I had these little eggs, which I knew would make a good appetizer, especially if they were slipped onto some extraordinary toast. For the main course, I thought of having something pretty simple while still a little wintry. I headed for Luca Donofrio‘s fresh pasta shop inside Eataly in the afternoon, and there I found some thick fresh spelt pasta which I knew would be delicious with only some butter, a special seasoning, and some Parmesan cheese.

• seven quail eggs (I served 4 of the 7, seen in the picture above, to Barry) from Violet Hill Farm, remaining from a similar meal the week before fried in a little butter and carefully transferred onto toasts of an Eric Kayser thinly-sliced torsade de aux olives (organic flour, liquid levin, olive oil, black and green olives, herbs of Provence), the eggs sprinkled with maldon salt, freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, a pinch of dried dill, and scissored fresh chives scattered over all, the toasts served with upland cress from Two Guys from Woodbridge dressed lightly with a good olive oil

The second course was actually even simpler than the antipasto.

• fresh spelt spaghettone (made with Wild Hive Farm local whole grain spelt, durum flour, eggs, water) from Luca Donofrio‘s fresh pasta shop inside Eataly served in a sauce of melted Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter, a little crushed golden home-dried habanada pepper (acquired fresh last season from Norwich meadows Farm), some freshly-ground black pepper, the pasta tossed with Parmigiano-Reggiano Vache Rosse from Eataly

 

• the wine throughout was an Italian (Apulia) white, Tufjano Bianco, Colli della Murgia – 2013,from Astor Wines
• the music throughout was ‘Monteverdi’s 1640 opera, ‘Il ritorno d’Ulisse in patria’, Rene Jacobs conducting the Concerto Vocale

I’ve cooked the noble Atlantic tilefish a number of times, usually following this Melissa Clark recipe, but on Friday I decided to go a very different route. I began with Mark Bittman’s general outline for preparing most any white fish fillets roasted with potatoes, but didn’t stop there.

There were potatoes.

The entire meal, except for the fresh watercress, was cooked inside one glazed terra cotta oven pan.

• one pound of Carola potatoes from Dave Harris’s Max Creek Hatchery in the Union Square Greenmarket, sliced about 1/4″ thick, tossed with 3 tablespoons of olive oil, salt, and pepper, arranged overlapping inside a glazed ceramic pan and roasted in a 425º oven for 10 minutes, the pan then turned around and left for an additional 10 minutes, or until the potatoes had begun to turn brown (perhaps even a bit beyond that point), removed from the oven and scattered with one tablespoon of chopped fresh sage from Eataly, one teaspoon (or more) of minced garlic from Healthway Farms & CSA, and a bit of some home-dried golden habanada, after which two 7.5-ounce tilefish fillets [Lopholatilus Chamaeleonticeps, aka Great Northern Tilefish, Golden Tilefish, etc.] from Pure Vida Seafood, seasoned with salt and pepper, were placed on the top top of the potatoes, the fish drizzled with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, and placed inside the oven until cooked through (10 minutes, or a little more), removed to the plates, garnished with the pan juices and a little chopped parsley from Eataly
• a bit of baby red watercress from Windfall Farms, dressed with a good Campania olive oil (Campania D.O.P. Penisola Sorrentina ‘Syrenum’)
• 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 Mozart’s 1781 opera, ‘Idomeneo’, René Jacobs conducting the Freiburger Barockorchester

I’ve always described pollock as a wonderful fish, and this time, more than ever before, on Wednesday it looked as lovely as it tasted.

The image above is of one serving of the cooked fish, and below is a picture of what the fillet (already divided into 2 pieces) looked like just before being put into the oven:

If you’re paying any attention at all, you will have noticed what I myself did notice at the time: There doesn’t seem to be any ground black pepper on the top of the fish (there was also no salt, but that’s less apparent in a photo). It seems that I was so absorbed in deciding on what I would include on top of the fillet this time that I forgot the two most essential elements.

The fact that there were so many other flavors and seasonings was almost enough to make us overlook the absence of pepper and salt, but not quite. We added both to the top of the fish after it had been served, but I think the flavor had not been compromised by the delay; in fact, I think I may have enjoyed the cleaner, milder taste, at least this one time.

The vegetables could hardly have been more simple (and I remembered to season them before they reached the table).

• one pollock fillet (13.25 oz) from American Seafood Company in the Union Square Greenmarket, rinsed, dried, cut into 2 sections, seasoned with salt and pepper [if cook is paying attention (see my introductory paragraph)] and placed in a buttered baking dish, spread with a mixture of some soft butter, zest from a local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, slices of a spring onion from Norwich Meadows Farm, and a large pinch of crushed golden home-dried Habanada pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm (acquired fresh last season), baked for about 15 minutes at 350º, removed to two plates, spread with the cooking juices, if any, and sprinkled with a small number of salted capers along with the oil in which they had earlier been heated briefly after being rinsed, drained, and dried, the pollock finished with a garnish of snow pea sprouts from Windfall Farms
• two Dark Red Norland potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, scrubbed, boiled, unpeeled, in heavily-salted water until barely cooked through, drained, halved, dried in the still-warm vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot in which they had cooked, sprinkled with freshly-ground black pepper, and a little salt, if needed, stirred with a couple tablespoons of rich Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter, arranged on the plates with the fish and sprinkled with scissored chives from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• a decent amount of sweet young  spinach rosettes from Phillips Farms, their bases trimmed, washed in several changes of water, drained, gently wilted (that is, not reduced too far) inside a large enameled cast iron pot in a little olive oil in which one large clove of garlic from Healthway Farms & CSA had first been allowed to sweat, seasoned with salt, freshly-ground black pepper, a little crushed dried Itria-Sirissi chili (peperoncino di Sardegna intero) from Buon Italia, drizzled with olive oil and lemon juice
• the wine was a French (Bordeaux) white, Château Grand Renard Blaye Côtes de Bordeaux Blanc 2015
• the music was Pietro Antonio Cesti’s 1656 opera, ‘Orontea’, René Jacobs conducting the Concerto Vocale [more on the work here]

It was Saint Valentine’s day, so the dinner had to be a little special, and it wouldn’t hurt if it were also a little red-ish (as it turned out, through all 3 courses – and the wine as well).

• seven ounces of Solex Catsmo (Wallkill, Orange County, NY) smoked rainbow trout from Eataly, arranged on the plates with Ronnybrook Farm Dairy crème fraîche mixed with lemon zest, lemon juice, fresh chives from Two Guys from Woodbridge, and dried Sicilian dill from Buon Italia (at least I think that’s the description and the source), accompanied by fresh upland cress, also from Two Guys from Woodbridge, drizzled with a good Campania olive oil (Campania D.O.P. Penisola Sorrentina ‘Syrenum’)
• a crispy ‘Baguette Monge‘ from Eric Kayser, which we tore with our hands, as usual

• eight ounces of fresh lasagna sheets from Luca Donofrio‘s fresh pasta shop inside Eataly, cooked for 3 minutes only inside a large pot of lightly-salted water, the sheets removed and either placed in a large bowl of cold water until needed, at which time they would be drained and dried, or else place on one or more layers of clean towels or parchment paper arranged on a baking sheet (or 2 baking sheets, of necessary), an 8″ x 12″ glazed ceramic baking dish buttered evenly on the bottom and sides, a little of a Bechamel [It. Besciamella] sauce (not too thick) prepared earlier and seasoned with salt, black pepper, and Nigerian cayenne pepper spooned evenly on the bottom, a layer of pasta arranged on top of that, touching all of the sides of the pan, more of the sauce, then, in layers, a portion of 4 ounces of diced local Lioni Latticini mozzarella, from Whole Foods; a portion of 4 ounces of an absolutely delicious Recla Speck Alto Adige IGP, from Bolzano, purchased at Eataly, cut into matchstick pieces; 2 peeled, quartered, cored and thinly-sliced Rushing River Stemilt Red D’Anjou pears from Eataly; then more of the sauce, continuing in the same order until all the ingredients were used up, ending with a layer of pasta, and the last of the Bechamel on top of it, the pan cover with aluminum foil and placed in the oven for about 15 minutes, the foil then removed, the oven turned up a little after a very few more minutes, to make the edges of the pasta crisp, the lasagna removed from the oven when the aromas had become obvious for a couple of minutes, then let rest for 3 or 4 minutes

• a Red Concord cake for 2 (sort of a chocolate dacquoise, with, I think, a mousse, meringue, and a gooey strawberry filling as well) from Breads Bakery on East 16th Street [the picture shows the portion we shared]
• the wine throughout was a special pink French (Champagne) sparkling rosé, A Margaine Champagne Brut Rosé
• the music throughout was a brilliant valentine, Mozart’ ‘Le Nozze Di Figaro’, René Jacobs conducting the Concerto Cologne and the Cologne Collegium Vocale

Yes.

A delicious winter picnic at home, with a very heavy German accent (the picnic, that is).

Unusual for this site, the leading image (here the only one) is of the entire old birch table, rather than just one of the plates: I thought it this view would cover more ground, so to speak.

The breads were nearly as important to the meal as the fish and the meat. The sturdy New York state sourdough combined the attributes of a traditional German bread with varieties introduced more recently into a culture looking for even more diversity in foods already very wholesome.

The pumpernickel however (on the upper right in the picture), with its “characteristic deep brown color, sweet, dark chocolate, coffee flavor, and earthy aroma” [a description found in Wikipedia], and especially when it is in this intense, compact form, is totally German. Its addictive virtues (along with those of all the other varieties of thin, heavy, moist Vollkornbrot), made it one of the first things I fell in love with when I arrived in Hannover in June, 1961; I ate it like candy. I think these pre-packaged treasures, of any grain, are the only commercial breads – and the only sliced breads – I would ever expect to bring home.

• one small (8-ounce) local (Long Island) whole smoked eel [Aal, in German] from P.E. & D.D. Seafood [for a picture, scroll down here], skinned, head removed, boned, and cut into small pieces, combined in a bowl with the zest and juice of one organic lemon and a small handful of scissored fresh chives from Two Guys from Woodbridge, allowed to rest a bit, and then, when ready to serve, sprinkling the eel with salt to taste, then a mix of crème fraîche from Ronnybrook Farm Dairy and a generous amount of grated horseradish root, both from Eataly, swiped across lightly-toasted and fairly thin slices of a sourdough wheat and rye bread with sunflower and flax seeds from Hawthorne Valley Farm, then spooning the eel with lemon and chives on top of the layer of cream
• thin slices of Lachsschinken from Schaller & Weber, twisted on the tines of a fork, arranged on a small glass plate, served with slices of an incredibly rich imported German whole grain pumpernickel (Delba-Backbetrieb)
• a little undressed upland cress, from Two Guys from Woodbridge, to be added to both canapés
• the wine was a German (Pfalz) white, Friedrich Becker Pinot Blanc 2013, from our much-missed former neighborhood wine shop, Appellation Wine & Spirits
• the music, on the eve of Saint Valentine’s day, was Georg Philipp Telemann’s 1726 opera ‘Orpheus’ [full german title: Die wunderbare Beständigkeit der Liebe oder Orpheus (surprisingly for the era, most of the opera is in German, thanks to the guten Bürger of Hamburg, who did not depend on highfalutin princes, for whom it was first produced, in concert form, at the Theater am Gänsemarkt)], this recording by the Academy for Ancient Music Berlin, and the Berlin RIAS Chamber Chorus [interesting note about the piece, from the opera’s Wikipedia entry: “Most of the work is in German but it also contains passages in French and Italian drawn from famous operas by Handel and Jean-Baptiste Lully. The music to these words is Telemann’s own, however. The manuscript score of Orpheus was not rediscovered until the late 20th century.”

