I’ve been hoping for years to be able to prepare scallops with the roe attached. Last Friday I was finally able to bring some home. I bought some scallops in the shell (alive) around midday, and kept them, I think I can be pretty certain, happy as clams. They stayed snuggled together under a wet towel in the coldest part of the refrigerator overnight, raised above any liquid that might accumulate in their bowl, to keep them from drowning.

It was only the following day that the frustration began. I can shuck clams, I can shuck oysters, and now I can shuck scallops, but I far prefer doing clams and oysters, even if scallops have the advantage of presenting almost no stabbing risk.

The live scallops offer their roe, but only on condition that you remove the gills, viscera, and any other stuff you wouldn’t want sharing the pan or the plate with . When you’re done, you’re going to wonder why that tiny little muscle needed all that plumbing: I had bought 11 scallops (shells about 5 inches across), and, once the detritus had been removed, even including the orange or white roe, the whole lot would barely cover the bottom of a saucer.

Their small size made it very difficult for me to cook them as I normally would, or even think of them as a full seafood portion, so I altered my procedure a bit, and increased the amount and numbers of the vegetable sides.

I now understand what’s behind the market cost of cleaned scallops, and, having gone through the process with this one small batch, going forward I’ll be totally content with paying to avoid the job myself. I can’t imagine ever doing this again, unless the shells are huge, meaning the scallop of commensurate size, making it at least worth the trouble.

• eleven sea scallops, including their orange and white roe, from Pura Vida Seafood, cleaned as discussed (perhaps too daintily) above, dried on paper towels, seasoned with salt and pepper, sautéed briefly over medium heat inside an oiled pan in which chopped rosemary from Phillips Farm had already been heated briefly, removed, divided onto 2 plates and finished with a squeeze of lemon and a scattering of micro beets from Two Gus from Woodbridge, then drizzled with some good olive oil, served with wedges of lemon on the side
• purple snow peas from Norwich Meadows Farm, sautéed in olive oil along with some chopped no-heat Habanada pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm, sprinkled with a little lemon zest, then tossed with spearmint from Stokes Farm and seasoned with salt and pepper
• fourteen or so Sun Gold tomatoes from Stokes Farm, heated in a little olive oil with a little finely-chopped garlic from Stokes Farm and a tiny amount of a medium-hot red cherry pepper from Oak Grove Plantation until the tomatoes were beginning to break down, finished with torn New York City basil from Gotham Greens via Whole Foods
• a spray of delicious arugula from Keith’s Organic Farm, dressed with a very good Campania olive oil, salt, and pepper
• the wine was a California (Lodi) white, David Akiyoshi Reserve Chardonnay 2015
• the music was Alfred Schnittke’s Symphony No, 1, Leif Segerstam conducting the Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra

It looks like I had forgotten how red-ish shrimp get once cooked, since I the vegetable I chose to accompany them comes with a similar palette, and the touches of green on/under each only emphasized the similitude.

But, color choices aside, they turned out to be a great pairing.

• one teaspoon of chopped garlic from Stokes  Farm heated inside a (13 1/2″) cast iron pan over a very low flame until the garlic had colored nicely, then one finely-chopped no-heat Habanada pepper from Norwich Meadows Farms added and pushed around with the garlic, followed by a pinch of Spanish saffron (DO La Mancha from Antonio Sotos), 2 smaller whole dried chipotle peppers from Northshire Farms in the Union Square Greenmarket (unpunctured, left whole) and a teaspoon of freshly-ground cumin seed added, all stirred for a minute or two, after which 14 ounces (11 by count) of Hudson Valley farmed shrimp from Eco Shrimp Garden were added (I had cut them all along their backs, from head to tail, to ease shelling once they were served), seasoned with salt and pepper, the heat brought up a bit and the shrimp cooked until firm while turned twice, served on 2 plates with a generous squeeze of lemon, finished with purple micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge [both the peppers and the micro ‘greens’ are my additions to Mark Bittman’s recipe]
• one small leek from Willow Wisp Farm, cut lengthwise down the center, rinsed well under cold water (although there was none of the soil usually found between the leaves this time), dried, chopped into small pieces, cooked in heated olive oil until wilted, two dark-red heirloom tomatoes from Cherry Lane Farm, sliced, then slipped into the pan and barely heated, a generous amount of chopped thyme from Keith’s Farm, salt, and sugar added, stirred into the vegetables, served with additional uncooked finely-sliced parts of leek sprinkled on top
• the wine was an Argentinian (Mendoza) white, Santa Julia Viognier Plus Mendoza 2015 from Chelsea Wine Vault
• the music was from a recording of 6 works featuring violin or viola, by Bach and Schnittke, performed by Sarah Nemtanu and Deborah Nemtanu, with Sascha Goetzel conducting the Paris Chamber Orchestra in 4 of the pieces

