Damn if it isn’t a match made in heaven: Lamb and turnips (remembering Julia Child’s pairing, but here each prepared in a very simple form), along with the sweet-sour accompaniment of red-stem card stems, simply sautéed or braised.

• loin lamb chops from 3-Corner Field Farm, pan-grilled, then topped with a lovage salsa verde (capers, garlic, mustard, sherry vinegar, lovage, parsley, arugula, salt, pepper, and oil – the recipe from Skye Gyngell)
• young purple-top turnips from Norwich Meadows Farm, cut into half-inch pieces, tossed with oil, rosemary from Norwich Meadows Farm, salt, and pepper
• the stems of red-stem chard from Norwich Meadows Farm (the ‘green’ leaves having been enjoyed in an earlier meal), sautéed in oil, with a bit of garlic from Norwich Meadows Farm, briefly covered so that the water clinging to the stems providing a braising liquid which was then boiled off when the pot was uncovered, finished with salt, pepper, and a bit of olive oil for additional seasoning
• the wine was a Spanish red, Barahonda Barrrica Monastrell Syrah 2011

There were four people around the table tonight in the gallery two steps above the living room.  The light available was a little dimmer even than that of the already somewhat underlit breakfast room where we normally sit.  These two pictures are therefore even less crisp than most of those that appear here, but I think that they still give some indication of how delicious these rather minimal courses actually were, even if I did forget to include the 1 1/2 cups of heavy cream in the pasta mix (moral: never rush even the simplest of recipes).

• thinly-sliced Alto Adige/Südtirol Speck from Eataly, drizzled with Lamparelli olive oil from Buon Italia
• arugula from from Migliorelli Farm, dressed with the same oil, drops of lemon juice, salt, and pepper
• slices of ‘Rustico Classico” from Eataly
• the wine was an Italian white from the Marche, Falerio dei Colli Ascolan 2013, from Saladini Pilastri

• pasta shells, Grano Armando Lumache from Compania, via Eataly, boiled for a few minutes with chunks of cauliflower from Sycamore Farms, drained, then tossed in a large bowl with San Marzano canned tomatoes, roughly-grated pecorino and fontina, a bit of ricotta, a little more than half of a chopped jalapeño pepper from Paffenroth Gardens, a teaspoon of dried red pepper flakes, the mix arranged in an enameled cast iron pan with the top dotted with butter, and finally put into a hot oven for 25 minutes or so (the recipe is from “Cucina Simpatica“, here minus the 1 1/2 cups of heavy cream I forgot to add to the bowl)
• the wine was a Sicilian white, Tenuta Rapitalà Terre Siciliane Piano Maltese 2012

 

The desert was Ciao Bello Dark Chocolate Gelato, topped with shavings of candied ginger (sorry, I forgot to take a picture).

Since I had forgotten ahead of time to provide for a fish or meat entrée on a day when there was no Union Square Greenmarket and when I really wanted to serve some of the vegetables I had on hand, early this evening I headed down to Dickson’s Farmstand Meats in Chelsea Market and went home with two small (5-6 ounce) Tri-tip steaks.   They were surprisingly, and very enticingly well-marbled, which I thought was especially unusual for this cut.  Before I learned on line that Tri-tips actually were somewhat similar to Culotte steaks, I had already decided to treat them more or less as I had prepared those tasty cuts in the past, searing the steaks on both sides, then finishing the beef in a quick oven for only a few minutes.  The result was superb: The meat was cooked exactly as it should have been (partly from experience, partly from luck), and the taste was phenomenal, and we were treated to both at a very reasonable price per pound.

• Tri-tip steaks from Dickson’s Farmstand Meats, dried well, seared in a low-rimmed enameled cast iron pan, placed in a 425º oven for about seven minutes, removed, allowed to sit for a few minutes in the pan while being dressed with chopped shallots from Phillips Farm, a bit of lemon juice and olive oil, and a sprinkling of chopped parsley, also from Phillips Farm
• very small yellow pear tomatoes from Central Valley Farm, halved, tossed briefly into the pan in which the steal had been cooked, finished with chopped thyme from Stokes Farm
• spring onions [yep] from Berried Treasures, halved, rolled in olive oil, salt, and pepper, pan-grilled, finished with white balsamic vinegar, and a sprinkling of chopped  lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• red chard leaves from Norwich Meadows Farm, sautéed in olive oil, covered for a few minutes, uncovered while the liquid was boiled down most of the way,  seasoned with part of a crushed dried chile pepper, salt and black pepper, lemon juice, and a drizzle of oil
• the wine was an Argentinian red, Altos Las Hormigas Mendoza Malbec-Clasico 2013

The combination of Pasta and clams is so familiar, and there are so many ways to assemble the dish, that it’d be presumptuous of me to try to describe my own recipe – even if I had one.  The truth is, I seem to go about it a little differently each time, and I don’t think I could outline the procedure I followed this time, even if I thought is might be useful to me or to anyone reading this. In any event, it’s almost impossible to mess up this dish.

• I can only say that what I did tonight seemed to involve heating things in three different pots, at least one of them covered throughout; that is to say, there was one pot for preparing a sauce composed of olive oil, dried chiles, finely-chopped garlic from Norwich Meadows Farm, and chopped parsley from Phillips Farm, then one large pot for boiling the Setaro linguine, and a third, this one with a cover, for sure, for cooking the clams in their own moisture ten minutes or so, being careful to time the cooking in the last two pots so that the pasta would be finished at the same time as the bivalves; additional chopped parsley was sprinkled on the dish once everything was placed in serving bowls
• the wine was an Italian white, a Soave Classico Castelcerino Filippi 2011

**

This meal used the second half of our freezer stash of some wonderful rose veal meatballs from Gaia’s Breath Farm.   I picked them up from Summers End Orchard at New Amsterdam Market this summer.   Because of the corrupt marriage of corporate money and politics, the New Amsterdam Market is no more, at least for now, and since I don’t expect to be making my own balls, I’m going to have to find another, presumably even more local source.

• eight perfect sage leaves from Phillips Farm, cooked in butter in an enameled cast iron pan over moderately high heat until crisp, before transferred to a plate, then six rose veal meatballs from Gaia’s Breath Farm, purchased at the New Amsterdam Market this summer with the good graces of their friend Summers End Orchard in Unadilla, New York, lightly floured, cooked in the same butter over moderate heat until lightly browned, transferred to another plate and kept warm, white wine added to the pan and simmered until almost evaporated while scraping the brown bits from the bottom, a few tablespoons of good vegetable stock added and simmered two minutes, the meatballs transferred to the serving plates, their juices and the sauce poured over them, the sage leaves added as garnish
• fresh canary beans from Berried Treasures, rinsed and placed in a saucepan under two inches of water along with sage from Phillips Farm and a fresh bay leaf from West Side Market, slowly heated for about 25 minutes, then added to a mixture of sautéed shallots from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm and halved cherry tomatoes (yellow and red) from Berried Treasures, finished with lemon juice, and parsley from Phillips Farm
• a small collection of fennel stems, from the fennel bulb in the meal of the night before, from Norwich Meadow Farms, sautéed over medium high heat with garlic, chiles, and fennel seeds in a large iron pan until the fennel began to color, then, with the heat lowered and the pan covered, cooked for ten minutes, a very generous amount of chopped fennel fronds added at the end
• the wine was a light red from the Südtirol (northern Italy), Egger-Ramer Schiava Gentile – Edelvernatsch, Trentino-Alto Adige 2013  (I think this is actually what I should have used as the link for that wine;  if you go to the video, you’ll understand why I write that)

Eugen Wiškovský Eggs 1929

 

It was breakfast. But it started at one in the afternoon, and it was a Sunday, and it wasn’t simply eggs and toast, and it was shared with my best friend in all the world, and it lasted much longer than most breakfasts.   On the other hand, there were no mimosas.  We call this kind of occasional deviation from our cereal and fruit routine a breakfast-which-means-we-now-don’t-have-to-have-lunch breakfast.

Okay, maybe it was actually a brunch, even if there were no mimosas in sight and, except for our own conversation, it was pretty quiet in this breakfast room, where the meal was accompanied by Haydn piano sonatas or some such classics.

In the end it was only breakfast, and maybe it was also because I wasn’t totally awake yet, but it didn’t occur to me to snap a picture until long after we had finished making the toast on Sunday, even if it was absolutely delicious, and included some unusual elements.  Later in the day I realized that I could still post about it if  I found a sympathetic image on line which at least remotely related to our eggs, herbs, and near-bacon.  I looked, and decided to go with one of the most abstract egg-scapes I had come across (and not least because it was one with which not everyone out there would be familiar).

We did skip lunch.

Even had Barry not been sitting across from me, it was a very beautiful [br]unch table.   Absent a photo document, you’ll have to take my word for the aesthetics of the eggs, but it should not take a huge leap of faith, since eggs are notoriously photogenic even without any help.

• very fresh, organic eggs (of free-range hens) from Norwich Meadows Farm, fried in a enameled cast iron pan until the whites had barely set, served with delicious slices of cured pork shoulder (‘bacon’, but tasting more like a cross between bacon and corned beef) from Tamarack Hollow Farm, barely heated above a low flame in the 12″ cast iron super pan, and toasts of  Sullivan Street Bakery’s sturdy Trucio Saré; the condiments on the table included a bit of the herb-lemon zest sauce not used on the swordfish the night before, now mixed with a bit of yellow Thai pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm, and a small ramekin filled with chopped fennel fronds from Norwich Meadows Farm

[image from Something Between Want and Desire]

This swordfish recipe is subject to an infinite number of variations, as it’s basically only a matter of assembling virtually any number and kind of herbs, in combination with finely-minced garlic, lemon zest, and oil, in order to cover two surfaces of a swordfish fillet.  I put together a meal very similar to this one at the end of August.   This particular formula has become a swordfish favorite of ours, possibly displacing the delicious variations of this earlier hit.

• swordfish from PE & DD Seafood, herb-rubbed (this time using oregano and Marjoram from Central Valley Farm, parsley and sage from Phillips Farm, thyme from Stokes Farm, and lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge), along with lemon zest and finely-minced garlic from Garden of Spices Farm, all chopped together with salt and pepper, then pan-grilled while basting with some of the reserved rub mixture, finished with a squeeze of lemon and a drizzle of olive oil
• turnip greens from Norwich Meadows Farm, wilted along with halved garlic cloves from Garden of Spices Farm which had been lightly-browned in olive oil
• a salad of wedges cut from four small heirloom tomatoes (red, green, orange and yellow) from Berried Treasures, dressed with chopped copper fennel fronds from Norwich Meadows Farm, some good olive oil, and dashes of white balsamic vinegar
• the wine was an Italian white, le Salse, Verdicchio di matelica 2013 from Flatiron Wines

This meal was almost an exact repeat of one we enjoyed two months ago, except for some of the details of the ingredients and their sources, and the fact that this time I cut the single fillet into six pieces rather than four before breading and sautéing them. Also, there were more fennel fronds involved – because they were there, and because I really love them.

This is the somewhat feverish post I published in August, where I included two images; the description of last night’s meal is below.

• a one-pound pollock fillet from Pura Vida, cut into six sections, dredged in seasoned flour, sautéed in olive oil over a fairly high flame, served with a salsa fresca (assembled just before the fish was begun) of halved red and gold cherry tomatoes from Berried Treasures, minced garlic from Garden of Spices Farm and a minced small onion from Phillips Farm, chopped lovage from Keith’s Farm, a whole fresh yellow Thai pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm, sherry vinegar, salt, and pepper [the basic recipe is from Mark Bittman’s “Fish Complete Guide to Buying and Cooking”];   the vegetable accompaniment was a separated bulb of fennel from Norwich Meadow Farms sautéed over medium high heat with garlic, chiles, and fennel seeds in a large iron pan until the fennel began to color, then, with the heat lowered and the pan covered, cooked for ten minutes, a very generous amount of chopped fennel fronds added at the end [the “Slow-cooked fennel” recipe is from “Italian Easy: Recipes from the London River Cafe“]
• the wine was a Portuguese white, Aveleda Douro D.O.C. 2012

I’ve written about this terrific recipe before, and it was described by Sarah Dickerman in the New York Times in 2006

Unfortunately the picture was snapped before I added some of the extraordinary juices from the bottom of the pot, so the bivalves look a little high and dry here.

• two pounds of scrubbed mussels purchased from Blue Moon Fish from  in the Union Square Greenmarket, combined in a large heavy enameled pot with two cups of a variety of halved heirloom cherry tomatoes from Berried Treasures, half a cup of a good white wine, a few tablespoons of chopped shallots form Phillips Farm, three tablespoons of butter, a good amount of freshly-ground black pepper, and some coarsely-chopped lovage from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, everything steamed over high heat for a few minutes, then served with thick slices of Trucio from Sullivan Street Bakery (a superb rustic sourdough bread with a dark crust)
• the wine was a New Zealand white, Oyster Bay Sauvignon Blanc, 2013, from Marlborough

Since we were expecting to be out fairly late last night, gallivanting with Richard Strauss’s family and the American Symphony Orchestra, I decided the day before that there there would be no time to actually cook something when we returned home.  There were other possibilities than leftover pasta (excellent pizza, delivered, or maybe one of Mark Bittman’s 10-minute meals), so we weren’t going to starve, but I was pretty sure that a return engagement of my smoked striped bass spaghetti would be at least as good as the first.

I was right, and in fact I had underestimated how good it would be.  I had set aside about a quarter of the pasta before mixing the rest with the ingredients described Tuesday when I first prepared this dish warm.  Last night I added the plain spaghetti to the rest and found the taste with the ‘diluted’ smoked fish was more subtle – in fact even better – than before.  What did I learn, or re-learn?  That smoked anything goes a long way when mixed with other ingredients.  The taste lesson could also be money-saver as well.

I hadn’t expected the meal to be as interesting as it turned out to be, so this time there were no photos as we sat down.  In lieu of a bowl of pasta above I’ve included an image from the farmers’ Greenmarket which includes the two tomatoes I had added to the dish before serving it last night.

• the remaining spaghetti with shallots, garlic, tomatoes, parsley, and smoked Striped Bass, from two nights back, removed from the refrigerator, tossed with two chopped heirloom tomatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm and some more parsley from Paffenroth Gardens, more chiles, and a bit of black pepper, while being brought almost to room temperature, then drizzled with a bit of olive oil and sprinkled with more parsley
• the wine was an Italian white, a surprisingly good Orvietto, Palazzone Orvieto Classico 2013