something to keep up one’s sleeve, for emergencies, whether or not the emergencies involve unexpected guests

 

It’s always the same simple recipe, worked by the same cook, and in the same kitchen, but it turns out a little differently each time, and not just in its appearance.

I have to assume the source of most, it not all of the ingredients was different, but this encounter with a very basic recipe differed significantly from an earlier preparation, and also from any of the many other times we’ve enjoyed it over the years.  I usually turn to this Mark Bittman minimal ‘quick meal’ after we’ve been out until quite late, when there’s no time to prepare anything more ambitious. Note that there are others, equally as handy.

We never get tired of it.  It’s probably a little like the kind of reanimation that comes upon hearing a familiar piece of music, perhaps a favorite, in different performances, even if the principle players might remain the same.

• Bittman’s instructions for this meal, as included in his, “Summer Express: 101 Simple Meals Ready in 10 Minutes or Less”, read, “Put a large can of chickpeas and their liquid in a medium saucepan. Add some sherry, along with olive oil, plenty of minced garlic, smoked pimentón (I used ‘pikant’ this time) and chopped Spanish chorizo.”  (I used Olé ‘Spanish Style Dry Cured Paprika Chorizo, made in the U.S., from Brooklyn Fare, on Schermerhorn Street, which we had opicked up oin the way home from a performance one block away, and garlic from Norwich Meadows Farm)
• the wine was a Spanish (Murcia) red, Olivares Altos De la Hoya Monastrell 2012
• the music was the Piano Concerto No 3 of Nikos Skalkottas

It’s very hard for me to imagine anyone dreaming up this recipe for the first time.  It wouldn’t seem to be a natural approach for preparing any fish, but its author, Mark Bittman, says, “The recipe can be finished with almost any firm fish fillet.”   Here we have a piece, or pieces, of a familiar, undramatic white fish fillet, and slices of white potato, paired with tons of bay leaves and almost a cup of the strongest, most bitter black olives around. The whole idea seems so counter-intuitive, and yet, except for approaches that are even more simple, like this one, I consider it one of the best fish recipes I’ve ever come across.  It’s also one of the easiest, and nearly the most foolproof.

• Three monkfish fillets from Blue Moon Fish Company, weighing just under a total of a pound, and almost a cup of pitted black oil-cured olives, roasted on top of a bed of thinly-sliced and seasoned German Carola potatoes (yellow-fleshed, buttery) from Berried Treasures Farm which had already been roasted in the same pan, until slightly crispy, with a generous amount of olive oil and 15 or so bay leaves from Westside Market, the monkfish finished with a sprinkling of chopped bronze fennel from Norwich Meadows Farm
• a small salad of wild arugula from Lani’s Farm, dressed with good olive oil, a small squeeze of organic lemon, salt, and freshly-ground black pepper, topped with one tiny heirloom tomato, segmented, from Berried Treasures
• the wine was a French (Rhone) white, Côtes du Rhône Samorëns Ferraton Père & Fils 2013
• the music was Sibelius, Symphony No. 2, with Paavo Berglund conducting the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra, which premiered it in 1899, when it was conducted by the composer

Yes, it seem that this meal was genuinely vegan, but we only realized it after we had sat down to it (which tell us all something about our usual dining habits).  In any event, it was really, really good, and also an excellent companion to a good bottle of wine, something I would worry about if I were ever to give up all animal products.

The recipe was my own invention, representing both what I had on hand and my almost insatiable appetite for excellent artisanal pasta, also always on hand.