For some reason, although I almost always serve the same cut, it almost always comes from the same farm, and I think, except for the finishing herb or micro green, I’ve always used the same basic recipe, the duck breasts I cook taste a little differently each time.

This might not be unexpected in the real world of small-scale farming, but this time I might credit it partly to my taking more time than I normally do in scoring the fat on top of the meat. Smaller islands of caramelized fat must have helped in an enjoyment of both the textures and the taste. The obvious ‘fancy-ham’ pattern in the picture above describes what I mean: The piece of duck (half of a 12-ounce breast) shown was only about 3 inches across.

The Brussels sprouts were our first of the fall. They came on a 2-foot stalk, but were nevertheless quite small, took very little time in the oven, and were absolutely fine.

The golden heirloom tomato was more delicate than I had been prepared for, or else I was distracted and just left it on the hot grill pan a little too long, so it ended up looking less like a tomato in that same picture, but it definitely tasted like a great one, and the seasoning I used amplified its virtues.

• one duck breast (12 ounces) from Hudson Valley Duck, the fatty side scored in tight cross hatching with a very sharp knife, the entire breast then sprinkled with a mixture of sea salt, freshly-ground pepper, and a little turbinado sugar (in our kitchen, the bowl of sugar has been infused over time with a vanilla bean), the duck left standing for about 45 minutes before it was pan-fried, first the fatty side down, in a tiny bit of olive oil, over medium heat, draining the oil part of the way through, to be strained and used in cooking later, the breast removed when medium rare (cut into 2 portions to check that the center is of the right doneness), left to sit for several minutes before finishing it with a drizzle of lemon and drops of a very good Campania olive oil, and scattered with ‘Bull’s Blood’ micro beets from Windfall Farm [NOTE: the tenderloin would normally have been removed from the breast before cooking, also marinated, and fried very briefly near the end of the time the breast itself was cooking, but this time I could locate no separate section to remove]
• small Brussels sprouts from Norwich Meadows Farm, tossed with olive oil, salt and pepper, spread onto a medium, well-seasoned Pampered Chef oven pan in a 400º oven and cooked until tender and slightly carbonized (the time will depend on size, but these took barely 15 minutes), finished with a drizzle of balsamic vinegar and stirred
• one orange heirloom tomato from Cherry Lane Farm, cut into 1/2-inch slices, dried, pan-grilled, removed, seasoned with salt and pepper, sprinkled with bronze micro fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• the wine was a California (El Dorado) red, Scott McLeod Matt Parish Pilot Hill Gang Cabernet Sauvignon Merlot El Dorado County 2014
• the music was Per Nørgård, Symphony No. 8, Sakari Oramo conducting the Vienna Philharmonic

This was simply the best swordfish I have ever tasted, and that even allows for my prejudice for a minimal treatment of a good fish.

My excuse for adding the finishing touch on the top was the rediscovery that day, at the Greenmarket, of one of my favorite micro greens (I brought home the last few ounces in the farmer’s plastic bucket). I could not not add the ‘beetlings’ to what I suspected was already going to be a terrific piece of swordfish.

The choice of the vegetable was a last-minute decision. After weighing the how-long-it-takes question, the important goes-well-with-the-protein issue, the what-will-keep-better-than-the-other-vegetables consideration, and the how-will-the-colors-work-with-the-entrée judgment, I picked the miniature sweet peppers.

• two 8-ounce swordfish steaks (larger than what I would usually serve, but the alternatives would have been too small or too large) from American Seafood Company, in the Union Square Greenmarket, marinated in a mixture of olive oil, a very small amount of crushed dried Itria-Sirissi chili, peperoncino di Sardegna intero from Buon Italia, chopped fresh marjoram from Stokes Farm, and thin slices of red scallions from S. & S.O. Produce Farms, for about half hour, then drained well and covered with a coating of dried homemade bread crumbs and pan-grilled over medium-high heat for 4 to 5 minutes on each side, removed to the plates, seasoned with a little sea salt, drizzled with a little lemon juice, dusted with a pinch of some wonderful Italian wild fennel pollen from Buon Italia, some freshly, very-finely-chopped scallions tossed across the top, sprinkled with a little ‘Bull’s Blood’ micro beets from Windfall Farm
• small parti-colored peppers from Norwich Meadows Farm, stemmed, split, seeded, the piths removed (there was little of seed or pith in any), then the larger ones halved, all sautéed over high heat until slightly caramelized, finished with torn spearmint leaves from Stokes Farm and a splash of balsamic vinegar
• the wine was an Argentian (Salta) white, Torrontes, Dos Minas 2015, from Chelsea Wine Vault
• the music was Per Nørgård, Symphony No. 7

I couldn’t help it: I had the micro greens handy, and, even after I had finished cooking them, both the squid and the vegetables seemed to be asking for something more.

The picture below is of the tomatoes and onions before they went into the oven, long before they had any thoughts about purple micro radish.

• one pound of cleaned squid from P.E. & D. D. Seafood, marinated for about half an hour (half of that time in the refrigerator) in a bowl containing a mixture of the zest and juice of most of one lemon, thinly-sliced garlic from Race Farm, olive oil, pungent dried Italian oregano from Buon Italia, some finely-chopped no-heat Habanada pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm, and a finely-chopped section of one medium-hot red cherry pepper from Oak Grove Plantation, salt, and pepper, removed from the marinade, drained, pan-grilled briefly over high heat, arranged on plates, drizzled with fresh lemon juice and sprinkled with micro red sorrel from Two Guys from Woodbridge [the basic recipe, minus the micro radish, with more specific instructions appears here]
• two green tomatoes from Tamarack Hollow Farm and two medium red onions from Norwich Meadows Farm, sliced into rough sections, tossed together with a little olive oil, salt, and pepper, spread onto a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at around 375º for about 25 minutes, or until both tomatoes and onions were tender and slightly browned, arranged on plates and sprinkled with purple micro radish from Windfall Farms
• the wine was a California (Napa) white, Sin Fronteras Chardonnay Napa 2015
• the music was that of Poul Ruders, his ‘Nightshade Trilogy’, on Bridge Records; the composer describes the work as, “..a collection of compositions that evoke for me an almost Gothic association with pale moonlight, tombstones crypts and the elusive shadows deep inside an ancient forest at the deep of night.” (I think we got the Halloween thing down tonight)

I had decided dinner would be a pasta. I had some very interesting dried forms and flavors, some of them portions remaining from already-opened packages. I thought of using some of the pancetta I had in the freezer, and I had not yet decided what to do with a very tasty green I had discovered a couple days earlier at the stall of 2 of the younger farmers at the Union Square Market.

The result was an improvised dish of whole wheat pasta with pancetta and ‘wrinkled crinkled cress’. There were a few other ingredients, and they were important, but they were basically there to enrich the basic ‘bones’.

