Even though there would be only 2 of us for dinner on Sunday, I had expected to cook something festive, something roast-ish (but necessarily small),  but a glance at the mid-April New York weather forecast (high in the mid-80’s, and humid), sent me back to my sketch pad.

My choices at the market when I was there 2 days before didn’t include anything lamb or goat, or even pork of an appropriate size; any of them would have been my preferences. I then turned to the farm stall I knew as an purveyor of excellent beef (and other meats). there, with Mike’s counsel, I picked out a very fine thick ribeye.

Then, on Sunday evening, everything was proceeding well (I was nearly halfway thorough roasting the fingerlings) when I finally had a good look at the cut that was going to be the centerpiece of our meal.

It was a full 2 inches thick.

I had no experience with a steak of that size.

Barry starts worrying when i begin Googling 30 minutes before we were supposed to sit down to eat, and I totally understand, especially when it’s already a bit late.

I didn’t find much this time, except many reminders that some folks take their beef very, very seriously (it’s something like coffee fanaticism), and that most of those folks seem to have outdoor grills, so I went with my instincts, guided by earlier steak experiences.

It was absolutely delicious, and I think the image at the top helps to describe that.

Barry was very, very happy.

• it all went together so fast that I’m not certain I’m remembering all the details, but the steak preparation involved bringing to room temperature one 100%-grass-fed 2-inch-thick Black Angus rib-eye steak (22 ounces), purchased from the very sunny Mike at Sun Fed Beef (Maple Avenue Farms) in the Union Square Greenmarket, drying it, rubbing both sides with olive oil, seasoning it well with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, searing each side for about 3 or 4 minutes over high heat inside a vintage seasoned cast iron pan, placing it in a 500º oven for about 6 or 7 minutes, turning once, then removing it when a thermometer had read about 130º (it would continue to cook outside of the oven), letting it rest for about 7 minutes, loosely covered with aluminum foil, removing the bone, dividing it into 2 equal shares, arranging the beef on the plates, where they were drizzled with a juice of a local sweet lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, a bit of olive oil, and draped with half a dozen ramps, an impulse purchase, from Eataly (not yet seen in Union Square this spring, they had to have come from somewhere south of New Jersey) which had earlier been rolled in a little seasoned olive oil and pan-grilled, bulbs first, the leaves following
• red French fingerlings from Race Farm, halved lengthwise, tossed with a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, sage leaves from from S. & S.O. Produce Farm, 2 small bay leaves broken into pieces, from from Westside Market, and a small amount of crushed dark home-dried habanada pepper, arranged cut side down on a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at about 375º for 15 0r 20 minutes, sprinkled with micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• a small bunch of frizzy purple mustard greens from Lani’s Farm, wilted inside a large enameled cast iron pot in a little olive oil in which 2 cloves of  garlic from John D. Madura Farm, halved, had been allowed to sweat, seasoned with sea salt, Tellicherry pepper, and a very small amount of crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, finished on the plates with a drizzle of juice from the same sweet local lemon used on the beef, and a bit of olive oil
• the wine was a California (Amador) red, Ana Diogo-Draper Amador Tempranillo 2015, from Naked Wines
• the music was Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos, performed magnificently by Tafelmusik

Because it was on what some folks call ‘Holy Saturday’ (as a child, a choir boy, and an altar boy, I was one of them), and it was the second day of the ‘Paschal fast’, the meal we enjoyed last night would have been much in line with Catholic tradition.

But that’s not why we had it.

Also, I didn’t actually cook the meal; I just assembled it.

It was an evening that would straddle Friday’s fish and a Sunday steak. I knew pasta would make sense, and then I realized that I had time to check out what Luca Donofrio had in his fresh pasta shop inside Eataly that day. There I spotted his ravioli filled with ricotta, lemon zest, nutmeg, marjoram, and mascarpone, and it both looked and sounded terrific; also, it obviously wouldn’t demand a complex sauce.

Once I had brought some home I decided that meant butter, a smidgen of green scallion stem, a bit of aromatic heatless pepper, salt, and black pepper. I wasn’t sure how I would finish the dish until almost the moment it had been placed in the bowls, when I decided I could not not use the red amaranth I had, if only because nothing else would look so spectacular on top of the pasta.

• several tablespoons of Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter heated slowly inside a large high-sided tin-lined heavy copper pan with a very small amount of sliced green parts of scallions from Norwich Meadows Farm, a crushed piece of orange-gold habanada pepper, and a bit of sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, then 12 ounces of a fresh ricotta-lemon zest-nutmeg-marjoram-mascarpone-filled ravioli from Eataly, which had just been boiled inside a large pot of well-salted water for 2 minutes and drained, slipped into the copper pan and mixed well with the sauce, everything stirred together over a low flame, arranged inside 2 shallow bowls, some micro red amaranth from Windfall Farms arranged on top

Just before the pasta there had been an antipasto, as there was a little bresaola left from the meal we shared with friends on Wednesday.

• a couple ounces of an Uruguayan bresaola from Eataly, arranged on plates with sprigs of slightly-flowering arugula from Bodhitree Farm, both meat and green drizzled with a good Puglian olive oil (Alce Nero biologico DOP ‘Terra di Bari Bitonto) from Eataly and some of the juice of a large local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, the greens seasoned with Maldon salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper
• slices of an Eric Kayser ‘baguette monge’

• the wine throughout the meal was a California (Clarksburg) white, Karen Birmingham 2015 Pinot Grigio
• the music throughout the meal was seriously-sad holiday music, streaming on Yle Klassinien

We usually sleep very late on Sunday, and since we almost invariably have some form of egg dish which is not quickly assembled, it’s often well into the afternoon by the time we sit down.

Today it was especially late (both the rising and the preparing, and thus the eating as well), once again ensuring that there would be only 2 meals for us on the day of rest. As I finished this particularly tasty breakfast just before 3, I couldn’t help telling the one assembled guest: “totally worth missing lunch”. Fortunately Barry had grabbed a digestive biscuit and a strong iced coffee even before I began cooking.

There was a centerpiece, because of the holiday (one which had meant a great deal to me growing up, and now only means spring), a 19th-century blown glass life-size egg, nestled inside an ancient (ca. 1800) miniature splint basket, both found in Rhode Island almost half a century ago.

• the ingredients for this particular breakfast included 6 free-range eggs and 4 thick slices of bacon from Millport Dairy Farm, the eggs dusted with a little dried orange-gold habanada pepper, Maldon salt, and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, served on the 2 plates with a sprinkling of micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge; there were also 4 halved Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods, heated in a little olive oil with a bit of sliced scallion stems from Norwich Meadows Farm, salt, and freshly-ground pepper, sprinkled with a few chopped leaves of a basil plant from Whole Foods; and slices of a sturdy ‘Pane Mediterraneo’ from Eataly (whole wheat, rye flour; pumpkin, sesame, poppy, sunflower, flax seeds; millet and farro), which were barely heated in the old toaster
• the Sunday (‘Easter Sunday’ this time) music was Carl Heinrich Graun’s early 18th-century (exact date unknown) ‘Easter Oratorio’, Michael Alexander Willens conducting the Kölner Akademie

 

 

It’s an excellent fish. Unaccountably, it’s less expensive than many of its culinary cousins (hake, cod, halibut, sea bass, tilefish, pollock, ocean perch, or porgy, among others) but demand and celebrity dictate these things in the food world, and the restaurant world, pretty much the same as they do everywhere else.

It’s also a good-looking fish, even when the original parts aren’t all there.

• two 9-ounce whiting fillets (a size larger than what I usually bring home, but that was what was available), from Pura Vida Seafood, rinsed, dried, seasoned with salt and freshly-ground pepper, placed inside a heavy tin-lined oval copper pan and prepared something like this Melissa Clark recipe, using over 4 tablespoons of a mix of chopped herbs (this time a combination of finely-chopped red sorrel from two Guys from Woodbridge, rosemary from Eataly, peppermint and oregano from Lani’s Farm, parsley from Norwich Meadows farm, and basil leaves off of a living plant from Whole Foods), briefly employing a little aluminum foil for a cover, and using both a small brush and a wooden spoon to repeatedly spread/ladle the scallion-herb butter (Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter) over the fillets, although last night the fish was finished on the plates with a garnish of micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge (because it was there in the refrigerator, and I love fennel anything).

I was originally going to serve only a green vegetable accompaniment, but I knew the fish would enjoy being around some boiled potatoes as well.

• two medium Carola potatoes from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, boiled, drained, dried in the pan, cut into smaller pieces, rolled in the clear pyrex pan, tossed with a tablespoon of butter, seasoned with Maldon salt and freshly-ground black pepper, and sprinkled with a little zest from a local sweet lemon from David Tifford of Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, and lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• one bunch of collard greens and half that amount of mizuna (remaining from what had not been used in an earlier meal) from Norwich Meadows Farm, torn into small sections (all of the mizuna and most of the collard stems were tender enough to include in the cooking), 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, wilted inside a heavy oval enameled cast iron pot in which 2 halved garlic cloves from John D. Madura Farm had first been allowed to sweat in a bit of olive oil with a little crushed dried Sardinian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, the greens finished with a little salt, freshly-ground pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a California (Lodi) white, David Akiyoshi Reserve Chardonnay 2015, from Naked Wines
• the music (well, it was ‘Good Friday’) was Mahler’s Symphony No. 6 (1903-1904-1906), Rafael Kubelik conducting the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra [“Es gibt doch nur eine VI. trotz der Pastorale.” – Alban Berg]

There were 4 of these plates.

We had invited 2 guests; neither had had dinner with us before, and one of them had not even been to the apartment.

I had chosen a menu which would normally allow me plenty of time to be with friends before dinner, but somehow I never got around to preparing all that I could ahead of time. In fact, I hadn’t even begun.

In the past I would have panicked before they arrived, or after, or more likely, both before and after. This time however I was completely relaxed, and because I didn’t want to miss any of the conversation, I even welcomed everyone into the breakfast room area next to the kitchen while I was working on the meal.

I was shocked that none of this fazed me, and that I didn’t miss a step.

Practice works.

I said at the beginning that there were 4 plates, but there were also 4 courses, plus our standing/standup starter of Italian grissini and sparkling wine.

• Mario Fongo ‘Il Panate’, Grissini con farina di riso nero ‘Artemide’, from Eataly
• the wine was a California (North Coast) sparkling white, Eponina Brut North Coast NV

• seven ounces of a delicious Uruguayan bresaola from Eataly, arranged on 4 plates with sprigs of slightly-flowering arugula from Bodhitree Farm, both drizzled with a good Campania olive oil (Lamparelli O.R.O.) and some of the juice of a large local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, the greens seasoned with Maldon salt and freshly-ground pepper
• slices of a ‘baguette céréales’ (golden and brown flax seeds, sesame seeds, poppy seeds, millet seeds) from Eric Kayser [not pictured]
• the wine was a New York (Long Island) rosé, Wölffer Estate Rosé Long Island 2016, from Chelsea Wine Vault

The main course was more successful than I could have hoped, and it also looked pretty good.

• over one an a half pounds of sea scallops from Blue Moon Fish Company, rinsed, dried, slit horizontally with a very sharp knife almost all of the way through, stuffed with a mixture of a couple dozen small leaves from a basil plant purchased from Whole Foods, one medium-size clove of garlic from John D, Madura Farm, sea salt, and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, all chopped together very finely, the mix removed to a small bowl where just enough olive oil was added to form a paste, the stuffed scallops then rolled around on a plate with a little more olive oil, drained, then pan cooked on a 2-burner cast iron grill pan for about 2 minutes on each side, removed to 4 plates, garnished with micro red amaranth from Windfall Farms, and drizzled with more juice from the same large local lemon used in the previous course
• twelve Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods, halved, gently heated inside a heavy tin-lined copper pan with the stems of some wild garlic from Lanis Farm, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, arranged on the plates and garnished with micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• purple frizzy mustard greens from Bodhitree Farm, wilted inside a large enameled cast iron pot in a little olive oil in which 2 cloves of  garlic from John D. Madura Farm, halved, had been allowed to sweat, seasoned with salt, pepper, and a very small amount of crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, the greens finished on the plates with a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was an Oregon (Willamette Valley) white, L’Umami Pinot Gris Willamette Valley 2015, from Chelsea Wine Vault

• small samples of 5 different cheeses, all from Consider Bardwell Farm [l to R: ‘Manchester’ goat cheese; ‘Slybro’ goat cheese; ‘Goat Blue’ cheese; ‘Rupert’ cow cheese; and ‘Barden Blue’ cow cheese]
• halves of 2 Honey Crisp apples from Locust Grove Orchards
• toasted slices from the same Eric Kayser ‘baguette céréales’ which had accompanied the bresaola
• the wine was more of the Oregon Willamette Valley Pinot Gris

• scoops of a hand-packed vanilla gelato, made in-house, from Eataly, sprinkled with chopped candied ginger from Whole Foods Market

I usually keep a package of a frozen filled pasta on hand for those nights when I had not expected to be making any dinner at all, but then plans changed.

This was not one of those times. Instead, preparing the ravioli was a deliberate choice by which I managed to occupy the space between 2 more elaborate meals with friends, one as guests in another home, and one in our own.

Almost a night off.

• almost 2 tablespoons of olive oil heated slowly inside a large high-sided tin-lined heavy copper pan with a crushed piece of orange-gold habanada pepper, and a handful of wild garlic bulbs from Lani’s Farm, nothing allowed to fully cook, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, a handful of pine nuts added after they had been slowly heated and browned inside a small well-seasoned cast iron pan (I became distracted and briefly lost track, so they went farther than I had intended, but in fact were delicious accompanied by some other strong flavors), a 10-ounce package of frozen Rana portobello-mushroom-and-ricotta-filled ravioli from Eataly, which had been boiled inside a large pot of well-salted water for 2 minutes, then drained, slipped into the copper pan and mixed well with the garlic-habanada sauce, everything stirred together over a low flame with some of the reserved pasta water in order to emulsify the liquid, the pasta then arranged inside 2 shallow bowls, olive oil drizzled on top, and around the edges, a little Parmigiano & Reggiano Bonat 5 anni from Buon Italia grated over the center, some micro red mustard from Windfall Farms artfully arranged [sorry, but I do try] around the border of the pasta
• the wine was a California (Sonoma) red, ROX Scott Peterson Pinot Noir Sonoma Coast, from Naked Wines
• the music was Haydn, his Symphonies Nos. 12, 60, and 70 (written between 1763 and 1774), Giovanni Antonini conducting Il Giardino Armonico

It was again Sunday breakfast with eggs, this time without the bacon, but with tomatoes (which usually make an appearance at this time) – and leeks, which were standing in for one or more of the smaller alliums which are usually a part of our weekend treat.

Because of other commitments, right now I’m in the midst of almost a week of evenings when I am unable to cook dinner. I hadn’t foreseen this when I was buying vegetables in the Greenmarket, which helps explain the inclusion of the leeks here.

• three medium leeks from Norwich Meadows Farm, cooked with 3 or 4 tablespoons of butter inside a tin-lined heavy copper sauté pan until they were tender, approximately a third of a cup of chopped herbs added (thyme and rosemary from Eataly, peppermint from Lani’s Farm, flat-leaf parsley from Whole Foods, oregano from Lani’s Farm, and lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge), transferred to a buttered glazed ceramic oven dish, the mixture spread evenly on the bottom, 6 eggs from Millport Dairy Farm cracked on top, 6 large Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods, each cut in 3 slices, scattered about, and dollops of Ronnybrook Farms crème fraîche, stirred with a little whole milk (double cream would have been more convenient, but I had none), dropped on the surfaces around the eggs and the tomatoes, the dish seasoned with good sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, set on a rack in the middle of an oven preheated to 400º, then served on 2 plates atop thick slices of a toasted ‘polenta boule’ from She Wolf Bakery [I sprinkled some micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge on the plated eggs after I had taken the picture at the top]
• the music was Heinrich Schutz’s 1619, ‘Musikalische Exequien’, Sigiswald Kuijken conducting La Petite Bande 

It was an embarrassment of riches: I think there were 4 varieties of flat fish at the stand, and 3 other kinds of white fish. I love them all, but on Friday I chose the hake, because it was probably the least recent visitor to our kitchen.

That night I re-visited a familiar recipe, ‘nasello dorato‘.

And some vegetables.

• one thick 13-ounce hake fillet from Pura Vida Seafood Company, halved, dredged in well-seasoned flour (in this case, North Country Farms Stone Ground Whole Wheat Flour) and dipped in one beaten egg from Millport Dairy Farm, sautéed in 2 tablespoons of Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter with a couple dozen tiny (which were all that remained from my  stems) sage leaves from Eataly and a pinch or so of crushed golden orange dried habanada pepper over a brisk flame for a little over 6 minutes, turned over after 3, then sprinkled with some juice of a sweet local lemon from Dave Tifford’s Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, transferred onto the 2 plates, the pan juices poured on top, garnished with micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge, and served with lemon wedges on the side
• half a dozen small Yukon Gold potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, boiled in well-salted water, drained and dried in the still-warm glass pot, rolled in a little butter, seasoned with salt and freshly-ground Tellicherrry pepper, and sprinkled with chopped lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• mizuna from Norwich Meadows Farm, wilted in a little olive oil in which one bruised and halved garlic clove from John D. Madura Farm had first been allowed to sweat and begin to color, the greens seasoned with sea salt, freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, a very small amount of crushed dried crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, arranged on the plates and a little more olive oil drizzled on top
• the wine was an Australia (grapes from 10 regions within South Australia) white, Yalumba Y Series Sauvignon Blanc South Australia 2016, from Chelsea Wine Vault
• the music was the excellent album, ‘Joseph Byrd: NYC 1960–1963‘

It’s just pasta, supposedly, and the ingredients are virtually identical to so many others but, through the mystery of shape, terroir, process, and tradition, croxetti never tastes like any other.

We’ve enjoyed it at home several times, but not in the form we enjoyed last night. I didn’t know what exactly to expect, but I wasn’t disappointed.

• four ounces of Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter, melted over medium heat inside, ideally, a medium non-reactive pan, gently swirling until the butter had begun to turn golden brown, or about 5 minutes, one whole section, crushed, of a golden orange dried habanada pepper then added, followed by a fourth of a cup or more of pine nuts (pinoli) which had earlier been scattered on a small metal baking sheet and toasted inside a 325º oven for about 15 minutes, about half a teaspoon of sea salt, a bit of freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, and half of a 2 tablespoon mixture of fresh oregano from Lani’s Farm and parsley from Whole Foods, both chopped, the sauce tossed with 8 ounces of a package of Genovese Alta Valle Scrivia Croxetti from Eataly, the mix stirred over a low to medium flame with some reserved pasta water to emulsify it, then arranged inside 2 shallow bowls, a bit of olive oil drizzled around the edges, and topped with a small amount of Parmigiano-Reggiano Vache Rosse from Eataly before it was sprinkled with the remaining chopped herbs
• the wine was a California (Sonoma) white, Jacqueline Bahue Carte Blanche Sauvignon Blanc Sonoma Valley 2016, from Naked Wines
• the music was chamber music by Vagn Holmboe (1909-1996), performed by Ensemble MidtVest

I’m probably never going to understand why squid are not way up at the top of the scale when it comes to popularity, for their taste alone. When cooked with some sensitivity, they are one of the most delicious seafood forms around, and they really need very little embellishment. They’re also completely sustainable, and I think they’re available all over the world, anywhere people might be settled near an ocean.

They’re also apparently very intelligent, but I’m not sure where that fits into this discussion, especially since the only foods we consume that weren’t once a part of a living thing are salt and water.

Squid are definitely among the least expensive delicacies in a fish market, which I suppose might only represent their abundance, and not the disdain of the consumer, but I still wonder about their modest popularity index.

This particular batch, together with the success I had in cooking them, may have been my best experience with this cephalopod, ever.

I suppose the image below, showing how I arranged a pound of squid on a plate after having dried them thoroughly, just before I placed them in 2 oven pans, might say something about how I feel about these creatures.

The spinach, which had somehow been overwintered in the middle of New Jersey, even without the ‘high cave’ protection which has ensured so many loyal Greenmarket habitués a supply of green vegetables since the end of the so-called ‘growing season’, was impossibly sweet.

• two large rectangular enameled cast iron pans heated on top of the stove until quite hot, their cooking surfaces then brushed with olive oil, and once the oil was also quite hot, one pound of rinsed and carefully dried squid from Blue Moon Seafood in the Union Square Greenmarket, mostly bodies but a few tentacles, divided between the two in being quickly arranged inside the pans, immediately sprinkled with some super-pungent dried Sicilian oregano from Buon Italia, part of one dried Sicilian pepperoncino, also from Buon Italia, and an entire section of a home-dried heatless, orange/gold Habanada pepper (purchased fresh from Norwich Meadows Farm last fall), some sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, 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 5 minutes, removed, the squid distributed onto 2 plates, ladled with a bit of their cooking juices, after they had been transferred to a sauce pitcher, scattered with a little micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge, and served with halves of another, tiny local lemon-lime served on the side of each plate
• a generous amount of very sweet overwintered (I was told not in a ‘high cave’) spinach from Lani’s Farm, washed in several changes of water, drained, very gently wilted (that is, not reduced too far) inside a large enameled cast iron pot in a little olive oil in which one 2 cloves of garlic from John D. Madura Farm, quartered, had first been allowed to sweat, then seasoned with salt, freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, a little of the dried Sicilian pepperoncino, drizzled with olive oil and a little sweet local lemon juice from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island
• the wine was an Italian (Campania) white, Cantina di Lisandro Alabranno Fiano 2015, from Chelsea Wine Vault
• the music was Louis-Nicolas Clérambault’s 1706 pastorale, ‘Le Triomphe D’iris’, performed by Hervé Niquet conducting Le Concert Spirituel