I really try to keep our carbon footprint down, but sometimes things conspire against me. This tiny rack of lamb looked pretty sweet in the store, and it was also so, well, ..accessible, when I passed its display the other day. I found it hard to resist, even though I had planned on preparing a pasta Sunday night.

Besides, if I can rationalize going to New Zealand for venison – and I do – why should I have a problem with a tiny rack of lamb? New Zealand knows how to supply both very good venison and very good young lamb, each of which seems beyond the ken of American producers (or American law).

The vegetables however were about as local as they come, the sweet potatoes from Blairstown, New Jersey, and the cabbage from Winfield New York.

• one 18-ounce rack of New Zealand lamb, from Whole Foods, the bones Frenched, brought to room temperature and rubbed with a mixture of chopped garlic from Healthway Farms, chopped rosemary from Whole Foods, sea salt, and freshly-ground black pepper, then allowed to rest for almost an hour before being seared on all sides inside a small oval enameled cast iron pan, placed in a 450º oven for about 15 minutes, or until medium rare, cut into 2 sections and placed on 2 plates, where a little juice from a local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island was squeezed over the top, followed by a drizzle of olive oil
• about a pound of Japanese sweet potatoes from Race Farm, unpeeled, but washed thoroughly, cut on the diagonal into one-half-inch pieces, tossed in a bowl with olive oil, salt, pepper, and 2 large garlic cloves, arranged on a large well-seasoned Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic oven pan, placing the garlic on the top of potato slices, and roasted for about 35 minutes
• one small head of Savoy cabbage from Northshire Farm, washed, quartered, cored, sliced into one-half-inch ribbons, sautéed in a scant tablespoon of olive oil inside a medium heavy, tin-lined copper pot until wilted but still crunchy, stirring occasionally, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, and a little more than a teaspoon of toasted cumin seed mixed in, finished with half a teaspoon of Columela Rioja 30 Year Reserva sherry vinegar, the mix stirred and cooked another couple of minutes
• the wine was a excellent California (Sonoma) red, Ken and Derek Zinfandel Dry Creek Valley Sonoma County 2015, from Naked Wines
• the music was Poul Ruders’ 2004-2005 opera, ‘Kafka’s Trial’, the Royal Danish Orchestra and the Royal Danish Opera Choir conducted by Thomas Søndergård

This would have been a pretty routine Sunday breakfast except for the goose eggs.

Picture below: A young comparison shopper, who then moved on, giving me an opening.

I’ve never tasted a goose egg, so when I spotted [just one] at a stall in the Greenmarket on Saturday, I was happy to learn that the farmer had more. One of them ended up on each of our plates at breakfast the next day, in the space where there would normally have been 3 chicken eggs. That’s a 6-inch teaspoon in the picture below.

The first thing about goose eggs is that they take more than just a gentle tap on the side of the pan to crack open (on my first try I messed up the yoke, and the second, almost).

The second thing about goose eggs is they’re delicious, and not all funky.

• the ingredients for the meal were 2 goose eggs from Quattro’s Game & Poultry Farm, smoked bacon from Flying Pigs Farm, dried golden habanada pepper (from fresh peppers purchased last summer from Norwich Meadows Farm), Tellicherry pepper, Maldon salt, lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge, baby leek from Norwich Meadows Farm, Gotham Greens Rooftop packaged basil and Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods, olive oil, Kerrygold butter, and lightly-toasted sourdough bread (rye flour, sunflower and flax seeds) from Hawthorne Valley
• the music was Haydn’s ‘Stabat Mater’, The English Concert and Choir, directed by  Trevor Pinnock

 

This swordfish dish has become very familiar on this site, except that last night the fresh herb was mint rather than the usual oregano, and the micro ‘greens’ which finished it were chard, which may never have made an appearance here.