And this is what ‘wrinkled crinkled cress’ look like, although the picture gives nothing away of the flavor, which, as I told Chris and Jessi, of Campo Rosso, in my surprise, was “like candy”.

• two ounces of pancetta affettata from Buon Italia, cut into small cubes, one finely-chopped shallot from Keith’s Farm, cooked with a very little olive oil inside a large enameled cast iron pan over medium heat until all had begun to turn golden on the edges, the heat turned off and one finely-chopped heatless orange Habanada pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm and a finely-chopped part of one medium-hot red cherry pepper from Oak Grove Plantation added and stirred in, the pan set aside until 8 ounces of Sfogllini ‘Whole Grain Blend Trumpets’, had finished cooking, almost al dente, at which time the drained pasta was added to the sauce pot, stirred in and moistened with some of the reserved pasta cooking water, followed by a couple handfuls of ‘wrinkled crinkled cress’ from Camp Rosso Farm and about 1 1/2 tablespoons of freshly-squeezed lemon, which was also stirred in, served in shallow bowls and topped with shaved Parmigiano Reggiano Vacche Rosse from Buon Italia
• the wine was a French (Savoie) white, Jean Perrier et Fils, Abymes 2015
• the music was Per Nørgård, Symphony No. 6

The meal was a modest variation on the fried eggs, bacon, and toast we often have on Sunday morning-into-early-afternoon. The chief differences this time were the thick toast and the choice of red micro sorrel as topping and garnish.

The headline reflects the title of one of the pieces of music which accompanied the meal.

• the ingredients included 6 eggs and 8 slices of thick bacon from Millport Dairy Farm; thick slices of a day-old demi-baguette from Bread Alone, toasted on top of the stove on our very retro, ‘Camp-A-Toaster’, (the baguette augmented later by toasts from a loaf of whole wheat farm bread from Rock Hill Bakery); chopped sections of one red scallion from Norwich Meadows Farm, 14 small Sun Gold tomatoes from Stokes Farm, 2 finely-chopped heatless orange Habanada peppers; Maldon salt, Tellicherry pepper, chopped fresh rosemary from Stokes Farm; a dab of an aromatic seasoning blend called L’eKama; and a sprinkling of micro red sorrel from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• the music was an album of organ works of Messiaen, including, ‘Le Banquet Céleste‘ (1928), a title (and a sentiment, if not examined too closely) we thought particularly appropriate for a somewhat rich Sunday breakfast/lunch, even if it the ‘banquet’ in question was to be laid out for a very small band of atheists

Steak and potatoes. And greens. But not just steak and potatoes. And the greens were also very, very good. The thick heavily-marbled pastured and grass-fed ‘Delmonico cut’ beef was from an Amish family’s farm in Pennsylvania, the small juicy fingerlings from a friend’s garden just north of New York, and the sweet collards from the northern Vermont farm of a couple who have become Greenmarket friends

I didn’t have to travel more than a mile from home to harvest all of it.

• a one-pound Delmonico steak from Millport Dairy Farm, dried, pan-grilled to medium rare, divided into 2 pieces, drizzled on the plates with a squeeze of lemon and a little olive oil, finished with a sprinkling of bronze micro fennel from Windfall Farm
• fingerling potatoes from a friend’s garden, ‘Lower Hayfields’, in Garrison, New York, most of them halved, tossed with at little olive oil, some finely-chopped no-heat Habanada pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm, crumbled dried sage and chopped fresh rosemary, both from Stokes Farm, salt, and pepper, spread, cut side down, onto a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at 375º for about 25 minutes, or until both tender and slightly browned
• collard greens from Tamarack Hollow Farm, cut as a very rough chiffonade, then braised in a heavy pot in which crushed ‘German Hardneck’ garlic from Race Farm had been allowed to sweat with some olive oil, the dish finished with salt, pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a California (Calveras) red, F. Stephen Millier Black Label Red Angel Red Blend Calaveras County 2014, from Naked Wines
• the music was an album of electronically manipulated musical, spoken, and natural sounds by Roger Reynolds

This time I strayed so far from the urtext of a recipe, one which I have used many times before, that I won’t even go into its antecedents.

