At this point, having already done this basic preparation a number of times, using several kinds of fish, I don’t feel I can write anything that the picture above can’t convey pretty well on its own.

The only thing slightly out of the ordinary about the preparation was that I used 2 different potato varieties, but that was only because I didn’t have enough of the one I had wanted to use because it had been around for a while and was beginning to sprout.

The Carola, in the Greenmarket, when first purchased, 3 weeks ago:

The Dark Red Norland, in the Greenmarket yesterday:

• two 9-ounce cod fillets from Seatuck Fish Company in the Union Square Greenmarket, prepared more or less from a recipe from Mark Bittman which I originally came across almost 12 years ago: the cod washed and rinsed, placed in a platter on a bed of coarse sea salt, more added on top, until they were completely covered, set aside while preparing a bed of potatoes for them by slicing to a thickness of less than 1/4 inch, about 14 ounces of 2 kinds of potatoes, scrubbed but unpeeled, one Dark Norland Red from Norwich Meadows Farm and 2 Carola from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, tossing them in a large bowl with olive oil, salt, pepper, and a large pinch of golden home-dried Habanada pepper [acquired fresh last fall from Norwich Meadows Farm], arranging the potatoes, overlapping, in a rectangular glazed ceramic oven pan, cooking them for 20 or 25 minutes in a 400º oven, or until they were tender when pierced, meanwhile, before the potatoes had fully cooked, the cod thoroughly immersed in many changes of water in order to bring down the saltiness (incidentally the soaking process somehow gives the fish more solidity, which can be easily felt while handling it at this point), draining and drying the two pieces before placing them inside the pan on top of the potatoes, drizzling them with a little olive oil and scattering some freshly-ground pepper over them, returning the pan to the oven for 8 to 12 minutes (the time would depend on the thickness of the cod), removing the fish with a spatula (or, much better, 2 spatulas) along with as much of the potatoes as can be brought with each piece, and arranging everything, intact if possible, onto 2 plates, returning to the pan for the remainder of the potatoes, snow pea sprouts from Windfall Farms scattered over the top

 

Its now early February, but I may have more green vegetables in the refrigerator crisper than I can properly handle (aside from herbs and micro greens, there’s Cavalo Nero, Savoy cabbage, radish greens, Japanese scallions, a little leek, a little celery, and collard greens). Last night I used most of a bunch of the beautiful collards I had picked up on Monday.

• 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 until barely softened inside a heavy oval enameled cast iron pot in which one halved clove of quartered garlic from Lucky Dog Organic Farm had first been allowed to sweat in some olive oil, adding some of the reserved water along the way if necessary, finished with salt, pepper, a little crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a California (Lodi) white, Karen Birmingham Sauvignon Blanc Lodi 2015
• the music was the 1975 Philip Glass/Robert Wilson opera, ‘Einstein On The Beach’, in a new recording with Michael Riesman conducting the Philip Glass Ensemble, the complete list of performers included on the ArkivMusic page 

I really think the approach I used here, and have used many times before, is the best way to treat a good pork chop – or two – and, as with the best recipes, its simplicity makes it possible to invent any number of variations.

Last night however there were no twists, not even a last-minute fresh herb, really (this time I saved my futzing for the vegetables).

• two 8-ounce bone-in loin pork chops from Flying Pig Farm, thoroughly dried, seasoned with salt and pepper and seared quickly in a heavy enameled cast-iron pan before half of a local sweet lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island was squeezed over the top (which was then left in the pan between them, cut side down), the chops placed in a 425º oven for about 14 minutes (flipped halfway through, the lemon squeezed over them once again and replaced), removed from the oven and place on plates, the small amount (this time) of juices left in the pan spooned over them
• micro snow pea shoots from Windfall Farms arranged to the side

I had picked up a small bundle of ‘French breakfast radishes’ two days before Friday’s dinner, when I decided to serve their greens, wilted, while they were still fresh. Because I love sautéed or roasted radishes, of any kind, I didn’t look any further for a vegetable to accompany the pork. Once I had pulled the roots and greens from the crisper however I realized there wasn’t really much of either, so I added a small parsley root and a few scallions to the mix.