The vegetable was almost totally new to our table: Ten months ago I had served Kale sprouts (the proprietary name is ‘Kalettes’©), a hybrid of kale and Brussels sprouts which grows on stalks like Brussels sprouts. Last April I had treated them as I would almost any greens, wilted with garlic in olive oil. This time I popped them in the oven, and, voila! puffs of kale chips!

When they came out of the oven they looked like Brussels sprouts that had exploded, like popcorn. They tasted like their botanical heritage: a mix of Brussels sprouts and kale. The texture was that of kale chips, which is to say, sensational! We ate them with our fingers (they were impossibly delicate).  Addictively crunchy, but, Unlike kale chips, each sprout finished with a little chewy bit in the center.

• one swordfish steak from the Seatuck Fish Company stall in the Union Square Greenmarket, purchased direct from the owner, fisherman Rob Williams, cut into 2 pieces, marinated for about half an hour in a mixture of olive oil, chopped fresh mint from Eataly, a pinch or 2 of golden home-dried habanada pepper (the fresh peppers acquired fresh last season from Norwich meadows Farm) a tiny bit of crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, and a small amount of a thinly-sliced baby leek from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, drained well and covered with a coating of dried homemade bread crumbs, pan-grilled above a fairly high flame for about 3-4 minutes on each side, removed, seasoned with salt and pepper, removed to the plates, scattered with a little of the freshly-cut green part of the leek used in the marinade, sprinkled with a little local lemon juice from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, scattered with some micro chard from Two Guys from Woodbridge, and drizzled with olive oil
• a couple handfuls of kale sprouts, a hybrid of kale and brussels sprouts, from Northshire Farm, stems trimmed, the sprouts washed, dried as well as was convenient, tossed in a bowl with a bit of olive oil (little more than a tablespoon), some Maldon salt, and a bit of freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, spread onto a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, baked for 10 or 15  minutes at 450º to 475º, or until the aromas arising suggested they were done
• the wine was a Spanish (Rueda) white, Naia D.O. Rueda 2014, from Verdejo old vines
• the music was Philip Glass’s 3rd and 5th string quartets, performed by the Smith String Quartet

It was a snow day. It felt like a holiday. It was also pretty cold outside (and we still haven’t turned on the heat inside), so a warm kitchen felt right. I had all the makings for a traditional German entrée inside the apartment, and we also had some terrific beer.

We had a terrific, traditional German dinner. Also, nearly everything in it came from farms in the area (our area, not Germany, which somehow makes it even more special).

We usually drink wine with our meals at home, partly because we both much prefer draught beer to bottled, but two of the beers we spotted at Schaller & Weber last week were very special to us: These Rauchbiere are from the area of Northern Bavaria from which my mother’s family emigrated to Wisconsin almost 175 years ago. In addition, both unusual and quite rare, we had thoroughly enjoyed them at Schankerla, the beautiful Brauereiausschank of the brewery itself, 5 years ago, with Barry’s mother, and we had never forgotten those pleasures. With some of the entrées however, we also had enjoyed good Franken wine, in a Bocksbeutel.

Smoked bier is not a gimmick, but an ancient tradition which continues today, and from our own experience alone, with good reason. Five years ago Barry described his first taste, “Nice and smoky like bacon in a glass.”

My maternal great-great-grandparents, who were from Franconia, but not Bamberg itself, may never have had Rauchbier. If they had, they might never have left.

• one 16-ounce glass jar of sauerkraut (simply cabbage and salt) from Millport Dairy Farm, drained and very well-rinsed in several changes of cold water, drained again and placed in a large enameled cast iron pot with one chopped onion from Tamarack Hollow Farm, one chopped parsley root (in lieu of the more traditional carrot) from Norwich Meadow Farm, half a dozen whole allspice berries and an equal number of Tellicherry peppercorns, a little salt, 2 Sicilian bay leaves from Buon Italia, about 8 ounces of beer (a bottle of Peroni, which had already been opened and kept in the refrigerator, some of it having been used in an earlier meal), a little water as needed, and a tablespoon of olive oil, all brought to a boil and then simmered over a low flame, stirring occasionally, for about half an hour, covered, and then uncovered for 20 or 30 minutes more before two 9-ounce smoked pork chops from Schaller & Weber, having first been briefly seared on both sides inside a dry cast iron pan, were buried in the sauerkraut, heated for about 20 minutes, the chops and sauerkraut arranged on 2 plates and sprinkled with chopped fresh parsley from Eataly
• a small pot of some pretty good ‘Organic German Mustard’ from Whole Foods served on the side
• two Dark Red Norland potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, scrubbed, boiled unpeeled in heavily-salted water until barely cooked through, drained, halved, dried in the still-warm vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot in which they had cooked, a couple tablespoons of rich Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter [with 12 grams of fat per 14 grams, or each tablespoon of butter; American butter almost always has only 11 grams, which makes a surprising difference in taste and texture], the Saltzkartoffeln arranged on the plates with the chops and the sauerkraut, and sprinkled with homemade breadcrumbs which had first been browned in a little butter
• the beer was from Germany (Franconia), two different versions of a very special Bamberg Rauchbier (smoked bier), Aecht Schlenkerla Rauchbier Märzen, and Aecht Schlenkerla Eiche Dopper Bock, from Schlenkerla, in Bamberg, both purchased at Schaller & Weber here on 2nd Avenue
• the music was, no surprise, Georg Solti’s 1959 recording of Wagner’s 1854 opera, ‘Das Rheingold’, with the Vienna Philharmonic

I have no idea how professional chefs manage to reproduce the same dishes over and over again; I’ve used this same tuna recipe more often than I can count, and it turns out at least a little different each time, even without half trying.

But then, reproducing the same dinner happens to be exactly what I’m never trying to do at home.

As for an accompaniment to the tuna, I had realized early on that I didn’t really have enough collard greens left from a bunch whose largest portion had been put into service for a previous meal, so I decided to add a second vegetable, some radishes I had almost forgotten were in the crisper, and to add their greens to the collards, or at least those that had still retained their freshness.

The fruits of this improvisation – and good home economy – were delicious, and colorful as well.

• one 12-ounce tuna steak from American Seafood Company in the Union Square Greenmarket (caught on Scott Rucky’s fishing vessel, ‘Dakota’), cut into 2 triangular pieces, tops and bottoms rubbed with a mixture of a tablespoon or so of dry Sicilian fennel seed from Buon Italia and a little crushed dried Itria-Sirissi chili (peperoncino di Sardegna intero), also from Buon Italia, the two having been ground together with mortar and pestle, the surfaces also seasoned with salt and freshly-ground pepper, before they were pan-grilled for only a little more than a minute or so on each side and finished with both a good squeeze of the juice of some tiny local lemons from Fantastic Gardens of New Jersey and a drizzle of olive oil
• a small bunch of ‘French breakfast’ radishes from Eckerton Hill Farm, cleaned and scrubbed, some of the stem retained, sautéed over medium-high heat in a little olive oil inside a heavy tin-lined copper skillet until they had begun to soften and color, seasoned with salt and pepper, sprinkled with fresh lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• a modest amount of tender collard greens from Phillips 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 heavy oval enameled cast iron pot in which one large quartered clove of garlic from Tamarack Hollow Farm had first been allowed to sweat in some olive oil, the collards joined halfway through by some of the greens of the radish roots, adding a little of the reserved water along the way as necessary, finished with salt, pepper, a little of the same crushed dried Sardinian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a Spanish (Galicia) white, Martin Codax Rias Baixas Albarino Burgans 2015, from Philippe Wines
• the music was Roger Reynolds, the pretty awesome, ‘Odyssey’ (1989-92, for 2 singers, ensemble, and computer sound), from ‘The Paris Pieces’