VERY good, and it got even better over time and as it moved to room temperature. Lesson: do not eat in haste, and do not insist on hot food.

Otherwise, the recipe itself is in the link in the second paragraph above, and the several ingredients I used on this night are:

• eight ounces of a Neapolitan artisanal pasta, Afeltra spaghetto, from Eataly; one bunch of ramps ramps from Violet Hill Farm; a California (Sonoma) white, ROX Scott Peterson Sonoma Coast Chardonnay 2015 from Naked Wines; half of a crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia; and Parmigiano-Reggiano Vache Rosse from Eataly, both grated and slivered
• the wine was a California (Clarksburg) white, Karen Birmingham 2015 Pinot Grigio, also from Naked Wines
• the music was two major works by Joonas Kokkonen, his Symphonies Nos. 1 and 2, performed by the Finnish Radio Symphony conducted by Sakari Oramo

It’s a great fish, a simple recipe, and nothing should go wrong. But it did, a little: I somehow ended  up salting this beautiful cod fillet a bit too generously before I coated one side with herbed breadcrumbs and lowered it into the pan. It happens, but I’m more often guilty of undersalting, so I have no idea why it went the other way this time.

There’s actually something that can be done to recover from such accidents, and fortunately I had the antidote right on the counter this time: Lemon. A squeeze of lemon or a drizzle of a mild vinegar usually helps reduce the impact of an injudicious application of too much salt.

I had been storing the sunchokes for some time, but they were in great condition; I had brought home the upland cress only 2 days before and it was super shape. Both tasted terrific, and their seasoning was fine.

• one 14-ounce fresh cod fillet from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, brought to room temperature, seasoned with salt on both sides, then only the top side (former skin side) brushed with a little French dijon mustard which had been mixed with a very small amount of water to make it easier to spread, the two pieces dipped into a mixture of homemade breadcrumbs mixed with some finely-chopped parsley from Norwich Meadows farm, browned briefly on the side coated with the mustard and breadcrumb mix in a little olive oil inside a tin-lined copper au gratin pan, transferred to a 325º oven and cooked until the fish began to flake (only about 9 minutes this time, because the pieces were not really thick) [the recipe is based on Thomas Keller’s ‘Wild Cod en Persillade‘]

• sunchokes (about 14 ounces), small ‘rootlings’ removed, trimmed, scrubbed, sliced by hand very thinly (1/8-1/4 inch), tossed with barely a tablespoon of olive oil (I think the small amount is somewhat critical to ensuring maximum crispiness), sea salt, freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, a bit of crushed orange-gold habanada pepper, a few fresh sage leaves from from S. & S.O. Produce Farm, and two halved bay leaves from Westside Market, then spread in one layer onto 2 large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pans (a single pan wasn’t enough, since they had been cut so thinly and they really should show a lot of surrounding surface to become crisp), roasted at 425º for about 30 minutes, or until they were brown, tender, and crispy on the edges, arranged on 2 plates and sprinkled with purple radish micro greens from Windfall Farms

• part of a bunch of wild garlic from Lani’s Farm, bulbs and stems, roughly chopped, heated inside a medium tin-lined heavy copper pan with a little olive oil, joined slowly, stirring, by 2 handfuls of upland cress from Paffenroth Gardens until the greens were only partially wilted, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper
• the wine was a California (Napa) white, David Marchesi Napa Valley Sauvignon Blanc 2016, from Naked Wines
• the music was the album, ‘Ernst Krenek: Complete Piano Concertos’, with Kenneth Woods conducting the English Symphony Orchestra, and, variously, the soloists Mikhail Korzhev, Eric Huebner, Nurit Pacht, and Adrian Partington

It was conchiglie al forno; costolette di vitello balsamico; carote, or more precisely, and in English, baked shells with mushrooms and radicchio; one veal chop finished with balsamic vinegar, wilted radicchio, thyme-roasted carrots with micro fennel.

I had half of the conchiglie al forno remaining from April 19th, and I really wanted to use it for a couple of primi, to some interesting secondo, which in my mind meant small meat portions. On Sunday it happened that I had a veal shoulder chop in the freezer, a portion I had already been concerned about because I knew it was smaller than what we would normally share. It seemed the perfect choice to follow the baked pasta.

It was.

Because I had accidentally stinted on cream when I had originally assembled the dish (baked pasta rule #1: you will probably never have enough cream), I added a little ricotta to the antipasto before I put it into the oven to heat up, and I drizzled a little olive oil around it once it was in the serving bowls.

That was the meal’s virtually automatic primi.

The second course may have been a perfect followup to the first, since I imagine both dishes to be very Tuscan.

• one thick 14-ounce pasture-raised veal shoulder chop, or what was described more precisely by Tony, a young butcher who was tending the farm stand that afternoon, as “a shoulder chop close to the ribs, which looks like, and could be described as rib eye”, from Consider Bardwell Farm, brought to room temperature, seasoned well with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, placed inside a small oval enameled cast iron pan which had been coated with a film of olive oil then allowed to get very hot, seared over medium-high heat for about 6 minutes per side, allowed to rest on a small warm platter for 4 minutes or so, the meat removed from the bones and divided into 2 servings and arranged on the plates where it was drizzled with a teaspoon or so of good balsamic vinegar, garnished at the side with purple micro radish greens from Windfall Farms
• two varieties of carrots, one of which I believe is properly described as ‘Purple Haze’, a hybrid, from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, trimmed, scrubbed, and dried, tossed in a very little olive oil with salt, pepper and thyme branches from Eataly, spread inside a medium seasoned Pampered Chef pan and baked at 400º until tender (the time would depend on size; these took about 20-25 minutes), finished with micro fennel from Windfall Farms
• a little radicchio from Eataly, from part of a head that had not gone into the preparation of the conchiglie al forno, warmed slightly in olive oil and seasoned with salt and pepper,
• the wine was a California (Santa Ynez Valley) red, Jacqueline Bahue Pinot Noir Sta. Rita Hills 2015, from Naked Wines
• the music was the entire album, of late 17th-century German music for the theater, ‘Biber: Battalia / Locke: The Tempest / Zelenka: Fanfare’, the performance by Il Giardino Armonico