• two finely-sliced garlic cloves from Norwich Meadows Farm sautéed in olive oil in a deep enameled pot large enough to hold the pasta once it was cooked, followed by a tablespoon or so of dry fennel seed, heated until pungent, 2 thinly-sliced medium red onions, also from Norwich Meadows Farm, added and stirred until almost fully soft, 2 handfuls of very small ‘lunchbox’ peppers from Norwich Meadows Farm, plus 3 late-season (and therefore pretty mild) thin Cayenne red peppers from Oak Grove Plantation, each seeded, deveined, and halved or quartered and also sautéed until tender, the completed mix seasoned with salt and freshly-ground black pepper, combined in the sauce pot with cooked and drained Setaro penne rigatoni from Buon Italia (about fourteen ounces of a larger package), including some of the reserved pasta water, which was emulsified over low heat, the whole tossed with fresh chopped oregano from Rise & Root Farm
• the wine was an Italian (Tuscany) white, Villa Antinori Toscana 2013
• the music was Sibelius, Symphony No. 1, with Paavo Berglund conducting the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra, which premiered it in 1899, conducted by the composer

The preparation of the skate is familiar to both of us, but it was one of the best ever, the fish cooked just right, the polenta coating perfectly crispy, and the bronze fennel innovation gave a favorite a subtle twist.

Note that the biggest challenge in preparing this dish is the delicacy of the skate: It’s always difficult to keep the pieces in tact, but don’t worry, as the sauce can work wonders in disguising any aesthetic inadequacies.

• small skate ‘wings’ from P.E & D.D. Seafood, dredged in coarse polenta from Citarella which had been seasoned with salt and freshly-ground pepper, fried very briefly (3-4 minutes on the first side, a bit less on the other) in a bit of olive oil until golden brown, removed from the pan and (ideally) placed on warm plates, the heat below the pan turned down, knobs of butter, some chopped shallots and finely-minced garlic from Norwich Meadows Farm added, the allium stirred and cooked (‘sweated’) briefly, the flame then turned off entirely, and lemon juice, chopped bronze fennel from Norwich Meadows Farm and a bit of chopped parsley from Tamarack Hollow Farm added to the pan along with a little more butter, all of it stirred once again until the butter melted, the sauce then scattered/poured over the fish
• golden or orange cherry tomatoes from Berried Treasures, halved, then dressed with a good olive oil, salt, freshly-ground black pepper, drops of white balsamic vinegar, and chopped tarragon from Stokes Farm
• the wine was a California (Napa) white, Matthew Iaconis Napa Valley Chardonnay 2014 (a Burgundy style, it’s Matt’s wine, and comes to us via Naked Wines)
• the music was an entire album of flute concertoes and symphonies by Friedrich II Hohenzollern

I had some eggs which I did not want to forget to use, so I decided I’d make a frittata for dinner.  We love frittatas. We are also big fans of most any vegetable, not least romanesca broccoli, as I’ve shown recently.   The next day in the Greenmarket I spotted a beautiful head of this art deco treasure which appeared to be exactly the right size for the purpose.

• one large thinly-sliced garlic clove from Norwich Meadows Farm, sautéed in heated olive oil in a seasoned 10″ cast iron pan for about 30 seconds, small flowerettes of romanesca broccoli from Hoeffner Farms, and chopped fresh hot red pepper from Oak Grove Plantation added and cooked for another minute, some of the torn green pointed leaves which enclose the head introduced just before the end, seasoned with salt and pepper, 2 tablespoons of water added, a pyrex glass cover placed over the pan, its contents cooked over moderate heat until the vegetable was crisp-tender, removed from the pan and set aside to cool a little before it was stirred into a bowl in which 8 eggs from Millport Dairy which had been beaten and seasoned with salt and pepper, the contents of the bowl poured into the original pan, which had been returned to the burner where it had heated a tablespoon of oil, the eggs and romanesca cooked over moderately low heat until the edges had set, sprinkled with a half cup of grated parmesan cheese and transferred to a pre-heated 350º oven for about 12 minutes  [the dish can be served warm, but not hot, or at room temperature]
• the wine was an Italian (Veneto) sparkling, Di Maria Prosecco DOC Famiglia Botter
• the music was Carl Heinrich Graun’s opera, ‘Montezuma‘ 

 

While these are baby squid, perhaps they are not baby squid (which might be only 3 to 6 centimeters long, including their heads).  They are however small, tender, and very tasty. I serve this dish often; the size of the cephalopods varies according to local market availability, but they are always delicious, and always very easy to prepare.

