Category: Meals at home

potato/chili/olive/bay-roasted lotte; pole beans with thyme

It felt pretty wintry on Friday, so, yeah, fish and potatoes.

But, hedging our bets on the season, there were also yellow pole beans.

  • twelve or 14 ounces of scrubbed, dried, and thinly sliced red potatoes from Willow Wisp Farm, arranged, overlapping, on the bottom of a glazed earthenware oven pan, covered with 3 tablespoons, or slightly more, of a Chelsea Whole Foods house Portuguese olive oil, seasoned with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, a pinch of an Eckerton Hill Farm crushed dried hickory smoked Jamaican Scotch bonnet pepper and the same amount of a dried habanada pepper, 9 whole Italian bay leaves from Buon Italia scattered on top, and then more oil (another 2 tablespoons or so) poured over everything, the pan placed inside a 400º oven for about 20 or 25 minutes, or until the potatoes had begun to brown on the edges, when almost two thirds of a cup of pitted Sicilian black oil-cured olives from Buon Italia [fewer olives would definitely also work, this amount is luscious] were scattered about them, followed by one 15-ounce monkfish tail [Fr. Lotte de Mer] from Pura Vida Seafood, cut into 4 pieces, placed on top of everything, the fish sprinkled with salt and pepper, and the pan returned to the oven for roughly another 15 minutes, or until the monkfish was tender but not overcooked (I used an instant thermometer and 140º as the final say), everything arranged on the plates 
  • eleven ounces of sweet flat yellow pole beans from Norwich Meadows Farm, blanched and drained, then dried over a medium flame in the same, emptied pot, shaking it up and down, set aside until the fish and potatoes were done, reheated in olive oil inside a cast iron skillet, seasoned with salt and pepper, and tossed with chopped thyme leaves from Quarton Farm, garnished with a little micro red amaranth from Norwich Meadows Farm
  • the wine was an Oregon (Northern Willamette Valley and Umpqua Valley) white, Scott Kelley Oregon Chardonnay 2018, from Naked Wines
  • the music was Rossini’s 1817 operatic dramma giocoso, ‘La Cenerentola’, in a classic 1999 recording, Claudio Abbado conducting theLondon Symphony Orchestra and the Scottish Opera Chorus, with Margherita Guglielmi, Renato Capecchi, Luigi Alva, Teresa Berganza, Paolo Montarsolo, Laura Zannini, and Ugo Trama

german andouille, cranberry mustard; roast potato; collards

German creole cookery? Yes, and of course it was all good.

Otherwise all I can think to say otherwise is how quickly Barry and I have become comfortable with the idea of traditional German cuisine melded with that of the deep south hundreds of years ago. I wrote a little about it in the post describing our first exposure to the story of Louisiana’s German coast (Deutsche Küste/Côte des Allemands).

  • four links of Louisiana German Coast-style spicy Andouille sausage 12 ounces) from Schaller & Weber’s Yorkville store placed inside a large Pyrex Flameware pot, filled with just enough cold water to cover, heated over a medium-high flame until the water had reached a gentle simmer, by which time, now fully cooked, they were removed, drained, and dried on a paper towel before being placed inside one of my prized ancient perfectly seasoned Wagner Ware cast iron pans over high heat (after its surface had been brushed with a very small amount of Mac Nut oil), seared, turning frequently until colored on all sides, then arranged on the plates with that brilliant condiment creation, Inglehoffer  cranberry mustard

  • one pound of so of Peter Wilcox potatoes (purple skin, golden flesh) from Windfall Farms, scrubbed, skins left on, halved, tossed with a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly ground black pepper, rosemary leaves from Phillips Farms, a bit of crushed dried Italian myrtle (It. Mirto) leaves from Buon Italia, and the same amount of dry crushed golden habanada pepper, the potatoes arranged, cut side down, on a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at about 350º-375º for about 30 minutes, garnished with Micro red vein sorrel from Two Guys from Woodbridge

sea bass, tomato/olive salsa, micro sorrel; radicchio, leeks

It’s both a great fish and a luscious dish. Also, because of at least slight variations in the ingredients each time, starting with the kinds of tomatoes available, it never tastes quite the same. I think of that as a plus.