I’ll only introduce the ingredients.

It’s a mystery to me why pollock is always so modestly priced at the fish market, because it really is a great fish, with excellent flavor and wonderful texture, and it’s really easy to prepare. It’s also amenable to any number of creative treatments, although I’d recommend not getting too fancy, or its very real virtues might end up hidden.

The other mystery is the phenomenal shape of Romanesco broccoli, normally unnaturally geometric, but this time, in parts, almost diabolically contorted, and also two-toned!

• two 8-ounce pollock fillets from Pura Vida Seafood, dried, seasoned on both sides with salt and pepper, placed in a buttered copper au gratin pan, spread over the top with a mixture of soft butter, lemon zest, and some chopped red scallions from S. & S.O. Produce Farms [almost any other mild allium could be substituted], and one finely-chopped habanada pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm, baked 12 to 15 minutes at 350º, removed to 2 plates, some micro red sorrel from Two Gus from Woodbridge briefly stirred into the pan juices, which were drizzled on top of the fillets, the dish finished with some more (fresh) micro sorrel
• fourteen sun gold tomatoes, from 2 different growers, Ryder Farm and Stokes Farm, heated with a little olive oil inside a small Pyrex glass pan until they had begun to soften, then seasoned with salt and pepper and added to the au gratin pan after the pollock had been removed, but before the sorrel had been added
• one magnificent Romanesco broccoli head from Berried Treasures, broken up into florets, tossed with a little olive oil (not too much, to guarantee a slightly crispy, slightly carbonized side dish), salt, pepper, and part of a seeded medium-hot red cherry pepper from Oak Grove Plantation, finely chopped, the mix spread onto one of my several Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pans and roasted at 400º for about 25 minutes [it was necessary to juggle the fish and the vegetable inside the oven on account of the different oven temperatures required], removed from the oven, stirred, and served
• the wine was a California (Napa) white, Matt Iaconis Chardonnay Napa Valley 2015
• the music was Vivaldi’s ‘Armida’, Rinaldo Alessandrini directing Concerto Italiano

The basic recipe for this simple fresh pasta sauce, from Mark Bittman, is one I had cut out of the ‘New York Times Magazine’ 5 years ago, in the first week of August, and while I have associated it with summer, it sure looks summery in the picture, and, yes, it tasted summery, all of the vegetables and herbs were purchased at the Union Square Greenmarket in this last week of October.

One of the most interesting aspects of this preparation, at least for me, is the fact that it calls for neither salt (other than that added to the water in which the pasta was boiled), nor black pepper. Does that betray the peasant origin of the dish, since contadini might have often have had to depend solely on the product of their own fields for ingredients?

I think these tomatoes are betraying their awareness the season is ending; the micro radish greens don’t seem to have a clue however, and they’re probably right if they’re thinking their kind will be around all winter, snug in their high tunnels.

• eight ounces of Setaro penne rigate, from Buon Italia, cooked al dente, then tossed in a large bowl in which 3 heirloom tomatoes, an orange and a red, from Eckerton Hill Farm and a green from Norwich Meadows Farm, cut into rough chunks, had been mixed, just after the pasta water had been places on the range, with 3 tablespoons of a decent olive oil, 3 lightly-crushed ‘German Hardneck’ garlic cloves from Race Farm, one medium-hot green Pasilla pepper from Oak Grove Plantation, a heatless orange Habanada pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm, and about half of a cup of torn basil from Stokes Farm, stirred and allowed to sit until the pasta itself was ready, served in shallow bowls, finished with a sprinkling of homemade bread crumbs that had been browned in a little olive oil, topped with purple micro radish from Windfall Farms
• the wine was an Italian (Piedmont) white, Ioppa Vino Bianco San Grato 2015
• the music was Per Nørgård’s Symphony No. 5, the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by John Storgårds