The recipe is included in Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers’ ‘Italian Easy: Recipes from the London River Cafe‘.  The book is a treasure.

• three quarters of a pound of baby squid, bodies and tentacles, from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, rinsed, dried, quickly arranged in an enameled cast iron pan after its cooking surface had been brushed with olive oil and heated on top of the range until very hot, then sprinkled with some super-pungent dried Italian oregano from Buon Italia and one crushed dried pepperoncino, also from Buon Italia, then a good squeeze of lemon juice and some olive oil drizzled over the top, and placed in a pre-heated 400º oven, roasted for four or five minutes
• one baby fennel bulb from Norwich Meadows Farm, rolled in a little olive oil, salt, and pepper, pan-grilled until tender and slightly carbonized, then tossed with chopped fennel fronds [note: since I forgot to add some finely-minced garlic this time, we missed out on the zing otherwise expected]
• redbor kale (or winterbor kale), finely-curled and a striking dark purple-red in color, from Tamarack Hollow Farm, wilted with olive oil in which thinly-sliced garlic from Norwich Meadows Farm had been allowed to heat until pungent, seasoned with salt, pepper, and a drizzle of fresh olive oil [in the picture the kale is inside a low black non-vintage, and non-radioactive Fiestaware bowl]
• the wine was an Italian (Sicily) white, Fuori Strada Grillo 2014 (whose gorgeous soft packaging, incidentally, is safe for the water bottle holder on you bike)
• the music was the Calder Quartet playing the Thomas Adès string quartet, ‘Arcadiana’

I included parsley this time.

While it was just as delicious as when I served the dish without it, my sentiment is that I probably prefer the more minimal version of aglio olio e peperoncino, especially if the pasta is of really exceptional quality.

• This is Mark Bittman’s recipe, which is pretty much what I did myself, using one small red cayenne pepper from Oak Grove Plantation, two garlic cloves from Norwich Meadows Farm, more than a third of a cup of parsley from Stokes Farm, and 12 ounces of Afeltra Spaghettone, a slightly fatter spaghetti, made in southern Campania with 100% Puglian grain, bronze-extruded and air-dried) from Eataly
• the wine was an Italian (Sardinia) white, La Cala Vermentino di Sardegna 2013
• the music was from the album, ‘Franz Anton Hofmeister: Complete Works for Viola‘, celebrating a composer and music publisher, also benefactor to and friend of Mozart, who is far more worthy than the modest fame he enjoys today would suggest

(in something of a statement about my at-least-intermittent compulsiveness, the various heirloom cherry tomatoes are already divided into two quite equal shares before the rest of the course has been finished; but they were pretty)

 

But it really wasn’t about the tomatoes, and in fact they were barely even an afterthought.  It was about the sea robin again.

I had prepared this excellent fish twice before, with super success, even if I haven’t yet come up with an alternative to the recipe I’ve used each time.  I now consider sea robin a lucky find and a great treat – and, surprisingly, still one of the best bargains on this side of the Atlantic.  At least so far they haven’t generally been taken seriously as candidates for the dining table, usually considered ‘rough fish’ or ‘trash fish’ by people seeking their prized neighbors, striped bass or flounder.   In France and elsewhere in Europe they and their relatives, whether called ‘gurnard’ or ‘rascasse’, are more respected.

I’m going to link to an attractive recipe on another site here, but it’s probably more for my own reference when than for any public enlightenment.

• eight quite small sea robin fillet, or ‘tails’, from Blue Moon Fish, rinsed, pat dry, then placed in a pan of sizzling olive oil and sautéed over medium-high heat for barely 2 minutes on each side, transferred to two plates, a little lemon squeezed on top, then small spoonfuls of an olive tapenade sauce spread over or between the fillets, which were then garnished with fresh Gotham Greens Rooftop packaged basil leaves from Whole Foods, torn
• the tapenade had been prepared with Gaeta olives from Buon Italia, a little garlic from Norwich Meadows Farm, one rinsed chopped anchovy, also from Buon Italia, salted rinsed capers from Buon Italia, ground black pepper, olive oil, and a few sprigs of fresh thyme from Phillips Farm, chopped
• a handfull of small heirloom cherry and grape tomatoes from Berried Treasures, halved, then added to the plates, and seasoned with Maldon salt
• yellow flat pole beans from Norwich Meadows Farm, blanched, drained and dried, then reheated in oil, finished with salt, pepper, and fresh fennel seed from Lani’s Farm
• a simple salad of spicy wild arugula from Lani”s Farm, tossed with one thinly-sliced shallot from Norwich Meadows Farm, very good olive oil, Italian white vinegar, salt, and freshly-ground pepper
• the wine was a California (Napa) white, Joel Gott Sauvignon Blanc 2014
• the music was Richard Zimdars performing 20th and 21st-century piano compositions by a number of composers, from his album, ‘Character Pieces from Four Continents‘

I had not realized, before I put it on the table, just how appropriate this dish would be for a day on which we had revisited the Donald Judd house.

To begin with, it’s probably the second most minimal recipe in my kitchen ‘kit’ (the first has got to be this spaghetti aglio olio e peperoncino). but beyond that, while the sections of pasta I always use start out as round tubes (a shape not much encountered in Judd’s work or his SoHo house, once they have been cooked they flatten almost completely, and equally seductive rectangles emerge.  Although it may be something of a stretch, I imagine the shape as relating to Judd’s kit.

Every Italian bachelor, full-time or temporary, is alleged to know how to whip up one meal by himself, the dish of spaghetti with a simple sauce of garlic, oil and peppers I mention above. Maybe this simple tomato sauce (which incidentally goes with virtually any pasta) should be in the repertoire of every single girl (or homo), Italian or otherwise, since the recipe requires a little more lead time than the aglio olio e peperoncino, requiring advance planning most bachelors might not be up to.

The story of this dish begins with my visits to a West Village barber shop, beginning in the mid-eighties.  But it wasn’t just any barber shop, as I learned over time.

Nick’s Hair Salon, which sadly no longer exists, was located at 5 Horatio St.  It opened in 1956, fronting on the north sided of an extremely tiny (about 100 square feet) Greenstreets triangle bounded by Horatio, West 4th Street, and 8th Avenue.  Once it had been ‘adopted’ and planted, I would often point out its rich greenery to visitors from less densely-populated realms, as “one of our parks”).

Nick Soccodato was a lovely, affable, and gentle man (with a great full head of hair).

He was a barber and had been a barber, he once told me, from the time he graduated from his first job, which he described as hanging around shops and sweeping up the hair on the floor (I don’t recall where he said that was, but it may have been the same location he eventually owned). Nick was also a dealer, a very special dealer. At some point in the history of his shop he began a second career, dealing in food, Italian food, specifically the vegetables and fruits associated with his family’s Italian bel paese, the Agro Nocerino , and most specifically, with the San Marzano tomato, which has been, and always will be, associated with the area.

I don’t know, but Nick and his Italian nephew, Savino Zuottolo, might have created the American market for San Marzano tomatoes almost on their own, in the back of the business that was later called, ‘Nick’s Hair Styling‘.

I had occasionally seen people come into the shop and walk out with packages, cans, and jars of Italian food, but I hadn’t thought much of it, probably marking it up as just another eccentricity of the owner and a staff not without such things.  But one day I found myself talking to Nick about his family’s homeland.  I told him how much I loved the Campania, on every level, and also told him that I loved cooking, generally using the simplest Italian dishes, and usually southern Italian, as my models.

