I thought the pasta might end up being too easy, so I decided to add an anti.

• an uncured Salchichon, from a package of Colameco’s ‘Spanish Brand Deli Selection’, drizzled with a bit of a good Campania olive oil (Lamparelli O.R.O.), served with red dandelion greens dressed with the same oil, Maldon salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and a squeeze of an organic lemon from Whole Foods Market
• slices of a Grandaisy filone from the Grandaisy store in Tribeca

While the sauce with the spaghetti was pretty easy, the taste was pretty complex.

Thanks to some wonderful ingredients..

.., and a slow cooking process.

• the amounts of each ingredient can be adjusted without sacrificing the essence of this recipe, but I tossed approximately 4 cups of small and slightly larger whole Eckerton Hill Farm heirloom tomatoes in a mix of colors and sizes, together with almost 2 cups of shishito peppers from Alewife Farm; 5 or 6 unpeeled cloves fresh Keith’s Farm rocambole garlic; half a cup of a loosely packed mix of cut chives from S. & S.O. Farm, leaves from a Full Bloom Market Garden basil plant from Whole Foods, and marjoram buds from Norwich Meadows Farm; half a teaspoon of sea salt, a dash of black pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil, arranged everything on a large seasoned Pampered Chef oven pan, placing it on a 375º oven for almost 45 minutes, then mixed it inside a large antique high-sided copper pot with 10 ounces of ounces of cooked and drained Afeltra 100% grano italiano spaghettoni, produced in Gragnano, from Eataly Flatiron, stirring it over medium-high heat with some of the reserved pasta cooking water, until the liquid had emulsified, arranged inside low bowls, garnished with chopped very fresh rosemary from Lani’s Farm, finished by drizzling  olive oil around the edges
• the wine was an Italian (Sardinia) white, Sella & Mosca Vermentino di Sardegna La Cala 2016, from Garnet Wines
• the music was the Brooklyn Rider album, ‘Spontaneous Symbols’

I couldn’t get to the Union Square Greenmarket on Wednesday because there were a lot of workmen coming and going in the apartment, so I did what I have done under similar circumstances if I want to keep it a seafood day: I picked up some wild salmon from our local merchant down the block. As I’ve lamented before, unfortunately this treat can no longer be found in our local waters, so, yes, my carbon footprint was a little embarrassing.

Once in a while Whole Foods Market signage will advertise their fillets as “fresh” (that is, not frozen), which is how the coho I bought yesterday was described. It came with the skin, of course, but I removed it before cooking, in order to create the optimum ‘canvas’ for the spicy crust promised by the now-familiar recipe I had decided to use.

• one 14-ounce piece of a fresh wild coho salmon fillet from Whole Foods Market, brought to room temperature, rinsed, the skin removed by the cook, seasoned on both sides with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper and, on what had been the flesh side, pressed with a mixture of freshly-ground or grated coriander seeds, cloves, cumin, and nutmeg, sautéed in a little olive oil over a medium-high flame inside a heavy oval enameled cast iron pan over medium-high heat, the spice-coated side down, for 2 minutes or so, then turned over and cooked for another minute or so, arranged on the plates [this time without a squeeze of lemon or the addition of olive oil at the end, to avoid ruining the crust, but instead a few drops of olive oil were added to the juices remaining in the pan after the fillets had been removed, scraped them around the surface with a wooded spatula, then poured what had accumulated onto the plates at one end of the salmon
• a garnish of bronze micro fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge at the side of the fish

• red dandelion from Norwich Meadows Farm, dressed in a good Campania olive oil, Lamparelli O.R.O., Maldon salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and a bit of juice form a Whole Foods Market organic lemon