• one small parsley root [petroselinum crispum tuberosum] from Norwich Meadow Farm, scrubbed, trimmed, and diced, sautéed in a little more than a total of a tablespoon of olive oil and butter inside a large enameled cast iron pot until almost softened, then 2 garlic cloves, halved, from Tamarack Hollow Farm and a small bunch of ‘French breakfast’ radishes from Eckerton Hill Farm, cleaned and scrubbed, added to the pot and cooked until they had softened, but just before that time 3 thin scallions from Norwich Meadows Farm, sliced, added to the mix, followed by the washed radish greens, the vegetables seasoned with salt and pepper, and a little Washington State riesling added and stirred in for a minute or two before being served
• the wine was a Spanish (Rioja) white, Real Rubio Blanco, Rioja 2014
• the music was the fantastic album, ‘Gisela May: Brecht Songs by Hanns Eisler and Paul Dessau‘

This was an wonderful dinner, largely because of my muse.

Otherwise, while physically it seemed to me to come out of nowhere, in fact virtually every bit of this meal had come from the Union Square Greenmarket, which means our local farmers and fishers.

Of course t hadn’t arrived on the table full-blown, but 2 or 3 hours before we sat down I still barely knew the half of what it would be. It had all started at the Greenmarket, with a beautiful bass fillet, one of only 2 remaining in the fishmonger’s stall at 1:45 that afternoon; minutes later I spotted our Wednesday mushroom farmer, where one sign jumped out at me: ‘oyster mushrooms’ (apposite for this seafood moment); then, once home and looking through my digital grocery inventory for a vegetable to accompany the mushroom-dressed fish, I read ‘Magic Molly purple potatoes’ and knew I had found it. With the addition of a micro green for color, texture, freshness, and even a little spice, the meal had at least been assembled in my mind.

• one Black sea bass (just under 12 ounces) from American Seafood Company, washed, dried, seasoned on both sides with salt and pepper, sautéed 2-3 minutes over a fairly brisk flame with butter and a little olive oil inside a large, thick oval copper pan, skin side down, then turned and the other side cooked for about the same length of time, removed to 2 warm plates when done and covered at least a little, 2 tablespoons of butter added to the pan, and 6 ounces of oyster mushrooms [pleurotus ostreatus] from Bulich Mushroom Company, cut into large-ish pieces (in this case, mostly just detaching the lobes), sautéed, stirring, until lightly cooked, the mushrooms seasoned with salt, pepper, a couple tablespoons of chopped parsley from Eataly, and a tablespoon and a half of the juice of a sweet local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island added, the mushrooms stirred some more before they and the juices were spooned onto and at the side of the fish (I generally think the skin of the bass is too beautiful to disguise entirely)

The potatoes were extraordinary (the almost-black color remained true throughout the cooking, the taste was wonderful, the texture waxy, moist, and succulent).

• seven ‘Magic Molly‘ large purple fingerling potatoes from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, halved lengthwise, and one quite small red onion from Norwich Meadows Farm, thinly-sliced, tossed with a little olive oil, salt, pepper, fresh rosemary from Hoeffner Farms, arranged, the potatoes cut-side down, on a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, the roasted at about 375º for about 25 minutes, or until cooked through, the cut side beginning to brown (if it’s possible to tell, since the color is already almost black)
• micro snow pea shoots from Windfall Farms
• 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 2015, by Alexandra Farber
• the music was Philip Glass, his 1977-1978 opera, “Satyagraha’, Christopher Keene conducting the New York City Opera Orchestra and the New York City Opera Chorus, with Douglas Perry, Claudia Cummings, Rhonda Liss, Robert McFarland, Scott Reeve, and Sheryl Woods

This was at least the third dinner of venison we’ve enjoyed this winter, and preparing it this time was even easier than usual because of some leftovers and a very easy-going root vegetable purchased in the Greenmarket over a month before.

• eight ounces of a D’Artagnan New Zealand venison ‘shortloin’, from Frank at O. Ottomanelli & Sons, that had been cut from the larger piece which we had enjoyed one month before, dried, rubbed with olive oil and a very generous coating of freshly-cracked black peppercorns, set aside for more than half an hour, after which it was placed over moderately high heat in 1 to 2 tablespoons of a combination of butter and olive oil inside an oval 11-inch enameled cast iron pan, cooked barely medium rare, which meant about 2 minutes on one side, or until juices had begun accumulating on the top, turned and cooked for another 2 minutes, cut into 2 pieces and transferred to warm plates, the bottom of the pan scraped with a wooden spatula to collect the juices, 2 tablespoons of brandy (Courvoisier V.O., as it happened) added to the pan and cooked over high heat until very much reduced [this time almost immediately!] before the sauce was poured over the meat, which was then garnished with chopped parsley from Eataly
• seven purple-topped turnips from Alewife Farm, washed, scrubbed, peeled, cut into half-inch-thick slices, tossed with olive oil, salt, pepper, and rosemary leaves from Hoeffner Farms, roasted in a large unglazed Pampered Chef ceramic pan for about 30 minutes at 425º, or until tender and beginning to carbonize, one green section of a baby leek from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, sliced in half-inch segments, added half-way through, and, once removed from the oven, the sprouting light ‘greens’ that had been trimmed from the roots, slightly wilted, added to the vegetables, which were then arranged on plates, some Hong Vit micro radish sprinkled on top
• red cabbage, remaining from an earlier, even richer meal, reheated
• the wine was an Austrian (Burgenland) red, Zweigelt, Rosi Schuster 2013 (St.Laurent and Blaufrankisch grapes), from Astor Wines
• the music was that of Philip Glass, his 1983 opera, ‘Akhnaten’* Dennis Russell Davies conducting the Stuttgart State Opera Orchestra and the Stuttgart State Opera Chorus, with Milagro Vargas, Melinda Liebermann, Tero Hannula, Helmut Holzapfel , Cornelius Hauptmann, Victoria Schneider, Lynne Wilhelm-Königer, Maria Koupilová-Ticha, Paul Esswood, Geraldine Rose, Angelika Schwarz, David Warrilow, and Christina Wächtler

* I find ‘Akhnaten’ profoundly moving, although most critics have thought it less successful than the rest of the Glass trilogy. I think my relationship to it is independent of my experience and impressions in a trip I made to Egypt 30 years ago. I never visited el-Amarna, but I did trek through the Valley of Kings, and there I picked up several of the ordinary golden stones which compose the dry landscape. The picture below is of one of them, perhaps a piece of marl or marlstone; I found it on the trail which leads down the mountain to the Mortuary Temple of Hatshepsut. It has acquired a patina from handling it on the table where I spend much of my time, and today, if only because of its origin, it looks to me very much like a large scarab, although somewhat abstracted.

Golden were the fish and the beets both, but the leeks, micro greens, and Brussels sprouts, also a part of this meal, might better represent the gold of the sun, barely visible in late January (fairly or not, we associate that orb with the green above ground more than the roots below). The date was January 30.

I love this simple recipe, suitable for almost any white fish fillets. I had originally heard about it from the late Kyle Phillips, on the site he had edited, Italian Food on about.com. I have never moved through it the same way twice.

• two flounder fillets (5 ounces each) from P.E. & D. D. Seafood, seasoned with salt and pepper on both sides, coated lightly with well-seasoned North Country Farms Stone Ground Whole Wheat Flour, then submerged in a shallow bowl containing a mixture of one egg from Millport Dairy, a little whole milk, and a pinch of salt, allowed to stay submerged until the vegetables had been cooked and the remaining ingredients for the fish prepared, then removed from the bowl, placed inside a heavy ton-lined oval copper pan with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, fried over a brisk flame until golden, barely two minutes for each side, the fillets removed, arranged on warm plates, the heat under the pan turned lower, 3 tablespoons of butter added with 2 sliced scallions from Norwich Meadows Farm, a little golden home-dried habanada pepper (acquired fresh last season from Norwich meadows Farm), salt, and pepper, allowed to cook together, stirring, without browning the butter, for about one minute, then more than a tablespoon of lemon juice introduced into the pan and quickly stirred, the sauce which was produced now poured over the plated fillets, some micro Hong Vit radish scattered next to them

The vegetable accompaniment was a concoction triggered by what I had in the crisper.

• golden (or red) beets from Norwich Meadows Farm, scrubbed, peeled, tossed in a little olive oil, salt, and pepper, placed inside a large seasoned Pampered Chef pan and baked at 450º for about 25 minutes, or until softened and only beginning to brown, adding, part of the way through, some very small Brussels sprouts taken from 2 stalks of the little cabbages, also from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, trimmed, and also tossed with olive oil, salt, and pepper

• the wine was a California (Sonoma) white, Scott Peterson Rumpus Chardonnay 2014, from Naked Wines
• the music was Haydn’s 1782 opera, ‘Orlando Paladino’, Antal Doráti conducting the 
  Lausanne Chamber Orchestra, with Elly Ameling, Gwendolyn Killebrew, George Shirley, Claes H. Ahnsjö, Benjamin Luxon, Domenico Trimarchi, Maurizio Mazzieri, Gabor Carelli, and Arleen Augér

It’s a beautiful fish, with a delicate red skin, although the color mostly disappears with cooking.

New York venders (and restaurants?) sometimes call it ‘redfish’, but usually it’s ‘sea perch’ or ‘ocean perch’, even if it bears little resemblance to the fresh water perch I grew up with around the Great Lakes.  The brilliant color of its scales and its skin would be enough evidence of the distinction, but I have to admit, even at this gap in time and distance from 1940s-50s Michigan and Wisconsin, there may be something to be said about the similarities in taste.

The French know it as Rascasse, but there’s some confusion with names on the other side of the Atlantic because it apparently belongs to the family, ‘scorpaenidae‘, which also includes the scorpionfish.

This looks like the best answer to the question, ‘what is it?’

 

• four fillets of red sea perch (19 ounces) from Pura Vida Seafood, brushed with olive oil and one chopped garlic clove from Tamarack Hollow Farm, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground pepper, then broiled, 4 inches from the flames, for about 4 minutes until the skin was crisp and the fish cooked through, sauced with a bit of olive oil in which 3 salted anchovies from Buon Italia, rinsed and filleted, had been heated over a very low flame for about 5 minutes until they had fallen apart (the sauce having been kept warm while waiting for the fish to cook), the fillets finished on the plates with chopped parsley from Eataly

I had collected two kinds of beautiful small carrots in recent visits to the Greenmarket, and last night I decided it was time to enjoy them both.

• ‘Purple Haze’ (the purple ones, a hybrid) and ‘Kyoto’ (the red-orange ones, an heirloom) carrots from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, trimmed, scrubbed, and dried, tossed in a very little olive oil with salt and pepper, spread inside a large seasoned Pampered Chef pan and baked at 400º until tender (the time would depend on size; these took little more than 15 minutes), finished with a combination of chopped thyme from Eataly and oregano from Stokes Farm
• the wine was a California (Napa) white, La Tapatia Chardonnay Carneros 2015, from Naked Wines
• the music was the last parts of Handel’s 1730 comic opera seria [sic], ‘Partenope’, with Riccardo Minasi conducting Il Pomo d’Oro, which we had begun to listen to the night before

While there was both a primo and a secondo, it was still a very low-stress meal to prepare, probably helping to explain why it turned out so totally delicious.

 

The first course was very simple.

• a small amount of leftover celeriac pasta from Tuesday, arranged in shallow bowls with a little upland cress from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• the wine was a California (Sonoma) white, Scott Peterson Rumpus California Sauvignon Blanc 2015, from Naked Wines

The main course may have been considerably more rich, but it was on an almost equally modest scale in volume, and also arguably far less complicated in its makeup.

I can’t resist a carbon footprint note: Virtually everything in this meal was grown locally.

Roasting Rick Bishop’s wonderful ruby crescents was a lot easier – and the end result a lot healthier – than making homemade fries, as in the ‘steak and French fries’ I grew up with, which seemed to be everyone’s favorite dinner in the 40s and 50s.

• one grass-fed 10-ounce New York strip steak purchased from John Stoltzfoos at his family’s Millport Dairy Farm stall in the Union Square Greenmarket, pan grilled (seasoned on both sides only after each had been seared) over a medium-high flame, until medium rare, cut into 2 servings, each spread with half of a tablespoon of a softened composed butter (butter which had remained after this meal last fall, and had been divided into one-tablespoon packages; it was composed of softened ‘Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter‘ flavored with a small amount of toasted and crushed dried fennel seed; a few drops of Worcestershire sauce; salt; pepper; a couple ounces of Gorgonzola Casarrigoni from Whole Foods; and a sprinkling of crushed home-dried, very dark, heatless habanada peppers), the steak allowed to rest a few minutes before being served garnished with Hong Vit micro radish from Windfall Farms
• ruby crescent potatoes from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, halved lengthwise, tossed with a little olive oil, salt, pepper, golden home-dried habanada pepper, fresh sage from Keith’s Farm, fresh rosemary from Hoeffner Farms, arranged cut side down on a medium Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at about 375º for about 20 or 25 minutes
• the wine was a terrific Washington (Columbia Valley) red, Powers Cabernet Sauvignon Columbia Valley 2014. from Chelsea Wine Vault

 

• the music throughout was Handel’s 1730 comic opera seria [sic], ‘Partenope’, with Riccardo Minasi conducting Il Pomo d’Oro

This is a wonderful fish, and the simple recipe I used last night allows its own virtues to be fully savored.

The image immediately below is of the fillets in the marinade, and the bowl of uncooked washed and cut greens).

• two 7 1/2-ounce fillets of Squeteague (aka ‘Weakfish’ or Sea/Ocean Trout) from American Seafood Company, marinated for about half an hour on the counter in a mix of a little olive oil, one minced garlic clove, and 5 different herbs (2 crushed fresh bay leaves from West Side Market, fresh oregano from Stokes Farm; fresh parsley, thyme, and mint from Eataly; and fresh tarragon from Whole Foods), drained, sautéed/fried for about 2 minutes in a heavy, lightly-oiled (one tablespoon), tin-lined oval copper pan which had been pre-heated to medium-hot, skin-slide down first, the fillets then turned and cooked for another minute, until opaque and firm, drizzled with some of the marinade and served

Resting inside a tub in the Greenmarket earlier that day – near the end of January – the collards were totally irresistible.

• young collards from Norwich Meadows Farm, cut as a very rough chiffonade, braised until barely softened inside a heavy enameled cast iron pot in which one halved clove of quartered garlic from Lucky Dog Organic Farm had first been allowed to sweat in some olive oil, the greens finished with salt, pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil

There was a very good cheese course, but I neglected to photograph it.

• three cheeses, ‘Arethusa Blue’, a Connecticut blue cow cheese from Eataly, Consider Bardwell’s ‘Slybro’ goat cheese, and their ‘Barden’ blue cow cheese, served with slices of a very fresh, extraordinarily delicious She Wolf Bakery sourdough baguette

 

• the wine throughout was a California (Napa) white, Sin Fronteras Chardonnay Napa 2015, from Naked Wines
• the music throughout was Anton Bruckner’s Symphony No. 6, Daniel Barenboim conducting the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra

It was to be one of those intervals between nights which featured meat or fish, and it was going to be either a frittata or a pasta. The decision was made shortly after I began burrowing around in my vegetable inventory. There I found a tidy cache of celery root, and not much more. Looking around on the internet, I soon realized that a marriage of celeriac and pasta didn’t seem at all out of the question, especially with the right condiments, and my kitchen can usually provide those.

The recipe with which inspired me asked for ham, cut into small strips. I didn’t have ham, which would have been fairly thick, but I did have some very thinly-sliced Speck. I cut it only into segments, which was a mistake: I should have expected that they wouldn’t stay separated; it would have been better to chop the Speck very finely.

Have I said often enough before now that I love anything celery-ish?

• one finely-chopped yellow onion from Tamarack Hollow Farm sautéed for about 5 minutes in 4 tablespoons of melted butter inside an enameled cast iron pot, then set aside while cooking a little more than a pound of cubed celery root, also from Tamarack Hollow Farm, in boiling salted water until very soft, or about 10 minutes, the celeriac drained and added to the pot with the onion and squashed down a bit, a few tablespoons of Trickling Springs local organic milk added and the whole gently warmed through, then mixed with 8 ounces of Afeltra Pasta di Gragnano penne rigate, from Eataly, cooked al dente, around half of a cup of Parmigiano-Reggiano Vache Rosse from Eataly mixed in, finished with the chopped green section of a baby leek from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, some chopped parsley from Eataly and scissored chives from Two Guys from Woodbridge, with more cheese sprinkled on the top of each serving once the pasta had been divided into 2 shallow bowls and garnished with some parsley and chive
• the wine was a California (Lodi) white, Poppy Fields Pinot Grigio Lodi 2016, by Ernie Weir, from Naked Wines
• the music was Haydn’s 1773 short comic opera, ‘L’infeledtà Delusa’ (Deceit Outwitted), with Barbara Hendricks, Edith Mathis, Claes H. Ahnsjö, Aldo Baldin, and Michael Devlin, Antal Doráti conducting the Lausanne Chamber Orchestra, the recording itself from the late 1970s

[aka crispy pork knuckles, potato dumplings, red cabbage]

 

Somewhere, while doing research for this meal, I came across a reference to a Bavarian proverb intended to reassure a cook worried about how large a knuckle to use: ‘‘S is ned, wia grous’ s is, aba wia guad’ s is.‘, it goes, at least as I translated it from the English into Boarisch, with some online help. I think the English went something like, ‘It’s not how big it is, but how good it is’.

Barry and I both had numerous occasions to vouch for the goodness of Schweinhaxe, and we’ve never had one that was too small – or too large – and they’ve all been very good.

The difference between Eisbein and Schweinshaxe may not always be hard and fast (puns intended), but basically Eisbein, often associated with Berlin, is a cured or smoked (gepökelt oder geräuchertes) knuckle, and Schweinshaxe, very big in Bavaria, is fresh pork. They are both deceptively and incredibly delicious.

I’ve cooked pork knuckles before, in that case, 2 years ago, it was smoked Eisbein (beziehungsweise, geräucherte Schweinshaxe); last night I tried my hand at ‘Schweinshaxn‘ (the Bavarian spelling).

I combed my books, paper files, and the internet in order to assemble a working model of a recipe. I ended up using most of that included in the large compendium, ‘Culinaria Germany‘.

We were both delighted with the result, but I should leave the cook (me, and whoever) with a lesson and a suggestion:

1.  At the last minute I realized that the only beer I had on hand wasn’t a dark brew,   which would be preferred in Bayern, but our nor’easter persuaded me not to go fetch another, so I went with the Pavoni, which may have been waiting for its star turn.
2. I was very concerned ahead of time with getting the skin crispy, but only succeeded partially; with hindsight, I believe that finishing the knuckles on a grill pan might have produced the ideal result.