For sharing my interest with him, I was rewarded with a tour of the barbershop’s back room, where cans, jars and packages of dry stuffs were stocked and displayed something like a much smaller version of the wonderful emporium, Buon Italia, in the Chelsea Market.  I already knew that the various sized cans of San Marzano tomatoes were the stars, but my eyes really lit up when I spotted the packages of short sections of huge tubes of dried pasta.  I thought their contents were absolutely, beautiful, and as perfectly minimal as a bunch of long spaghetti.

I had never seen anything like that pasta before, and I had to take some home.  I had the wits to ask Nic what kind of sauce it would traditionally be served with.  In his answer he described relaxed Sunday afternoon meals of a Paccheri with a simple tomato sauce using canned San Marzano plum tomatoes, and he promised he would ask his wife to copy her recipe and he would give it to me.

I, or rather, we, have dined like Barone ever since, regularly enjoying minimal feasts of paccheri served with Rose Soccodato’s simple San Marzano tomato sauce.  I didn’t remember her name when I transcribed the instructions to my file, so the recipe has always been known as ‘Mrs Nick’s Simple Tomato Sauce’ in our kitchen.

I can’t recommend it enough, but please do not to try it with anything other than San Marzano tomatoes, although, as with so many food source questions, even with ‘Denominazione d’Origine Protetta (DOP)’ printed on the can, exactly what that means may not be perfectly clear.

 

THE RECIPE

In an enameled cast iron pot or other non-reactive pan, large enough to hold the pasta after it’s been cooked, sauté 2 or 3 cloves in 4 to 5 tablespoons of olive oil, but only until the garlic is pungent.

Add one 28-ounce can of San Marzano tomatoes (already-chopped or whole, and ideally without basil), crush the tomatoes with a wooden spoon if they are whole,  sauté uncovered at high heat for 5 minutes, stirring a few times to reduce the liquid (yes, the juices will spatter a bit; I use a black apron and check the surrounding environment after this step).

Reduce the heat to very low, so the sauce is barely bubbling, add salt and freshly-ground pepper to taste, and simmer for a full 30 minutes.

Add a few whole leaves of fresh basil and continue simmering for 15  minutes more, again stirring occasionally.

Note: The sauce can be prepared a little ahead of time, so there’s no competition with the boiling pasta.

When the pasta has cooked, drain it and add it to the pan, or mix sauce and pasta in a warm bowl.

Serve, but do not add cheese.

 

• Setaro Paccheri from Buon Italia, served with the simple tomato sauce described above, using garlic from Norwich Meadows Farm, one 28 oz can of San Marzano tomatoes, and two very large whole leaves from a package of Gotham Greens Rooftop basil purchased at Whole Foods
• the wine was an Italian (Tuscan) red, Morellino di Scansano ‘Mocali‘ 2013, a gift of friends
• the music was from defunensemble‘s double CD, ‘Define Function‘ https://itunes.apple.com/us/album/define-function/id1041575914

Day boat Long Island Cod. But there’s also this sad story about cod.

• a single cod fillet (just under one pound) from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, halved, sautéed slowly for about four or five minutes (along with a one and a half tablespoons of minced garlic, from Norwich Meadows Farm, which had been begun to color in the oil), then flipped, and two thirds of a cup of chopped parsley from Stokes Farm added to the pan, stirred a bit and the fish sautéed for a few more minutes before it was removed to two plates, and the juices spread on top of the fillets
• four ‘Mountain Magic’ cherry tomatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, quartered, added to the plates, and seasoned with Maldon salt
• yellow flat pole beans from Norwich Meadows Farm, blanched, drained and dried, then reheated in oil, finished with salt, pepper, and fresh fennel seed from Lani’s Farm
• the wine was a French (Loire) white, Champalou Vouvray 2014 (Kermit Lynch Wine Merchant)
• the music was more from the albums we were listening to yesterday, violinist/composer Todd Reynolds’ 2CD composite album, ‘Outerborough‘