• a large sturdy seasoned steel skillet with enough olive oil to cover the bottom placed above a high flame, then, just before the oil was ready to smoke, 13 ounces of some very sweet ‘Yummy’ peppers (that’s actually the varietal name) from Central Valley Farm, cut into halves, their few seeds and membranes removed, added (in 2 batches this time, with the cooked peppers gently reheated while the salmon was cooking), skin side down and not crowding, the peppers sprinkled with salt, the heat reduced some, and a heavy weight (a slightly-smaller foil-covered cast iron skillet) placed on top of them for 30 seconds or so, then removed and the peppers pushed around with bamboo tongs to see they were blistered more or less evenly, after which they were turned skin side up, a small chopped section of a red serrano pepper thrown in, and the weighted pan added again for another 30 seconds, or up to a minute, until the peppers were just about cooked, but not too limp, finished with the addition of some whole basil leaves from a Massachusetts Full Bloom Market Garden live plant (a Whole Foods Market purchase) and less than a tablespoon of balsamic vinegar, both stirred with the peppers
• the wine was an Oregon (Umpqua Valley) red, Scott Kelley Oregon Tempranillo 2016, from Naked Wines
• the music was Vivaldi’s 1718 opera, ‘Armida al campo d’Egitto’, Rinaldo Alessandrini directing the Concerto Italiano

Shishito peppers, and their Spanish cousins, pimientos de padron, have probably developed as many different reputations as they have individual consumers. There is no one typical experience with the fieriness of these unpredictable capsicums, but for those who make it through unharmed, or at least undaunted, there may be no more exciting appetizer.

And so it’s been for me, since Barry and I first encountered pimientos de padron,  in northern Spain 11 years ago, in the Basque coastal town of Getaria, in Gipuzkoa. While I don’t seek out real heat in any kind of pepper, life would be less interesting if I thought, when presented with a plate of shishito or padron, there wasn’t a chance I’d at least come across a suggestion of the kind of fire for which the Scoville scale was invented.

We’ve both found that the peppers sold by Alewife Farm this year fit that bill perfectly.

• just the right amount (I didn’t count or weigh them, but I still have some remaining in the crisper) of shishito pepers from Alewife Farm, washed, drained, dried, then sautéed over medium high heat in a broad cast iron pan for a few minutes, stirring, seasoned with Maldon salt, arranged on the plates, more of the salt added, to taste (the crystals can be seen in the image above)
• slices of a really seductive Pain d’Avignon multi-grain loaf from Foragers

I was going to write that the pasta was just a good artisanal squid ink strozzapreti with some tomatoes and herbs, but when I started composing the narrative for the recipe I realized that description was a little too simple.

• a handful of thinly-sliced celery stalk from Neversink Organic Farm sautéed in a little olive oil inside an antique, high-sided tin-lined copper pot until softened, and one large fresh clove of spring garlic from Alex’s Tomato Farm (it had survived very well in the crisper of the refrigerator), and one Keith’s Farm clove of rocambole garlic, both squished, heated until they had begun to color, a bit of crushed dried pepperoncino Calabresi secchi from Buon Italia added, the mix stirred a little before half a pound of squid ink pasta (8 ounces of Severino squid ink strozzapreti from Whole Foods Market) that had just finished cooking, al dente, was added, the mix stirred again, now with some reserved pasta cooking water, over medium high flame until the liquids had emulsified, and a mix of small heirloom tomatoes from Eckerton Hill Farm, halved or sliced, several times, depending on their size, sprinkled with whole medium basil leaves from a Full Bloom Market Garden plant from Whole Foods Market, arranged inside 2 shallow bowls, finished with micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge, a bit of olive oil poured around the edges.
• the wine was an Italian (Abruzzo) white, Cantina Zaccagnini Pinot Grigio 2016, from Philippe Wines
• the music was the last of the 6 CD’s from the set, ‘Haydn: The “Sturm & Drang” Symphonies’

Everything about it.

• a large rectangular enameled cast iron pan heated on top of the stove until hot, its cooking surface brushed with olive oil, and once the oil was quite hot, one pound of rinsed and carefully dried large squid from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, which had been selected from the bucket right in front of me by the fisherman himself, Phil Karlin, who had come in with the catch from eastern Long Island early that day, quickly arranged inside, immediately sprinkled with a heaping teaspoon of super-pungent dried Sicilian oregano from Buon Italia, most of one crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino, also from Buon Italia, and a section of orange/golden home-dried habanada pepper, picked up fresh from Norwich Meadows Farm last summer, sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, followed by a douse of 3 tablespoons of juice from an organic Whole Foods lemon, and a splash of olive oil, the pan placed inside a pre-heated 400º oven and roasted for only 5 or so minutes, when their bodies had ballooned, removed, the squid distributed onto 2 plates and ladled with a bit of their cooking juices that had been collected in a glass sauce pitcher