I’ve included images of the vegetables in the pan after the meat had been browned, and another which shows the hocks returned to the pan, before being placed in the oven.

• two 24-ounce pork knuckles from Flying Pigs Farm, left sitting upright inside the refrigerator overnight, their sides left bare, tops covered with plastic wrap, removed the next day, rinsed, patted dry, the skin scored to the extent possible (it’s very tough, especially after drying out some), to increase the chances of it becoming crispy, rubbed on all surfaces with the open side of a large clove of garlic from Tamarack Hollow Farm and a mixture of sea salt and freshly-ground pepper, toothpicks inserted to help keep the skin and meat lined up together, seared thoroughly in veal lard (rendered months ago from fat purchased from Consider Bardwell Farm and then frozen), inside a very heavy enameled cast iron dutch oven, removed, and diced soup vegetables (onion from Tamarack Hollow Farm, celery from Foragers, ‘Purple Haze’ carrots from Norwich Meadows Farm, young leeks from Lucky Dog Organic Farm), some Lucky Dog celery greens, sprigs of Italian parsley from Eataly, 2 Sicilian bay leaves from Buon Italia, and half a dozen bruised juniper berries were added to the pan, stirred and sautéed briefly, followed by one cup of fresh water, the pot covered with its self-basting lid, placed inside a preheated (325º F) oven, for about 2 1/4 hours, basting every half hour with at least half a bottle of beer (ideally any dark beer, but I only had a light Pavoni), the pot removed from the oven, which was turned up to 450º, the Haxen removed to a smaller, low-sided, oval enameled cast iron pan and returned to the oven, and later the broiler, to become crispy (watching carefully all along), while the remainder of the beer was added to the large Dutch oven in which the pork had been braising with the vegetables, the uncovered pot boiled over a high flame until the liquid had reduced somewhat, when it was seasoned with salt and pepper, strained through a sieve into a warm sauceboat (the vegetables put aside and retained for use in another meal), the knuckles arranged on plates and coated with some of the sauce, the remainder placed on the table

If you think you’d like a tasty savory carbohydrate with the texture of mom’s sponge cake, you’ll love Kartoffelklöße (also Kartoffelknödel) as much as we do. They may also be one of the easiest side dishes ever, as long as you have access to a great market like Schaller & Weber.

• four frozen Kartoffelklöße (potato dumplings) from Schaller & Weber, defrosted the day before, boiled for about 12 minutes in salted water, drained and arranged on the plates, some of the Schweinshaxn sauce ladled on top

Here I’ve used the image of cabbage in the greenmarket that appeared on this blog once before, but then it was to illustrate a post about a meal which incorporated only a leaf or two. In fact I had bought this head almost a full month ago (winter vegetables, while limited in their variety, are often very forgiving about home storage issues), so the picture probably deserved a revisit.

For the red cabbage I began with a recipe published by Martha Stewart because I didn’t have enough time for the more authentic Mimi Sheraton German version, however I found myself sweetening it near the end (to relate better to the Bavarian elements in the rest of the meal)

• a little veal and duck fat from earlier dinners, heated to medium-high heat in an enameled cast iron pan, then one 24-ounce red cabbage from Hoeffner Farms, finely-sliced, and several small roughly-chopped shallots from Norwich Meadows Farm (and one small ‘red wing’ onion from Keith’s Farm) added and cooked, stirring occasionally, until the cabbage had softened slightly (about 15 minutes), after that some salt, lemon juice, local apple cider vinegar from Face Farm were added, plus a sprinkling of freshly-ground black pepper, the heat reduced and the mixture cooked about 10 minutes more, or until the cabbage was wilted and the shallots softened, a little turbinado sugar added and stirred in, followed by a few tablespoons of a mix of raisins, and some red current jelly, all stirred into the pan

 

• the wine was a German (Baden) red, Blauer Spätburgunder Tschuppen 2013
• the music was Anton Bruckner’s Symphony No. 8, Daniel Barenboim conducting the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra