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

We love the innovative pastas, often with locally-sourced-ingredients, produced by Brooklyn’s Sfoglini Pasta Shop, and this beet fusilli was no exception, but, and it’s entirely to their credit, I’ve come to the conclusion that the ‘flavored’ products especially can best be appreciated with a minimum of additions. This also makes them ideal as a quickly-prepared and impactful primo.

Also, butter would probably be good. Yeah, butter.

• eight ounces of Sfoglini beet fusilli with a sauce composed of sliced segments of celery from Foragers and spring onions from Norwich Meadows Farm, a pinch of home-dried golden Habanada chili purchased fresh from Norwich Meadows Farm last year, a very small amount of dried peperoncino Calabresi secchi from Buon Italia, all the ingredients heated in a little olive oil inside a high-sided tin-lined copper pan until softened or they had become aromatic, the pasta then slipped into the pan, stirred with some reserved pasta water until the sauce had emulsified, divided into two shallow bowls, sprinkled with toasted home-made breadcrumbs, scattered with micro arugula from Windfall Farms, a bit more olive oil drizzled inside the bowls around the edges of the pasta
• the wine was a California (Clarksburg) white, Karen Birmingham 2015 Pinot Grigio
• the music was Mozart’s ‘Die Zauberflöte’, in a performance by La Petite Bande, conducted by Sigiswald Kuijken, with soloists Isolde Siebert, Suzie LeBlanc, Christoph Genz, Cornelius Hauptmann, Stephan Genz, Marie Kuijken, Philip Defrancq, and Stephan Schreckenberger

We had planned to go out to dinner with visiting relatives this night, but after the exertions of the Women’s March they had begged off, pleading fatigue. There was no time to pick up the ingredients for a substitute, but fortunately I had a package of very good pasta in the freezer, which I try to always have on hand for just such ’emergencies’.

• a 10-ounce package of frozen Rana portobello-mushroom-and-ricotta-filled ravioli from Eataly, boiled in a large pot of water for two minutes, drained and slipped into a high-sided tin-lined pan, in which a little sliced celery from Foragers, an equal amount of sliced baby leek from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, a large pinch of golden home-dried Habanada pepper, also from Norwich meadows (acquired fresh last season), had been heated for a few minutes, little more than sweating the vegetables, everything stirred together over a low flame with some of the reserved pasta water, seasoned with freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, sprinkled with a little scissored chives from Two Guys form Woodbridge and chopped parsley and mint form Eataly, the pasta and sauce placed in shallow bowls and scattered with toasted pine nuts from Whole Foods Market, and topped with micro arugula from Windfall Farms
• the wine was an Italian (Tuscany) red, Ciacci Piccolomini d’Aragona Toscana Rosso 2013
• the music was Vivaldi’s ‘Teuzzone’, performed by Jordi Savall’s Le Concert des Nations 

I don’t often cook a whole fish. I’m very comfortable with cooking these wonderful creatures, but a whole fish still seems a little scary. Actually, after the experience of this meal, I realize that it’s the process of filleting that may be the most frightening part.

There’s also the thing about how I ended up cooking it: While I admit that I probably should have broiled this excellent porgy, and my reason for not doing so may have been irrational, I just didn’t feel comfortable about leaving it that far out of sight during what I still regard as a very sensitive period in the cooking process.

In the end the fish was totally wonderful, even if the presentation, thanks to my inexperience, was something less than I had hoped for.

 

I’ve included this less-than-exciting picture of the red kale here mostly as testimonial to the remarkable husbandry our local farmers: We are now in January and I’m still able to bring home at least a limited variety of fresh green vegetables. This member of the noble and enormous family Brassicaceae was purchased January 13, and it may be at least as remarkable for having stayed in shape in our refrigerator for a full week after that.

• one cleaned whole 25-ounce porgy (sparidae, pogy, pagrus, mishcup, sea bream, sheepshead, scup, orata, Seebrassen, dorade, besugo, or havsruda, among other appellations) from Pure Vida Seafood, washed and dried, tail and fins removed, head left on, the cavity stuffed with thin slices of lemon and parsley sprigs, the body coated with olive oil, lemon juice, sea salt and freshly-ground pepper, pan grilled in a long cast iron pan over medium-high flame[s], turning once, fora bout 17 minutes, removed and filleted, each section arranged on a plate, sprinkled with chopped mint and parsley from Eataly and scissored chive from Two Guys from Woodbridge, drizzled with olive oil and a little more lemon juice
• red kale from Norwich Meadows Farm, sautéed in olive oil in which 2 bruised and halved garlic cloves from Tamarack Hollow Farm had first been allowed to sweat and barely begin to brown, the greens seasoned with salt, pepper, and a little more olive oil
• the wine was a Portuguese (Dão) white, Quinta dos Roques Encruzado, Dão 2014, from Astor Wines
• the music was Alfred Schnittke’s ‘Concerto Grosso for Cello No. 2, with Torleif Thedéen, cello, Lev Markiz conducting the Malmö Symphony Orchestra 

It was a very German meal, for no particular reason. Thinking about it retroactively however, I could say there was the relationship between the date (the eve of an installation of a proto-fascist regime in Washington) and the historical memory which recalls the food culture of the nation which was the last one to pass over that line.

It was also real comfort food, a meal would be very familiar to most Germans: nothing fancy. I think it gave us both a little comfort, if only for the evening.

• a section of Sülze [we ended up eating twice the amount shown, it was so good] from Schaller & Weber, served with a little sliced red onion from Norwich Meadows Farm; 4 Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods; and some micro arugula from Windfall Farms, drizzled with good olive oil
• slices of a ‘corn rye’ boule (‘unbromated wheat flour’, rye flour, caraway, rolled in cornmeal, and all grains local) from Hot Bread Kitchen, along with some wonderful, rich Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter (with12 grams of total fat per tablespoon [virtually all other brands of butter available in this country have only 11, and it does make a major difference])

The second course was built around leftovers, specifically a mix of leftover cooked vegetables which might normally have been tossed after they had served their first grand purpose in flavoring the meal for which they had first been assembled. I hadn’t tossed them, knowing they could flourish again.

• a combination of chicken and beef broth reconstituted from jars of Better Than Bullion, a very small amount of the juices which remained from the squid we had enjoyed on Wednesday, and the finely-chopped cooked vegetables I had retrieved from the braising liquid that had remained from Sunday’s goat shoulder, all heated together then served in low bowls, garnished with fresh chopped parsley from Eataly
• there was more of the bread, to ensure that all of the soup could be appreciated

• the wine throughout was a French (Alsatian) white, Domaine Joseph Cattin Pinot Blanc Alsace 2015, from Chelsea Wine Vault
• the music throughout was Alfred Schnittke’s ‘Concerto Grosso No. 2’, with Torleif Thedéen (Cello) and Oleh Krysa (Violin), Lev Markiz conducting the Malmö Symphony Orchestra

It was like they’d known each other all their lives; the cephalopods and the pak choy got along famously last night, after only a few minutes of acquaintance, er, ..prep.

Anything fresh and green is hugely appreciated at farmers’ markets in January, so this beautiful vegetable must have gone fast. It was almost mid-afternoon when I arrived at one of my favorite vegetable stalls in Union Square. Unable to be choosey, I ended up with a complete range of sizes; regardless, they all pretty much cook the same.

• a large enameled cast iron pan heated until quite hot, its cooking surface brushed with olive oil, and, when the oil was also quite hot, about 14 ounces of rinsed and dried squid from Blue Moon Fish in the Union Square Greenmarket, bodies and a few tentacles, arranged in it very quickly, immediately sprinkled with some super-pungent dried Sicilian oregano from Buon Italia and part of a crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino, also from Buon Italia, and a very small bit of home-dried heatless, orange Habanada pepper purchased fresh from Norwich Meadows Farm, followed by a drizzle of a few tablespoons of juice from a local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, and some olive oil, the pan placed inside a pre-heated 400º oven and roasted for 4 or 5 minutes, removed, the squid distributed onto 2 plates and ladled with their cooking juices after they had been transferred to a sauce pitcher, with halves of another, tiny local lemon-lime served on the side
• pak choy (also called bok choy) from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, sliced lengthwise, wilted in olive oil along with 2 garlic cloves from Lucky Dog Organic Farm which had already been browned very lightly in the oil, the greens seasoned with salt and pepper and drizzled with a little more olive oil
• the wine was an Italian (Sicily, Palermo) white, Corvo Insolia 2015 from Philippe Wine and Spirits, on West 23rd Street less than one block from our table
• the music was Mieczyslaw Weinberg ‘s Symphony No. 3, Thord Svedlund conducting the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra