tomato solar system of sorts

 

antipasto

 

pasta

 

Simple again.

I started with a package of Colamecos’ uncured soppressata which had been lying in the refrigerator, waiting, and I was once again reminded of how good this product is, and how well it keeps until called to introduce a meal.  The minutina, from Norwich Meadows Farm, was what remained from yesterday’s dinner, the pasta had been lying in the freezer (and in fact didn’t have to be defrosted at all).  The tomatoes, from Berried Treasures Farm, had been on the windowsill, and the fresh fennel seeds, from Lani’s Farm, were what remained from a bunch of fennel branches I had ‘harvested’ for a meal two days earlier.

It wasn’t fast food, but it wasn’t really slow, and it was good.

NOTE:  I have to be honest about the first picture at the top:  While I had intended to use all four of those tomatoes, I ended up slicing only the first, second, and fourth from the left. For those who might be interested, the smallest tomato, a single Mexico ‘midget’, had escaped my eye when I was rounding up the rest of its kind for last night’s meal.

• The soppressata came from Whole Foods; the minutina, drizzled with good olive oil and a squeeze of lemon, was from Norwich Meadows Farm, and was combined with some unpitted Gaeta olives from Buon Italia; the baguette was from Balthazar’s, via the Whole Foods bakery counter
• the Rana artichoke- and ricotta-filled ravioli was from Eataly, the tomatoes were from Berried Treasures Farm; they were sauced with one clove of John D. Madura Farm garlic, sliced, which had been heated in olive oil, and freshly-ground black pepper; some pasta cooking water was added to the mix while it was warming up on top of the stove, and the plates were sprinkled with fresh fennel seeds from Lani’s Farm
• the wine was an Italian (Vicenza) sparkling, Prosecco Brut Primaterra NV Montorso Vicentino I
• the music was Bruckner Symphony No 2, the Berlin Philharmonic conducted by Daniel Barenboim

In preparing of each of the elements of this meal I departed a bit from my usual treatment, but not always intentionally.

• I prepared the peppers, small shishito from Lani’s Farm just a little more elaborately than usual, but there’s not a lot to be gained in repeating the same formula over and over again, at least when it comes to cookery; I added thin slices of lemon towards the end of the peppers’ time blistering in the pan, and served them on the table with a choice of three salts (two of them flavored) plain, classic Maldon, smoked alderwood from The Filling Station, and ‘Sel Magique‘ (I had forgotten that I also had my own lemon-caper salt sitting in the cupboard as well)
• the wine was a California white, Hanging Vine Chardonnay Parcel 4 Lodi 2014

 

The main course would already have been a variation on a classic Thomas Keller recipe, but I altered it even further, in this case inadvertently. This is how my own version of the recipe for the cod was supposed to go:

two cod fillets from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, brought to room temperature and seasoned with salt on both sides, the top of each piece brushed with a little real dijon mustard mixed with a very little water, that side then dipped in a mixture of homemade breadcrumbs and finely-chopped parsley from Keith’s Farm, browned briefly, breadcrumb side down, in a heavy enameled cast iron pan with olive oil, transferred to a 325º oven and cooked until the fish begins to flake, near the end of the cooking adding tiny ‘Mexico Midget’ vine tomatoes from Berried Treasures, arranging them on the cod after it was filleted

But, probably because I was tired, and a little distracted, I forgot to bread the two fillets, so, as soon as I had had put them into the pan, I removed them and dipped them in the breadcrumb mixture I had placed in a bowl on the counter, and then, in returning them to the pan, I neglected to return them with the breaded sides down; finally, I almost forgot to toss the tomatoes into the pan before the cod was finished cooking.

I was surprised that everything turned out okay, and in the end the fish didn’t even look messy. More importantly, it was delicious, probably meaning it was a good recipe – and surely a keeper.

• As for the minutina, from Norwich Meadows Farm, this was the first time I had served it totally raw, as a salad, which is the way I think virtually everyone does serve it. I’ve decided it will probably be the last time:  Although it may be tricky to get this delicious green to the perfect wilt, without seeing it virtually disappear in the pan, I think it’s worth the effort, for the contribution it makes both to taming the roughage and improving the flavor
• the wine with the fish was an Italian (Umbria) white, Orvieto
• the music was several of Haydn’s divertimenti

• four small loin lamb chops from 3-Corner Field Farm, cooked on a very hot grill pan for about 4 minutes on each side, finished with lemon, fresh fennel seed from Lani’s Farm, and olive oil
• cavolo nero, or black kale, from Bodhitree Farm, briefly wilted with olive oil and two halved Rocambole garlic cloves from Keith’s Farm, which had first been heated in the oil
• several heirloom tomatoes (two orange and two small red-ish) from Lani’s Farm and Berried Treasures Farm, halved, sprinkled with salt and pepper, then briefly added to the grill pan as the lamb chops were removed, sprinkled with fresh oregano from Stokes Farm, and drizzled with olive oil and a little balsamic vinegar
• the wine was a California red which uses Spanish grape varieties, Sin Fronteras El Mechon California 2013
• the music was portions of the album, Debussy: Preludes For Piano, Books 1 & 2 played by Paul Jacobs

• two monkfish tails from Pura Vida Seafood, cut into medallions roughly the size of sea scallops, slit horizontally most of the way through, sprinkled with salt and pepper, each ‘scallop’ stuffed with a single leaf out of a package of Gotham Greens Rooftop basil from Whole Foods, very briefly sautéed in oil along with a smashed clove of garlic from John D. Madura Farm, removed and arranged on two plates on top of beds of washed and dried arugula from John D Madura Farm, while a couple tablespoons of lemon juice were added to the pan, off heat, stirred for ten seconds, then drizzled over the medallions, the greens augmented by a little bit of olive oil
• a small handful of yellow Grenada peppers from Eckerton Hill Farm, halved or quartered, sautéed over high heat until slightly caramelized, tossed with some really tiny red cherry tomatoes from Berried Treasures, pierced with a fork to avoid really tiny explosions at the table, finished with chopped fresh oregano from Stokes Farm and a light splash of balsamic vinegar
• the wine was a California white, Hanging Vine Chardonnay Parcel 4 Lodi 2014
• the music was Anna Thorvaldsdottir’s ‘Rhízōma’ 

I went down the street to Eataly this afternoon to fetch a good fresh pasta.  We had planned to entertain some friends earlier in the evening, so I knew in advance that there wouldn’t be much time to put together even a modestly ambitious meal. I had a number of ingredients at home which could grace an interesting form of noodle, but not really anything that would stand on its own.

I was delighted to find a very special filled pasta inside the glass display case when I arrived, the Emilia-Romagna tortelli piacentini, an intricately-folded, slightly-braided egg pasta filled with ricotta, mascarpone, chard, grana padano, salt, and pepper.  I asked Luca Donofrio, Eataly’s pastaio, who was working there inside the assembly area, how it should be sauced, and he said it would go well with the region’s classic ragú.  When I demurred at his suggestion (not having the time to cook the sauce, but also, as usual, reluctant to disguise the taste of a good filled pasta), he added that it would also welcome a simple sauce of butter, with perhaps, as I suggested in reply, the addition of some special herb.  That’s how I approached this very special artisanal creation when I got home, adding, in the end, some shaved parmesan.

As the pasta course was to be pretty small in size, I included an antipasto, a classic insalata caprese, and an improvised light green salad on the side.

• one ripe heirloom tomato from Lani’s Farm, sliced and allowed to sit for almost an hour with some Maldon sea salt sprinkled on top, then layered with some very fresh ‘mozzarella classica’ from Eatlay, a number of leaves of Gotham Greens Brooklyn rooftop basil from Whole Foods, the tomato juices returned to the slices, along with an excellent olive oil, then served with slices of Seven Grain Bread from Eataly
• twelve ounces of fresh tortelli piacentini from Eataly, sauced with a toss of melted unsalted butter, salt, and pepper, served with freshly-shaved parmesan cheese on top, and scattered with the magic fresh fennel seeds I still had in reserve
• a salad of arugula from John D Madura Farm, tossed with slices of a small red onion from John D. Madura Farm, good olive oil, a touch of white balsamic vinegar, salt, pepper, and more fresh fennel seeds
• the wine was an Italian (Sardinia) white, La Cala Vermentino di Sardegna 2013
• the music was streamed on Q2, and was a part of the station’s 24-hour ‘Her Music’ marathon of  women composers

I suppose it should not really be surprising, but every time I prepare this dish, using pretty much the same recipe, it both looks and tastes differently than it ever did before.  This one may have been the best yet.

Oh yes, I have to say again how sorry I am that some people haven’t learned to appreciate the (possibly acquired) full-flavored taste of this extraordinary fish.

• one 15-ounce bluefish fillet from Blue Moon Fish, baked (more or less along the lines of this recipe) in a glazed ceramic pan at 450º for about 20-25 minutes above and below a variety of sliced heirloom tomatoes from Lani’s Farm, two sliced young leeks (rather than the scallions specified in the recipe) from Ryder Farm, more than a little olive oil, some torn Gotham Greens Brooklyn rooftop basil from Whole Foods, removed from the oven and placed on two plates, finished with chopped parsley from Paffenroth Farms, the pan juices drizzled on top of the now-divided fillet
• cavolo nero, or black kale, from Bodhitree Farm, briefly wilted with olive oil and two halved Rocambole garlic cloves from Keith’s Farm, which had first been heated in the oil
• the wine was an Italian (Marche) white, Saladini Pilastri Falerio 2014, from Phillippe Wines
• the music was Haydn’s ‘8 Nocturnes‘

Note to self: All elements combined to make this a terrific meal, and it looked dazzling as well.

 

I’m not really trying to serve fish almost every night, but I find that, for me at this time, having at least a small portion of either seafood or meat makes it easier to build a good vegetable accompaniment (it’s an ‘accompaniment’, so it has to accompany something), and meat just doesn’t interest me as much as fish does right now.  I also still think that it’s very often more interesting to serve wine with an entrée which includes something other than just vegetables, although that too may change for me.

On my way uptown to a recital early this evening I thought about the fact that I hadn’t really planned what I was going to prepare for dinner, and the fact that that seemed to have been a conscious decision.  Then I quickly made the connection between the subway route we would be taking home and the fact that the Whole Foods on the corner of 24th and 7th always has wild northwestern salmon, and it’s often on sale.  Barry had mentioned that we had a larger supply of good pinot noir on hand than usual, and I thought of the dill flowers in the refrigerator door, and the bag of Corno di Toro sweet peppers in the crisper which I was anxious to try.  Salmon sounded absolutely right.

• one 12-and-a-half-ounce fillet of wild Coho salmon from Whole foods, cut into two servings, placed in an oval, enameled cast iron pan in which about two tablespoons of unsalted butter had been allowed to heat until the foam began to recede, but not introduced before a small handful of slightly-crushed ramp fruit from Berried Treasures had been warmed in it, the pan with the salmon then placed in a 450º oven for about 7 minutes, the fillets flipped a little more than half way through, removed when barely cooked through, arranged on plates, sprinkled with Maldon salt, freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, and – most importantly – some fresh dill flowers from Crock & Jar/Rise & Root, in the Union Square Greenmarket, where almost everything else mentioned in these ‘pages’ has been found
• delicious Corno di Toro long sweet frying peppers (red and yellow) from Campo Rosso Farm, stemmed, split, seeded, the piths remove, sliced lengthwise once or twice, fried in olive oil pressed under a weighted pan, first skin side down until blistered, then turned and fried, again under a weighted pan, for another 30 seconds or so, a small handful of washed and dried whole basil leaves and a splash of (medium quality) balsamic vinegar added to the pan, stirring for a few seconds until the herb is wilted and the vinegar has sort of exploded in the heated oil, which was then removed from the heat and the vegetable served
• a salad of husk cherries from Oak Grove Plantation, arugula from Phillips Farm, and a generous amount of fresh fennel seed – and pollen – from Lani’s Farm, dressed with good olive oil, lemon juice, Maldon salt, and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper [the only quibble I have with the entire meal is that, while the husk cherries look great whole, they’re very difficult to pick up with a fork;  next time I’ll try to remember to slice them in two before adding them to the greens]
• the wine was an Oregon red, Elk Cove Vineyards ‘La Sirene’ Willamette Valley Pinot Noir 2011, the gift of a friend
• the music was Haydn, Symphonies No, 20 and 21, performed by the Austro-Hungarian Haydn Orchestra under Adám Fischer

I actually was a little disappointed that the lima beans didn’t retain the hues they showed when they first came out of their pods (see below), but the earth and woodsy tones of their river stone disguises pretty much made up for it.

I was new to cooking this ancient South American vegetable as a fresh ingredient, having limited myself until now almost exclusively to working with its frozen form, and that was decades ago.  When I picked them up at the Union Square Greenmarket I thought preparation would be a cinch, but once home I found almost nothing about limas (or butter beans, an alternative name for the legumes) in any of my cookbooks and, as I was interested in something minimal, almost nothing useful on line.  To illustrate my dilemma, one site outlined at least three major steps for extracting the bean, and a cooking process that would have stretched on far beyond an hour’s time.  It was only when I turned to my half-century-old copy of  Craig Claiborne‘s classic opus, ‘The New York Times Cookbook’ [$25 new here; $10 to $15 here, at Strand], that I was finally reassured about both the ease and the simplicity with which these delicious beans could be prepared.

Both peas and beans can vary in size, tenderness, and freshness, so it may not always be easy to prescribe cooking times or amounts to buy (especially when they are being purchased in the shell or pod), and there is also the question of individual tastes. Claiborne’s short entry reads, simply, “Place the [shelled] beans in a small amount of boiling water, cover and boil rapidly until tender, about twenty to thirty minutes.” [Note: I checked the beans while they were boiling, and ended draining them after something closer to fifteen minutes]  He advised allowing two pounds – or more – for four servings.  I bought a pound of unshelled beans, and that would have been more than enough for the two of us, except that they were so good; even as little as half of a pound might have been enough if there were another vegetable on the plate.

I decided to do little to interfere with their natural flavor, but, in addition to some olive oil, I did go for the addition of some chopped mint (Claiborne had suggested butter and thyme), and, naturally, a squeeze of lemon, perhaps thinking the three might convert the very American lima bean into an Italian dish.

One more thing.  Squid remains one of the least expensive of any seafood available today;  the cost of two generous servings was far less than the cost of this excellent vegetable (a price I was totally happy to pay, even before their goodness had been fully confirmed and enjoyed).

• tiny squid bodies and tentacles from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, marinated for about half an hour (half of that time in the refrigerator) in a mixture of lemon zest and lemon juice, thinly-sliced garlic from Keith’s Farm, olive oil, pungent dried Italian oregano from Buon Italia, salt, and pepper, then removed from the marinade and pan-grilled briefly over high heat, arranged on plates, sprinkled with fresh lemon juice and some chopped parsley from Stokes Farm  [a recipe for the squid, with more specific instructions appears here]
• fresh organic lima beans from Norwich Meadows Farm (Im tasted one at the stand, and was immediately sold on them, although I had not cooked these particular legumes in many years, parboiled until tender (about 15 minutes here), drained, dried in the same glass pan, then mixed with olive oil, salt, pepper, and peppermint from Phillips Farm
• the wine was an Italian (Campania) white, Falanghina Feudi di San Gregorio 2014
• the music was excerpts from the album, ‘Steven M. Miller: Between Noise And Silence‘

 

The pictures below show the beans as they appeared at the Greenmarket, and then as they looked after podding and before cooking.

It was a pretty colorful meal, and a tasty one, but, while enjoying the herbs – and the savory buds – I could not help thinking of all that I will miss once this summer is past.

 

• two thick loin lamb chops from 3-Corner Field Farm (two servings), thoroughly dried, cooked on a very hot enameled cast iron grill pan for about 4 minutes on each side, seasoned only after having been seared, then removed from the pan and each topped with about a dozen slightly-crushed ramp fruit from Berried Treasures, the ‘buds’ having been heated earlier in a bit of olive oil, the chops finished with a squeeze of lemon and a drizzle of olive oil

• yellow flat pole beans from Norwich Meadows Farm, blanched, drained and dried, then reheated in oil, finished with salt, pepper, and fresh fennel seed from Lani’s Farm

• orange and green (two kinds) heirloom tomatoes from Berried Treasures, sliced thinly and arranged in low bowls with a bit of good olive oil, white balsamic vinegar, salt, pepper, and torn local (Brooklyn) basil leaves, Gotham Greens Rooftop packaged basil, from Whole Foods

• the wine was a luscious super California red, ROX Scott Peterson All Blacks Sonoma County 2013, which includes five different black grapes from Sonoma; when I tasted it I thought that it almost certainly included some Zinfandel, but not in the usual heavy, scary California form which is incompatible with almost any food, and I just learned on line, from Scott Peterson, the maker, that it’s close to these percentages: 34 % Sonoma Coast Syrah; 
44% Old Vine Zinfandel Russian River/Dry Creek Sonoma County;
 11% Petite Sirah Dry Creek Sonoma County; 
6% Grenache
; 5% Mourvedre

• the music was from the 2015 Nordic Affect album, ‘Clockworking‘

Prior to the meat course, there was a primi, a revisit of a pasta from three days earlier boasting the addition of some fresh herbs (spearmint from Lani’s Farm and summer savory and lovage, both from Keith’s Farm) and a drizzle of good olive oil.

• the wine with that pasta was a French white, Hecht & Bannier Blanc Languedoc 2014

There was also a cheese course, which included two cheeses from Consider Bardwell, ‘Manchester’ and ‘Slybro’, both made from goat milk, served with some very, very thin slices of ‘Integrale’ bread from Eataly, toasted in our McGraw Electric Toastmaster (introduced in 1936, the year our apartment building was completed).

It was a cauliflower, frittata, and we both love anything cauliflower, including this dish.  Apparently not everyone shares our enthusiasm, because, in his description of this primi, which I used as my rough guide, Kyle Phillips tells us that the great Italian cookbook author Pellegrino Artusi definitely did not think much of the vegetable, writing in an introduction to his nineteenth-century recipe, “You will need to know the quantities if you are to make a good frittata with a vegetable as insipid as this.”

• one 21-ounce head of golden cauliflower from Norwich Meadows Farm, separated into flowerettes, sautéed in butter and olive oil in a 12-inch cast iron pan until beginning to carbonize, seasoned with salt and pepper, some of the torn green pointed leaves which enclose the head added near the end, then, once the vegetable had begun to color, eight small-ish eggs from Millport Dairy beaten with a bit of grated Parmesan cheese from Eataly, seasoned with salt, pepper, and some very good cayenne from Spices and Tease in Chelsea Market poured into the pan, followed by the addition of thin slices of one ripe red heirloom tomato from Norwich Meadows Farm placed on top, the mix allowed to cook, unflipped, on top of the range until done
• the wine was an Australian sparkling rosé, Taltarni Taché 2011, a blend of Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, and Pinot Meunier, from southeastern Australia
• the music was the second half of Vivaldi’s ‘Atenaide’, in a performance by Modo Antiquo, conducted by Federico Maria Sardelli