  • the preparations began with a salsa, assembled about 30 minutes in advance inside a small bowl, containing one cup of halved golden cherry tomatoes from Windfall Farms, half a cup of pitted and halved kalamata olives from Whole Foods Market, sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, 2 finely chopped fresh aji dulce peppers from Eckerton Hill Farm, and a little olive oil, the mix set aside while the fish was cooked: four 4-ounce black sea bass fillets from American Seafood Company, seasoned on both sides with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, sautéed skin side down over a fairly brisk flame in a little Mac Nut  macademia nut oil (which has a higher smoke point than olive oil) from Whole Foods Market inside a large, heavy antique oval copper skillet skin side down, turned after about 2 minutes, the other side cooked for about the same length of time, removed to 2 warm plates when done, 2 tablespoons of butter added to the pan and allowed to melt, a couple tablespoons of chopped peppermint from Keith’s Farm and chopped parsley from Quarton Farm tossed in, along with a tablespoon or more of Whole Foods Market organic lemon juice, and everything stirred for a few seconds before the sauce was spooned on top of the bass and the salsa set aside earlier arranged in a cascade between the 2 filets on each plate, both fish and salsa garnished with micro red vein sorrel from Two Guys from Woodbridge

marinated grilled octopus; potatoes, celery; sweet peppers

Neptune blesses our waters with an amazing variety of seafood, but the god has withheld one of my favorites.

Supposedly there are no octopus anywhere within at least hundreds of miles of our own fishers, although I see links on line that suggest otherwise, so maybe it’s just that a demand isn’t perceived here. In any event, no locals show up in the markets, so whenever the fancy strikes, I have to go all the way to Spain, at least figuratively, to bring baby octopus to the table, the only bad part being the carbon compounds consumed in the process.

I understand that today “Spanish octopus” [for that matter, also that enjoyed in Portugal] may now come “from Africa”, which probably means waters off the coast of the former Spanish Sahara (today Morocco), or possibly the Canary Islands (Spain, to be sure). Unfortunately I didn’t ask the fish monger at Lobster Place about the origin of those we enjoyed on Tuesday (I’m confident they have a record), but I hope to remember to do so the next time.

So I know little more about these particular Cephalopods than the fact they were incredibly delicious. I suspect some of the credit should go to the fact that this time I had an especially high flame below the large ribbed grill pan (the charred sections in the picture are witness to that).

  • four Spanish baby octopus, a total of 17 ounces (I believe they had been previously frozen) from our neighborhood seafood shop, Lobster Place, in Chelsea Market, marinated in and later outside of the refrigerator for about 2 hours altogether (although even a much shorter period also really works) in a mixture of 1/4 cup olive oil; one teaspoon of dried Italian oregano from the Madonie Mountains in Sicily; the zest and juice of half of an organic Whole Foods lemon; 1/4 teaspoon of crushed peperoncino Calabresi secchia from Buon Italia; 1/2 teaspoon of sea salt; and one finely-chopped medium clove of ‘Chesnok Red’ garlic from Alewife Farm, chopped thinly, the octopus, now at room temperature, removed from the mix, drained a bit and grilled, the mouth, or beak side first, over a very high flame on top of a seasoned double-burner cast iron grill pan for 10 or 12 minutes, served with a squeeze of juice from the zested lemon and some olive oil, and garnished with micro arugula from Norwich Meadows Farm
  • eleven ounces of la Ratte potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, scrubbed, boiled, along with a generous amount of salt, drained, dried in the pan, halved, rolled in a little olive oil, seasoned with a local sea salt from P.E. & D.D. Seafood and freshly ground pepper, rolled in some chopped small celery stems and tossed with chopped celery leaves

picanha, reverse seared; pan-roasted potatoes; radiccchio

Looks aren’t everything.

The proof of the pudding is in the eating.

Good things come in threes.

Red is good.

I mean, to me the the picture looks good, and at least to anyone who might enjoy the kind of dinner it describes, it’s probably a fairly appetizing image.

What it doesn’t show however is just how really, really delicious the entire meal actually was, and the steak in particular. Last night I said that I’ve never had a better one, at home or in a restaurant, and Barry agreed.