• two sliced heirloom tomatoes, one red, one orange, from Tamarack Hollow Farm, slipped into a 13-inch seasoned cast iron skillet in which a little olive oil had first been heated, seasoned with salt and black pepper, sprinkled with some whole leaves of a Full Bloom Market Garden Connecticut Valley basil plant from Whole Foods, arranged on the plates and drizzled with just a bit of balsamic vinegar

• ten ounces or so of a mix of small green and purple okra from Lani’s Farm, sautéed over a high flame inside a very large seasoned cast iron pan in only a little olive oil [I’ve just learned that the cast iron causes even green pods to blacken, but I’ve never really noticed that, at least not as a problem], adding a good part of one crushed dried dark habanada pepper, half way through, seasoned with sea salt
• the wine was an Italian (Calabria) white, Scala, Ciro Bianco, 2017, from Flatiron Wines
• the music was Handel’s  1726 opera, ‘Alessandro’ [as in, ‘The Great’], in a production largely featuring Greek performers, George Petrou conducting the Armonia Atenea, with Max Emanuel Cencic, Karina Gauvin, Julia Lezhneva, and The City of Athens Choir

I was going to write that this wasn’t a German meal. The Sauerkraut came with turmeric, the Pellkartoffel were mixed with some celery and a bit of serrano pepper, and the Bratwurst was surprisingly spicy and almost sweet (even after all the time I’ve spent in Germany, my personal reference remains the uncooked Sheboygan white brat of my larger German-American family). Also, there was pickled okra!

Then I remembered that Germany is a big place, was once a way bigger place, and is surprisingly cosmopolitan today; also, its hoary cooking traditions are tweaked, both inside and outside its borders, sometimes.

• four links (one pound) of Møsefund‘s wonderful fully-cooked mangalitsa pork Bratwurst, purchased at the farm’s stand at the Saturday 23rd Street farmers market (they are normally set up there once a month), seared inside an enameled oval cast iron pan until blistered and heated through, served with a classic German mustard, Löwensenf Medium
• ten or 12 ounces of really delicious Pinto (or Pinto Gold) new potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, boiled with a generous amount of salt until barely cooked through, drained, halved, dried while inside the large, still-warm vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware glass pot in which they had cooked, a tablespoon or so of butter added, plus half a cup of thinly-sliced celery from Neversink Organic Farm and a bit of chopped fresh green serrano pepper from Central Valley Farm, seasoned with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, garnished with chopped parsley from Keith’s Farm
• some Hawthorne Valley Turmeric Sauerkraut from a jar I had selected, I would have to say, uncharacteristically, at their stall in the Greenmarket a while back, probably overcome by the entire stand’s aura of healthiness (also the color of the cabbage)
• pickled okra from Millport Dairy Farm, also in the Union Square Greenmarket
• the last slices of a She Wolf Bakery miche that had been waiting in the bread box for just this occasion
• the wine was an Austrian (Lower Austria) red, Zweigelt, Erdenlied 2016, from Astor Wines
• the music was Nicola Porpora’s 1732 operatic masterpiece, ‘Germanico in Germania’

Can’t put my finger on who it makes me think of, but the lower part of that image reminds me of the work of a certain contemporary visual artist, or maybe just flotsam and seaweed on a white beach.

My idea when I’m painting a plate is primarily to use flavor and texture. I admit that appearances are always a consideration, but things are almost never deliberately conceived, and I only have seconds to arrange them, and just as little time to snap a picture.

• breakfast on this Sunday included thick bacon and fresh eggs from the free-range hens of a Pennsylvania Amish family’s Millport Dairy Farm, purchased at their Union Square Greenmarket stall; heirloom tomatoes and small aji dulce spicy-fragrant but very sweet peppers, both from Eckerton Hill Farm; scallions from Lani’s Farm; Morton & Bassett dried Aleppo pepper from Westside Market; Malden salt and freshly-ground black pepper; dill flowers from Willow Wisp Farm; chopped thyme from Lani’s Farm and summer savory from Stokes Farm; toasted slices from both an organic multigrain baguette from Bread Alone and a She Wolf Bakery miche  (the 12th century was exciting!)
• the music was the reissued Hilliard Ensemble album, ‘Perotin’  (because the 12th century was exciting!)

I thought this would be pretty much a pro forma meal when I started cooking, but sometimes familiar ingredients and a familiar recipe end up as something uncommonly good, and even spectacularly good.

• one nearly 20 ounce hake fillet from from American Seafood Company in the Saturday 23rd Street market, cut into 4 pieces to make an even division for two servings, dredged in local North Country Farms Stone Ground Whole Wheat Flour that had been seasoned with plenty of sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, dipped into a shallow bowl in which one egg from Millport Dairy Farm had been beaten with a fork, sautéed (“over a brisk flame’, as Kyle Phillips‘ original recipe, for cod, ‘Merluzzo Dorato’, indicates), in more than 2 tablespoons of Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’ that had been scattered with almost a handful of small sage leaves (once fresh, and now almost completely dried) from Keith’s Farm, inside a heavy vintage oval copper skillet for about 7 minutes, turning the pieces half of the way through, then sprinkled with a little over 2 tablespoons of organic lemon juice from Whole Foods Market and any pan juices that remained, arranged on 2 plates, topped with segments of a tiny ear of corn I had found on the counter of Alex’s Tomato Farm in the 23rd Street greenmarket (it had become detached from a larger ear, and was all that remained of the farmers supply of corn when I spotted it) garnished with chopped parsley, also from Keith’s Farm, and served with lemon wedges

The only accompaniment to the hake was an improvisation, assembled from 4 vegetables I had on hand: 2 small fennel bulbs, 5 red scallions, 1 aji dulce pepper, and 4 very ripe heirloom tomatoes, and nothing else, really.

• two small fennel bulbs from Neversink Organic Farm, stems and fronds removed (the stems and most of the fronds kept for another use, some of the fronds set aside for a garnish), cut into wedges, and, with 3 roughly-chopped fresh spring shallots from Alewife Farm, sautéed inside a heavy high-sided tin-lined medium copper pot over medium high heat until the fennel had just begun to color, at which time one finely-chopped section of an aji dulce pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm was a stirred in and heated briefly to soften it, the heat lowered, the pan covered, the vegetables cooked for another 4 or 5 minutes, the cover removed, and 4 very different sizes and colors of heirloom tomatoes from Alewife farm, roughly chopped, added, the heat turned off and the mix stirred to soften them a bit, everything arranged on the plates and garnished with the chopped fronds of the fennel
• the wine was a Greek (Thessaly/Tyrnavos) white, Domaine Zafeirakis Paleomilos Malagousia 2016, from Flatiron Wines
• the music was the album, Ingram Marshall: Dark Waters, and then, while we lingered long at the table, a significant portion of a long (6-hours) piano piece, ‘Alvin Curran: Inner Cities’, performed by Daan Vandewalle

 

it’s a bucket of hammerhead shark steaks (I’d already picked out mine)

 

I’ve never seen a hammerhead shark steak in the Greenmarket.

In Friday I saw a hammerhead shark steak in the Greenmarket.

That night I cooked the hammerhead shark steak I saw in the Greenmarket.

It was a special occasion, since we were entertaining a friend visiting from Berlin, and I’m pretty sure there are no hammerhead shark steaks in Berlin. I was really intrigued, they looked beautiful, and I couldn’t resist buying some. It didn’t occur to me that I was taking a chance, especially sharing it with company, since I had never cooked hammerhead before, and neither of us had ever even tasted it.

Once home, I couldn’t find anything on line that seemed useful as a cooking suggestion, but something told me I could do worse than just treating it like swordfish, since I had done exactly that 2 years ago with a very different member of the shark family.

Fortunately I hadn’t really looked deeply into what was there on the internet until the next day, when I went back on line to learn more about what we had eaten the night before. It seemed that almost no one had anything good to say about the taste of hammerhead shark, and in fact much of the conversation was pretty frightening, especially when it got into the uric acid thing. One of the more positive comments read, “They are edible if you are starving.”

Well, we weren’t starving, and they were far more than merely edible. Maybe ours was a young one, and maybe the fisherman knew what he was doing. I would say that if there were any shortcomings, it was in its texture, or its dryness, both of which may have been my doing, although hammerhead flesh is described everywhere as meaty and firm. Still, I may have used too high a flame, and/or kept it on the heat a bit too long.

I’m willing to prepare it again, if I ever come across another, but most sharks of any kind appear in markets as a byproduct in a search for other fish, so it may be a while before I get a chance.

The vegetables were stars throughout the meal, and almost as exotic as the hammerhead.

Before we got started that night there was an aperitif.

• some rustic Italian breadsticks, Mario Fongo grissini integrali, from Buon Italia
• the wine was a California (Central Coast) sparkling white, Eponina Brut California NV, from Naked Wines

And also an appetizer.

• ten or 12 Japanese eggplant (or possibly ‘orient charm’ Chinese eggplant?) from Alewife Farm, each halved horizontally, brushed on all sides with a mixture of a little olive oil, 2 or more finely-chopped rocambole garlic cloves from Keith’s Farm, sea salt, and freshly-ground black pepper, pan-grilled on a seasoned, large double burner-size cast iron ribbed pan over a brisk flame, turning once or twice, sprinkled with chopped spearmint from Keith’s Farm, drizzled with a bit of olive oil, arranged on a serving platter with some pitted kalamata olives from Whole Foods Market, and garnished with more torn mint
• slices of an organic multigrain baguette from Bread Alone
• the wine was a Spanish (Catalonia/Terra Alta) white, áureo by Joseph Puig (100% Macabeo/Viura/Macabeu), the gift of our guest

The shark was just about the easiest part of the meal to prepare, once I had decided to treat it more or less like swordfish steak, using the same recipe I had sought out when I had cooked mako shark 2 years ago.

For the curious, or the ambitious, this is a pretty good video demonstrating how to fillet, maybe a 5-foot long hammerhead shark (it’s probably best to have a garage if you’re going to try it yourself).

• three 7-ounce thick (1 3/4″) hammerhead shark steaks from Pura Vida Seafood, rubbed with a mixture of fresh herbs (parsley, lovage, spearmint, and sage from Keith’s Farm; dill buds from Willow Wisp Farm; tender rosemary from Lani’s Farm; summer savory, from Stokes Farm), all chopped together with sea salt, some freshly-crushed black pepper and a large rocambole garlic clove from Keith’s Farm, some zest from an organic Whole Foods Market lemon, with a bit of olive oil to moisten the mix, most of it spread onto the surface of the fish before it was pan-grilled, basted throughout the cooking process with some of the reserved mixture, removed, ideally, while barely fully cooked in the center [I had gone a little further in this case; I blame it on my huge social distractions], arranged on the plates, finished with a squeeze of the lemon used for the zest and a drizzle of olive oil, garnished with bronze micro fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge, served with lemon quarters
• twelve ears of shucked baby bicolor corn from Alewife Farm, sautéed inside a large heavy vintage oval copper skillet in which a little butter and a little less olive oil had been heated until quite hot, sprinkled with Maldon salt, black pepper, and a little chopped aji dulce pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, finished with fresh chives from S. & S.O. Farm
• some tiny ‘wild’ tomatoes (‘Matt’s Wild Cherry’?) from Windfall Farms, warmed in a little olive oil inside a small vintage Pyrex skillet, seasoned with salt and pepper, sprinkled with dill blossoms from Willow Wisp Farms, arranged on the plates on top of some local Bowery Farm arugula from Foragers Market dressed with olive oil , lemon, salt, and pepper
• the wine was a  wonderful Spanish (Galicia) white, Valdesil, Godello Sobre Lias, 2015, from Flatiron Wines

There was a dessert, basically the classic American ‘cake and ice cream’.

• an scoop of delicious Old Mother Hubbert Dairy lemon basil gelato (ingredients: non fat dry milk, lemon juice, orange juice, fresh basil, lemon zest), produced at the Back to the Future Farm, near Middletown, NY, that I had picked up at Rose Hubbert‘s stand at the Union Square Greenmarket, resting on top of a slice of sour cream cheesecake from Bread Alone, also purchased in the Greenmarket

It’s a beautiful simple dish, and like most pasta marriages, the flavors slowly mature and improve as it’s consumed.

• more than a handful of thinly-sliced celery stalks from Neversink Organic Farm sautéed in a little olive oil inside a large antique high-sided copper pot over a medium flame until they had softened, one finely-chopped aji dulce pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm added near the end, then one large, orange roughly-chopped heirloom tomato, also from Eckerton Hill Farm, slipped in, everything seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, a decent amount of chopped celery leaves introduced and the pot stirred a bit before 10 ounces of al dente-cooked Setaro Torre Annunziata penne rigatoni were mixed in, along with nearly a cup of reserved pasta water, all stirred again until the liquid had emulsified, the pasta now arranged in 2 shallow bowls and sprinkled with more celery leaves and a generous amount of chopped chives from S. & S.O. Farms, a bit of olive oil drizzled around the edges
• the wine was an Italian (Tuscany) rosé, Castell’ in Villa, Toscana Rosato, 2017, from Flatiron Wines
• the music was the Brooklyn Rider album, ‘Seven Steps’

There were going to be three of us for dinner, as we were entertaining a favorite relative. I wanted the meal to be special, but it wasn’t a market day, so there wouldn’t be fish. I also wanted to be able to visit without any major cooking distractions, so I thought of steak. One of my favorite away-from-the-Union Square Greenmarket butcher shops is Dickson’s Farm Stand Meats, in Chelsea Market, only some 8 blocks away.

That’s were I headed Tuesday afternoon and that’s where I picked up 3 small perfect culotte steaks.

It’s also where I found our first course for that evening, conveniently already fully prepared, a luscious charcuterie I had never had before, pig’s face roulade (It. coppa di testa). It almost immediately became my favorite, at least until another comes along. This site isn’t that of the charcuterie folks from whom I purchased ours, but there are directions for anyone interested in learning more about pigs head, including how to prepare your own.

We began with bread sticks and a sparkling wine.

• the wine was an Italian (Veneto/Valdobbiadene) sparkling rosé, Bisol Jeio Prosecco Brut Rosé

The goodness of the first course surprised even me, and I had enjoyed a taste while still in the butcher shop.

• little over 6 ounces of a phenomenal pig’s face roulade house-made by Dickson’s Farm Stand Meats, served on plates with a little local Bowery Farm arugula from our very local Foragers Market
• slices from a quarter loaf of a She Wolf Bakery miche
• the wine was a Spanish/Catalonian (Corbera d’Ebre) white, L’abrunet de Frisach Blanc, from Flatiron Wines

The vegetables of the main course could be prepared, mostly, ahead of time, and that’s what I did. The steaks of course took only a few minutes, and fortunately for the company they kept any ideas they might have had about smoking up the kitchen entirely to themselves.

• three very trim 7-ounce culotte/picanha steaks, also from Dickson’s Farm Stand Meats, brought to room temperature, seasoned on all sides with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, seared briefly on the thick, fat-covered top side inside an oval enameled heavy cast iron pan, the 2 long sides cooked for 3 or 4 minutes each, removed from the pan, at the moment they had become perfectly medium-rare, drizzled with some heirloom tomato waters that remained from 2 recent meals, scattered with a bit of thinly-sliced red scallion from Berried Treasures Farm, sprinkled with a bit of chopped young, very fresh and fragrant rosemary from Lani’s Farm, finished with a drizzle of Whole Foods Market house Portuguese olive oil, and allowed to rest for about 4 minutes
• enough olive oil to cover its bottom poured into a large sturdy seasoned steel skillet above a high flame, adding, just before the oil was ready to smoke, skin side down and not crowding, 13 ounces of very sweet ‘Love Apple’ red peppers from Alewife Farm, halved, the few seeds and membranes removed, sprinkled with salt, a heavy weight (a foil-covered cast iron skillet slightly-smaller than the pan with the peppers) placed on top of them for 30 seconds or so, removed, the peppers moved around with tongs to blister them evenly, and once well blistered, flipped or arranged skin side up, the weighted pan added again for another 30 seconds or more, until the peppers were just about cooked, but not too limp, then stirring in all of the basil leaves I had left from a Massachusetts Full Bloom Market Garden live plant (a Whole Foods Market purchase), and less than a tablespoon of balsamic vinegar
• six small green heirloom plum tomatoes from Campo Rosso Farm, halved, their surfaces dried, the cut sides placed on top of a mix of sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper spread across a plate, pan-grilled inside an enameled cast iron pan for a few minutes, turned and grilled for a slightly shorter time, removed, drizzled with a little olive oil and sprinkled with chopped lovage from Keith’s Farm
• the wine was a Spanish (Rioja) red, La Rioja Alta, Rioja Reserva ‘Vigna Alberdi’, 2012, also from Flatiron Wines