All of the elements of the meal were familiar recipes, and proven favorites as well, but because I was altering the way I cook one of them, the steak, using a ‘reverse sear method’ for the first time [its merits discussed here], a certain amount of recalculation was required for all 3 parts of the dinner.

The recipe for the potatoes is brilliant, and I’m sure to be revisiting it under similar circumstances, in warm weather when I don’t want to use an oven, or when I might just some delicious stove-top roasted potatoes.

I was planning to have roasted potatoes last night (I had some nice La Ratte fingerlings in my virtual root cellar), and I would normally have preferred roasting the radicchio with some thyme branches, but the oven both would need was going to be engaged with the steak at too low a temperature for either of the vegetables until shortly before the meal would be completed. I realized this at just about the time I was to begin the preparation of the meal, so I quickly searched on line for a recipe that would produce a potato dish more appropriate for accompanying a good steak than simple boiled potatoes (finding an excellent one here, from Amanda Hesser‘s site, Food52), and I revised the plan for the chicory, moving the cooking to a burner top and also totally simplifying its preparation.

They may not have looked like roasted potatoes when they started out, but if I hadn’t been there all through the process, they could have fooled me once they were done.

  • one 19-ounce picanha steak (called ‘culotte’ here, ‘coulotte’ in France, ‘picanha’ in Brazil), from Gabe, of Sun Fed Beef (Maple Avenue Farms) in the farm’s stall at the Union Square Greenmarket, brought to room temperature, seasoned on all sides with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, placed on a rack in, as I’m suggesting now, a 275º oven for 15 or 20 minutes [that timing estimate will have to be examined the next time, since last night I used an even lower temperature, for a longer period, but the cooking didn’t seem to be actually happening, so I eventually raised the heat], or until medium rare, meaning a thermometer reading of 120º, then seared briefly on all sides (the steak was already fully cooked, so left on the surface just long enough to impart color, lingering just a bit longer on the top, thick, fat-covered side) inside a dry oval heavy cast iron pan, after first placing on the surface a little cooking oil with a higher smoke point than olive oil (I used Mac Nut macademia nut oil from Whole Foods Market) and immediately applying pressure in the center with a wooden spoon, to keep its middle surface from rising from the surface of the pan, then removed from the heat, cut into 2 sections, and allowed to rest for up to 10 minutes while covered loosely with foil, arranged on 2 warm plates, some juice from an organic Whole Foods Market organic lemon squeezed on top, sprinkled with chopped fresh rue from Stokes Farm, and drizzled with a Whole Foods Market Portuguese house olive oil

  • eleven or 12 ounces of small Adirondack Red potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, each less than 2 inches in size, scrubbed, halved, and set aside while a large antique, very well seasoned Wagner Ware cast iron pan in which enough olive oil had been added to coat the bottom 1/8 inch deep was heated over a medium flame until the oil began to shimmer, a generous layer of salt [but not too much] scattered into the oil all over the bottom of the pan as evenly as possible, the potatoes, the pieces of the second cut kept together so the potatoes look like just one half, placed cut side down on the bottom of the pan and fried at medium heat, without touching, for about 10 minutes, depending on the size of the potatoes, at which time one potato half was turned over and checked to see if it was nicely colored (if not, the cooking would be allowed to continue a few more minutes), and when the potatoes were nicely browned, the heat was turned as low as possible and a glass cover placed on the pan, with the potatoes continuing to brown under cover, for about 20 minutes more, or until done, when they were seasoned with black pepper, arranged on the plates, and garnished with micro kale from Norwich Meadows Farm [the potatoes can be kept covered with the heat off, for 30 minutes or more, but if they are allowed to stand, any excess oil should be drained from the pan [they are equally good at room temperature]

  • the outer leaves, about 11 ounces by weight, from one 17-ounce head of rosa di verona radicchio (the oldest red chicory, and still the classic, although these were not round, but somewhat elongated, from Campo Rosso Farm, washed and drained, cut very roughly, sautéed in a little olive oil inside a large antique copper pot over medium-high heat, stirring frequently, until tender to the bite and starting to brown just a bit, or maybe 6 to 8 minutes, sprinkle with salt and black pepper, arranged on the plates, drizzled with a little more olive oil [as with the potatoes, timing is really not very critical, as the chicory can be serves warm or at room temperature]
  • the wine was an Italian (Tuscany/Castiglioni) red, Tenuta Frescobaldi di Castiglioni 2017,from Philippe Wines
  • the music was Mahler’s Symphony No. 6, Claudio Abbado conducting the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra

skate wing, tomatillos, lemon mustard sauce; potatoes, rue

It was delicious, even if the photo reveals it was a little colorless. I’ve usually used tomatoes, in fact usually bright red tomatoes, when I’ve roasted whole skate wings, and I did bring home some small golden cherry tomatoes that afternoon, but in the evening I remembered that I’d been hoarding some tomatillos, which are nightshades, but not tomatoes, for a couple of weeks. I checked them out and found that they both looked and tasted as good as when I had worked with a few on the previous Sunday, so I decided the familiar recipe could handle a change in one of its major ingredients.

The tomatillos had been purchased at the Union Square Greenmarket on October 14, over 2 weeks before I finally incorporated them in this meal.  Until I looked into their storage life expectancy on line the next day I had thought my experience represented an extraordinary survival, but nature often knows how to pack her things, and in this case her design, the dry, leafy husk in which they are wrapped and to which they remain attached until ready to be used, did its job well; also, I had kept them in an open paper bag in the crisper, and I talked to them regularly.

The other novelty that was a part of this meal was the herb rue, today more celebrated in literature and scary medical accounts than found in actual food preparation. I’d seen it before in the Union Square Greenmarket but had always passed on it, but the little bunches I found at the Stokes Farm stand on Friday finally won me over, after briefly checking the internet information my phone to see if I would be likely to find something to do with it.

The results were conclusive: It was positively super on plain boiled potatoes, a very pungent, very unusual and tasty flavor I expect to enjoying more in the future.

  • a generous number of small to medium tomatillos from Ecketon Hill Farm, halved, tossed gently inside a shallow bowl with less than a tablespoon of olive oil and less than a whole crushed dried Itria-Sirissi chili, pepperoncino di Sardegna intero from Buon Italia, arranged, cut sides down, inside a large enameled cast iron oven pan and roasted at 400º for about 10 minutes, after which two 11.5-ounce whole skate wings (the cartilage and joint bone where they had been attached to the main body intact) from American Seafood Company, seasoned with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, transferred to the pan, after moving the tomatillos to the edges, roasted for another 15 minutes or so, a whisked together mixture of one tablespoon of olive oil, half a tablespoon of lemon juice, half a teaspoon of a good Dijon mustard, and more than a half tablespoon of rinsed salted Sicilian capers poured over the fish and tomatillos before the pan was returned to the oven for 2 or 3 minutes, then removed, its contents arranged on 2 plates, the tomatillos next to or slightly covering the edges of the skate, both garnished with micro chervil from Two Guys from Woodbridge, with lemon quarters placed to the side of the plates

  • eleven or 12 ounces of medium red potatoes from Windfall Farms, scrubbed, boiled unpeeled in generously-salted water until barely cooked through, drained, halved, dried in the still-warm large vintage Corning  Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot in which they had cooked, tossed with a little Whole Foods house Portuguese olive oil, seasoned with local P.E. & D.D. Seafood Company sea salt and some ground pepper, tossed with some beautiful rue from Stokes Farm, chopped
  • the wine was a New Zealand (Hawkes Bay) white, Rod Easthope Reserve Hawkes Bay Sauvignon Blanc 2018, from Naked Wines
  • the music was Jordi Savall’s intense album, ‘Orient-Occident Vol 2 – Hommage a la Syrie

crab cake on tomato salsa, with zhug; mustard kale, garlic

I didn’t get to the Union Square Greenmarket on Monday, so while I missed the P.E. & D.D. Seafood stall, that night I rewarded us both with a meal that included a pair of their crab cakes made inside their home by Delores Karlin, wife of fisherman Phil Karlin, that I’d defrosted earlier in the day.

  • two frozen crab cakes from P.E. & D.D. Seafood (crab, egg, flour, red & green peppers, garlic, salt, pepper, breadcrumbs, mayonnaise, milk, celery, and parsley), defrosted earlier, heated with a drizzle of olive oil inside a small perfectly seasoned ancient cast iron pan, 3 to 4 minutes to each side, served on a salsa composed of one large ripe red heirloom tomato, chopped, from Jersey Farm Produce Inc. at the Saturday 23rd Street farmers market, plus much of a small scallion, finely chopped, from Alex’s Tomato Farm in the same market, some sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, a bit of scissored chives from Space at Ryder Farm, and a little olive oil, finished with a judicious amount of the cook’s own homemade Zhug spread on top of the cakes, the whole garnished with a sprinkling of micro chervil from Two Guys from Woodbridge [this time there was a lot of salsa, but noting to self that it would be best to put the crispy cakes next to the colder, moist salsa, and not on it]
  • the remainder of most of a very large bunch of a delicious unnamed green that I was told is a mix of kale and mustard, from Quarton Farm, washed several times and chopped very roughly, including the stems, wilted inside a large antique copper pot in a little olive oil in which several thinly sliced ‘Chesnok Red’ Red’ garlic cloves from Alewife Farm had been warmed and begun to color, the greens arranged on the plates, seasoned with salt and pepper and drizzled with a little olive oil
  • the wine for both courses was a Spanish (Catalonia/Tarragona/Monsant) white, Franck Massard Herbis Verdejo 2018, from Naked Wines
  • the music was the album, Játékok’ (Games), with works by György Kurtág alternating with Bach transcriptions, both being the creations of Kurtág himself and of his wife Márta Kurtág, in two and four handed piano accounts performed by the two of them

lunch of consequence

After last week’s detour through a one-stop condiment arrangement involving some homemade Zhug, today I went back to assembling a lot of separate things in little bowls for our traditional Sunday bacon and eggs early afternoon meal.

It was a lunch of consequence.

It included, not necessarily in any order:

  • 6 fresh eggs from pastured chickens, John Stoltzfoos’ Millport Dairy Farm in the Union Square Greenmarket
  • 4 slices of bacon from pastured pigs, John Stoltzfoos’ Millport Dairy Farm in the Union Square Greenmarket
  • chives from Space at Ryder Farm (sprinkled on the eggs)
  • a bit of spicy parsley, from JoAnna Kang, of Windfall Farms (sprinkled on the eggs)
  • local sea salt from P.E. & D.D. Seafood Company (finishing)
  • La Baleine Sea Salt Coarse (cooking)
  • freshly ground black pepper from Whole Foods, its store brand
  • a small bottle of homemade olive oil-infused dried Brazilian wax peppers
  • leaves from a head of dark purple lettuce (probably a romaine form) from Kelly Quarton’s Quarton Farm
  • Renieris Estate ‘Divina’ (Koroneiki varietal) olive oil, Hania, Crete, Whole Foods Market (on the lettuce)
  • 2 chopped tomatillos from Eckerton Hill Farm
  • Whole Foods Market house Portuguese olive oil (in the skillet with the tomatillos)
  • 1 small scallion from Alex’s Tomato Farm in the Saturday 23rd Street farmers market (with the tomatillo)
  • 1 clove of ‘Chesnok Red’ garlic from Alewife Farm (with the tomatillo)
  • a chopped section from one green) jalapeño pepper from Alex’s Tomato Farm (with the tomatillo)
  • one finely chopped aji dulce pepper (no real heat) from Eckerton Hill Farm (on the tomatillo)
  • chopped fresh thyme from Quarton Farm (on the tomatillo)
  • ‘Delitia’ Burro di Bufala, Caserta, Campania (total fat 12g, 83% butter fat) from Eataly (on the side)
  • Vermont Creamery Butter (total fat 12g, 83% butter fat) from Eataly (added to the bacon fat for the eggs)
  • Seedy Grains bread (wheat, spelt, rye, barley flours, plus buckwheat, oats, flax, sesame, sunflower, pumpkin seeds) from Lost Bread Co. (older, so it was toasted) [pictured]
  • Homadama bread (wheat, corn, water, maple syrup, salt, slaked lime) from Lost Bread Co. (wasn’t toasted)

 

prosciutto, arugula; pasta, alliums, habanada, micro kale

There was a somewhat meaty first course and a vegan main, although since the flavors were so rich,  Barry had to ask me whether meat had any part in the latter. It did not, so I think the suggestion of it came from the savoriness of the habanada pepper, the smokiness of the toasted pine nuts, and/or the earthiness of the micro kale finish.

The antipasto, or the appetizer course, was more southern Italian than the next one.

  • slices from a 2-ounce package of la Quercia ‘Prosciutto Americano’ from Chelsea Whole Foods Market arranged beside some leaves of arugula from Jersey Farm Produce Inc. in the Saturday 23rd Street farmers market, that had been drizzled with olive oil (Renieris Estate ‘Divina’ (Koroneiki varietal), Hania, Crete, from Whole Foods Market, seasoned with local Long Island sea salt from P.E. & D.D. Seafood and freshly-ground black pepper, then one sliced ripe medium red heirloom tomato, its one overripe section first severed from the rest and discarded, placed on top of the arugula, also drizzled with a little of the oil, sprinkled with scissored chives from Space at Ryder Farm, and seasoned with salt and pepper too [the rosemary cracker in the picture to the right of the arugula is an errant part of the accompaniment to our drinks before dinner]
  • slices of ‘Whole wheat Redeemer Bread’ (wheat, water, salt) from Lost Bread Co. (not in the picture)

The primi, or main, in this case, to the extent that it echoed Italy at all, was the more northern Italian of the two.

  • one sliced red spring onion from Norwich Meadows Farm and one chopped clove of ‘Chesnok Red’ garlic from Alewife Farm heated until both were fragrant in a couple tablespoons of Whole Foods Market house Portuguese olive oil inside a large antique copper pot, followed by one thinly sliced habanada pepper from Alewife Farm stirred in, and then, as soon as it had finished cooking to an al dente state, 9 ounces from a one-pound box of Sfoglini Einkorn Macaroni, together with a cup of the cooking water, tossed in, the heat under the pan pushed to high and the mix cooked, stirring, until the liquid had emulsified, arranged in shallow bowls with a little olive oil drizzled around the edges, garnished with some micro kale from Norwich Meadows Farm 

 

marinated, breaded Swordfish, lemon; kale/mustard, garlic

There was nothing new in this entrée, except, I believe, for the greens, which were some kind of kale/mustard combination of which I didn’t get any description from the farmer the day I picked them up.

They were quite sweet, and delicious, with much of the flavor of mustard, but with little of the bitterness (which I actually like). Barry described them as “the habanada of mustard greens; all the flavorful goodness, but without the bitterness.

We were happy that the swordfish steak was a little larger than our usual share, because it was really, really good, and so were the very ripe tomatoes from which I had trimmed some portions that had gotten a bit too ripe.

  • one swordfish steak (17 ounces) from Pura Vida Seafood Company in the Union Square Greenmarket, halved, marinated for more than half an hour in a mixture of one thinly sliced red spring onion from Norwich Meadows Farm, a teaspoon of pungent dried Sicilian oregano from Buon Italia, little more than a pinch of dried Itria-Sirissi chili (peperoncino di Sardegna intero) from Buon Italia, and less than a couple tablespoons of olive oil, after which the steaks were drained and covered on both sides with a coating of homemade dried breadcrumbs (to help retain the moisture, and keep it from drying out), pan-grilled over medium-high heat for 4 minutes on each side, or until barely cooked all of the way through, removed, arranged on the plates, seasoned with a little local salt, Phil Karlin’s P.E. & D.D. Seafood Long Island Sound sea salt, a good amount of juice from an organic lemon from Westside Market squeezed on top, drizzled with olive oil, and garnished with micro chervil from Two Guys from Woodbridge

  • three small heirloom tomatoes from Jersey Farm Produce Inc. in the Saturday 23rd Street farmers market, sliced, seasoned with salt and pepper, heated over a low flame inside a copper skillet until softened, arranged on the plates and sprinkled with chopped thyme leaves from Quarton Farm