Month: August 2018

chorizo; cucumber, shallot, dill; potato, basil; seared pepper

I had no idea what I was doing until I did it.

I started with the chorizo, picked out the cucumber, and then the potato, but because the cucumber was small and because I had no idea when I would use a potential third vegetable if it wasn’t in this dinner, 2 mild peppers were also tabbed, almost at the last moment.

The table welcomed a bit each of Spain, New York City (Yorkville and Chelsea), India, Vermont, Venezuela, Pennsylvania, New York’s Orange County, Connecticut, New Jersey, New Mexico, the Rhineland, and seventeenth-century France. The meal had no dominant ethnicity, but the plate looked pretty interesting, and it was all very tasty.

  • four links of ‘Spanish Style Chorizo’ from Schaller & Weber’s Yorkville store, pan-fried inside an oval enameled cast iron pan, served with an apricot mustard from Dixon Farm Stand in the Chelsea Market
  • one 6-ounce ‘Poona Kheera’ cucumber (a variety sometimes labelled, less accurately, as a ‘Sikkim cucumber’), from Norwich Meadows Farm, sliced unpeeled into rounds 2 cm thick, sautéed in a little olive oil inside a medium antique high-sided copper pot over a medium-high flame, lightly-sprinkled with salt each time (I should have allowed the pieces to begin carbonizing, but I was otherwise distracted), adding a few 2 cm-thick slices of a fresh bulbous shallot from Tamarack Hollow Farm and most of an aji dulce pepper (not hot) from Eckerton Hill Farm more than half way through, seasoned with freshly-ground black pepper, arranged on the plates, garnished with fresh dill buds from Willow Wisp Farm
  • small red skinned new potatoes from Willow Wisp Farm, boiled in well-salted water, drained, dried in the still-warm large vintage Pyrex glass pot, rolled in a little olive oil, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, tossed with basil buds from Windfall Farms and garnished with bronze micro fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge
  • two Anaheim peppers from Oak Grove Plantation seared in a little olive oil inside a small vintage seasoned cast iron pan until they had blistered, sprinkled with sea salt and black pepper
  • the wine was a German (Pfalz) red, Ein Liter Rhodt, Stefan Meyer 2015 (a blend of Portugieser, Saint Laurent and Dornfelder), from Astor Wines
  • the music was Lully’s 1686 tragédie en musique, ‘Armide’, Philippe Herreweghe directing the Collegium Vocale and La Chappel Royale

shishito; savory butter-baked pollock; tomatoes, basil buds

We’ve been big fans of pimientos de padron for more than a decade, later including Shishito peppers, their east Asian cousins, in the same category.

The excellent Pollock is a very different thing, and in its case our modest fan club only goes back about 18 months, but we’re as fond of it as we are of the peppers. Curiously, the American general public’s awareness of the beauties of our genus pollachius is today roughly at the same level as the peppers were to us, and, I would say, to many others, when we first tried them in 2007: Most people are something of a state of ignorance about Pollock, mostly because they never hear about it.

I decided that was a respectable excuse for including the two in the same meal.

  • a couple handful of Shishito peppers from Alewiife Farm, washed, drained, dried, then sautéed over medium high heat in a broad cast iron pan for a few minutes, stirring, then salted and served on plates, more, Maldon salt added
  • slices of a sesame baguette from Bread Alone Bakery (they’ve decided to put the sesame inside, apparently to reduce defections of the seeds)

The pollock showed up for the main course.

  • two 8-ounce white-fleshed pollock filets from American Seafood Company, rinsed, dried, halved, and seasoned on both sides with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, placed skin side down inside a buttered oval tin-lined copper gratin pan, spread with a mixture of softened unsalted Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’ that had been mixed with zest from most of an organic Whole Foods Market lemon, a little chopped, almost mature Rocambole garlic from Keith’s Farm, slices of a section of one young red onion (something like a red scallion) from Berried Treasures Farm, a bit of a finely-chopped aji dulce pepper (with a mild, smoky flavor, and sweet, not hot) from Eckerton Hill Farm, the fish baked for about 15-17 minutes at 350º, removed to 2 plates, the little bit of cooking juices that had accumulated poured over the top, and a teaspoon or so of Sicilian salted capers, which had first been rinsed, drained, dried and heated briefly inside a small antique enameled cast iron porringer in a bit of olive oil, scattered while still warm on top of the fillets, along with the oil in which they had been heated, the pollock finished with a garnish of what looks in the image like green fireworks ‘brocades’, but was actually only sprays of dill flower buds from Willow Wisp Farm

parslied/licorice-d cod; tomatoes, basil; potatoes, oregano

Licorice-d cod.

The only thing about this meal that was not familiar was one of the herbs that found its way into it, with some help from Lani’s Farm.

Blue licorice‘, is what the little sign read, but it wasn’t blue, and it didn’t look like anything I knew that was associated with one of my favorite flavors. I looked it up right there, while standing in front of its little bucket.

What I learned from a quick scan allowed me to imagine using it in preparing the cod filet I had bought moments before.

And that’s what I did, although I played it safe by including the more conventional parsley in the mix.

  • a very fresh cod fillet (19 ounces) from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, divided into 4 portions, 2 larger, 2 smaller (cutting 2 portions of the same size would have been almost a geometric impossibiity, because of the shape of the filet), dredged lightly in a seasoned, coarse, stone-ground local flour, from the Blew family of Oak Grove Mills Mills, that I had purchased in the Union Square Greenmarket, then dipped into a mixture of one beaten Americauna chicken egg from Millport Dairy Farm into which a cup of a combination of chopped Italian parsley from Keith’s Farm and ‘blue licorice’ (agastache rugosa, aka Korean mint or Indian mint) from Lani’s Farm, before being placed in a mix of olive oil and butter (one tablespoon of each) over a medium-high flame, sautéed inside a heavy oval vintage copper pan, turning once, for a total of about 7 or 8 minutes, drizzled with juice from an organic Whole Foods Market lemon and garnished with bronze micro fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge
  • two halved tomatoes (a large yellow heirloom from Eckerton Hill Farm and a smaller red one from Norwich Meadows Farm) seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, pan-grilled, arranged on the plates, sprinkled with some torn leaves of Gotham Greens Rooftop basil from Whole Foods Market

mustard/fennel-coated lamb rack; grilled tomato; cicoria

We were anxious to find a good day for enjoying the second of the 2 racks of lamb I had gotten from Walter Adam‘s farm stall in the Union Square Greenmarket 3 months ago, although I hadn’t expected it would happen during a New York August. What made it possible was a new split-system AC that turned out to be fully up to the challenge of an oven set at almost 500º. I didn’t even work up a sweat; it was an impressive performance (referring to the unit).

At least the vegetables observed both the look and the warmth of the season (the colors were right, and only one of the 2 asked to borrow any heat at all).

  • one 18-ounce rack of baby lamb from Shannon Brook Farm, trimmed (removing the ‘bark’, or skin covering the fat; cutting off all excess fat; ‘Frenching’, conservatively, and cleaning the ribs of all meat and fat; removing the rubbery tendon that runs along the spine; cutting out the chine altogether), cut into two 4-rib sections, seasoned generously with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper and the oven lit and set to 475º (reduced to 375º once the lamb was put into the oven), one tablespoon of olive oil heated inside a small heavy, enameled cast iron pan until hot but not smoking, the lamb placed inside to brown, the arced, bone side down first, followed by all the other surfaces in turn, for about one minute per side, removed and all sides but the ends rolled in a shallow bowl which held a mixture of one fourth of a cup of whole yellow mustard seeds [less than 2 tablespoons would actually be enough] and 2 teaspoons of Sicilian fennel seeds, both toasted together inside a large vintage seasoned cast iron skillet over medium heat until they had become fragrant, at which time they were immediately transferred to the bowl in which the lamb was to be rolled, in order to cool slightly, the meat now returned to the pan in which it had been seared, from which most of the fat had been poured out, transferred to the oven (now set at 375º), roasted until a thermometer inserted into the center of the lamb registered 135º, or medium-rare, or roughly 20 minutes [I left them in the oven a bit too long this time, although there was still some red when they were first set onto the cutting surface], removed from the oven and the pan, allowed to stand at least 10 minutes, each of the 2 sections cut into double chops, arranged on the plates and drizzled with Whole Foods Market house Portuguese olive oil, finished with a garnish of micro red mustard from Two Guys from Woodbridge
  • two ‘Opalka‘ plum, or paste tomatoes from Eckerton Hill Farm, halved, dried thoroughly, placed cut side down on a plate sprinkled with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, pan-grilled and finished with a dab of olive oil and a bit of balsamic vinegar,
  • more puntarelle, or cicoria di catalogna, from the tied bundle I’d purchased from Tamarack Hollow Farm, prepared as they had been the first time, meaning thoroughly washed, the leaves separated and placed inside a large bowl of ice water where they were allowed to sit outside the refrigerator for about an hour, or a little more, drained and dried (using a kitchen towel), placed inside the now emptied and dried bowl, and some of the vinegar mixture that was prepared but not used a few days earlier poured over it, the greens seasoned very lightly with sea salt, and a tablespoon or so of olive oil added, along with freshly-ground black pepper, the salad mixed or tossed at the last minute and arranged on the plates
  • the wine was a California (El Dorado) red, Matt Parish Pilot Hill Gang El Dorado County Red Blend 2016, from Naked Wines
  • the music was Haydn’s ‘Die Jahreszeiten’ (The Seasons), Philippe Herreweghe conducting the Orchestre des Champs-Elysees and the Collegium Vocale Gent

a colorful breakfast (actually, it really was a lunch this time)

It was all good. It also wasn’t really breakfast time any more, by the time we enjoyed it, even in the terms of our own late-eating habits.

  • from Millport Dairy Farm there was thick bacon and Americauna chicken eggs (with thinly-sliced new shallot stems from Tamarack Hollow Farm, fresh oregano buds from Norwich Meadows Farm, and bronze micro fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge, home-dried habanada pepper and fresh oregano buds from Norwich Meadows Farm; there was also a mix of small tomatoes from Alewife Farm with sliced red scallions from Berried Treasures Farm and Gotham Greens Rooftop basil from Whole Foods, and, finally, lightly-toasted slices of 2 different breads (polenta boule and twelve Grain & Seed bread, both from Bread Alone
  • our Sunday music was the album, ‘In Paradisum, The Music of Victoria and Palestrina‘, performed by the Hilliard Ensemble

cod liver; ‘spanish’ shrimp; green tomato; cucumber, shallot

The cod liver tasted a bit like foie gras, but without the guilt, which is to say, it was delicious.

  • four ounces of Icelandic canned cod liver (Skansen) from the Schaller & Weber store, served with little more than pinches of a few condiments (freshly-ground black pepper, Sicilian wild fennel pollen from Buon Italia, fresh dill buds from Alewife Farm, sliced red scallion from Berried Treasures Farm, and slices of an organic Whole Foods Market lemon)
  • slices of a Fruit & Seed Brød from Bread Alone (perhaps a mørkt rug frugt brød?)

The main course featured wild shrimp, which I believe has never shown up on this blog before. When I have cooked this delectable crustacean, it’s always been the excellent farmed shrimp that Jean Claude Frajmund raises up the Hudson, in Newburgh, New York. Eco Shrimp Garden now appears in the Union Square Greenmarket on Saturdays only, and that’s the day I normally do not appear there (mostly because of the weekend crowds of gawkers, and because we are inclined to do other stuff that afternoon.

But I do usually pay a brief visit to the Chelsea Down to Earth Farmers Market on 23rd Street, the little market which is set up less than a block from us every Saturday. This time the market’s regular seafood vender had ‘super jumbo’ shrimp that one of their boats had netted, beheaded, and quickly frozen while fishing in North Carolina waters that week.

They were almost local, or at least more local than the Gulf, and way more local than southeast Asia.

The image of the shrimp sautéing mimics that of the cucumbers I had started a few minutes earlier.

  • one teaspoon of chopped, still slightly immature Rocambole garlic from Keith’s Farm heated inside a very heavy 13 1/2″ cast iron pan over a very low flame until the garlic had colored nicely, followed by a pinch of Spanish saffron, one dried chipotle pepper from Northshire Farms in the Union Square Greenmarket, one crushed section of a dried orange-gold habanada pepper, and a teaspoon of freshly-ground dried cumin seed from Eataly, all of it stirred together for a minute or two before 20 ‘extra jumbo’ North Carolina shrimp were placed inside the pan (I had cut through the length of their backs, from head to tail, for ease of shelling after they were cooked and on the plates), the shrimp seasoned with salt and pepper and the heat brought up a bit, the shrimp cooked until firm while being turned twice, served on the plates with a generous squeeze of lemon, garnished with chopped parsley from Keith’s Farm
  • five tiny halved green tomatoes from Campo Rosso Farm, sautéed in a little olive oil inside a small vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pan, seasoned with Maldon salt and freshly-ground black pepper, garnished with fresh dill buds from Alewife Farm

bluefish ‘Greek style’, micro fennel; romano beans, dill buds

We weren’t certain when, or absolutely certain where, we would be eating last night. We were invited to a friend’s birthday party, in Boerum Hill, where we celebrated earlier in the evening, and we lingered longer than we had expected to. I must however have assumed all along that I’d end up cooking dinner, since I had purchased a beautiful big section of a bluefish fillet in the Greenmarket that afternoon, and I would never have even thought about waiting untio the next day to cook it.

We always eat late, and this was the weekend, so it wasn’t entirely incredible that we wouldn’t be sitting down to eat until 12:20 in the morning. What would have been less credible was any liklihood that it would be one of my best meals ever.

We began supper at 12:20 in the morning and it was one of my best meals ever.

  • one 21-ounce bluefish from Pura vida Seafood, rinsed, cut into 2 sections, rubbed with olive oil and a little Columela Rioja 30 Year Reserva sherry vinegar, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, placed inside a vintage oval tin-lined copper au gratin pan, sprinkled liberally with a very pungent dried Sicilian oregano from Buon Italia and a bit of dried peperoncino Calabresi secchi, also from Buon Italia, then covered/layered with thin slices of one small red onion, thin slices of one ripe medium heirloom red tomato, and more than a tablespoon of chopped fresh oregano buds, all from Norwich Meadows Farm; plus 8 or 9 pitted and halved Gaeta olives from Eataly; and several thin slices of a Whole Foods Market organic lemon, the pan placed inside a 425º and baked for just under 20 minutes (rather than the usual 15 minutes, because the fish was thicker than those I had cooked in the past), arranged on the plates and garnished with micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge
  • romano beans from Berried Treasures Farm, parboiled for a few minutes, drained, dried, reheated in olive oil inside a heavy seasoned vintage cast iron pan, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, tossed with fresh dill buds from Alewife Farm, arranged on the plates, more dill and a drizzle of olive oil added
  • the wine was a California (Mendocino and Lake counties) white, Scott Peterson Rumpus California Sauvignon Blanc 2017, from Naked Wines

There was a sweet, and it seemed made to follow this Mediterranean entrée.

  • an unadorned scoop or so of incredibly 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

 

emmer reginetti with puntarelle, capers, lemon; melon, lime

It had been a tough day, with both of us at home again, trying to not stress out while a handful of guys were busy both inside the apartment and on the roof garden just outside, installing a split-system AC system [yes!]. Although they were finished and gone by the end of the afternoon, it was late in the evening before I had returned to its place each item that had been moved to accommodate their labors and the size of the boxes they had brought in the day before. There was also a lot of vacuuming and spraying of roof pavers.

At this point the suggestion that we order pizza was made, but I decided I’d prefer to cook, and would actually be up to doing so, something easy, especially something that would incorporate a green we had prized the day before, since there was still some remaining in the crisper, already washed but not dressed.

I was shocked by my ambition, under the circumstances, and Barry even more so, but it really was easy, and it really was delicious.

  • two maturing Rocambole garlic cloves from Keith’s Farm and one small whole dried pepperoncino Calabresi secchi, from Buon Italia, heated together inside an antique, high-sided copper pot until the garlic had softened and become pungent, then several handfuls of thinly-sliced puntarelle leaves from Tamarack Hill Farm that had been washed (and ice-water chilled, the day before) were gradually added, while stirring over a low-to-moderate flame, after which 8 ounces of some of Brooklyn’s own pasta, in this case an emmer reginetti, aka, mafaldine (‘little queens’) from Sfoglini Pasta Shop in the Union Square Greenmarket, that had been cooked al dente, were introduced, along with almost 2 tablespoons of Sicilian salted capers from Buon Italia that had first been rinsed thoroughly and dried on a piece of paper towel, and some organic Whole Foods Market lemon juice, before gradually pouring into the pot at least half of a cup of reserved pasta water while stirring, until the sauce was emulsified, the pasta seasoned with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, arranged in 2 shallow bowls, a good olive oil drizzled around the circumference, and shavings of some Parmigiano Reggiano Hombre from Whole Foods Market scattered on top
  • the wine was an Italian (Marche) white, Le Salse, Verdicchio di Matelica, 2016, from Flatiron Wines

There was a dessert.

  • segments of an Asian/Korean melon from Norwich Meadows Farm, served with segments of lime from Whole Foods Market and a bit of Maldon Salt

 

marinated grilled swordfish; tomatoes, thyme; puntarelle

The excellent swordfish and the luscious tomatoes were terrific side dishes for the puntarelle, a huge hit with both Barry and myself last night; it was probably the best we’d ever had at home.

 

  • two thick 7.5-ounce swordfish steaks from American Seafood Company in the Union Square Greenmarket, halved, marinated for more than half an hour in a mixture of a couple tablespoons of olive oil, a bit of a pungent dried Sicilian oregano, sold still on the stems at Buon Italia, a small amount of crushed, dried pepperoncino Calabresi secchi, also from Buon Italia, about the same bit of a piece of crushed dried golden/orange habanada pepper, and a thinly-sliced section of a small early, scallion-like red onion from Berried Treasures Farm, after which they were drained, covered on both sides with a coating of homemade dried breadcrumbs, pan-grilled over medium-high heat for 4 minutes on each side, or until barely cooked all of the way through, removed, arranged on the plates, seasoned with a little Maldon salt, drizzled with some tomato water that remained from an earlier meal, a bit of juice from a Whole Foods Market organic lemon squeezed on top, sprinkled with a bit of onion that had been preserved, drizzled with a little olive oil, finished with a garnish of micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge
  • four ripe heirloom tomatoes, of different colors, sizes and shapes, and from 2 different local fields, those of Norwich Meadows Farm and Eckerton Hill Farm, halved, sprinkled with a small amount of sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, briefly placed inside the grill pan just as the swordfish was being removed, turned over once, then arranged on the plates, drizzled with a little olive oil and garnished with chopped thyme from Campo Rosso Farm
  • only a part of a generous tied bundle of puntarelle from Tamarack Hollow Farm, thoroughly washed, the leaves separated and placed inside a large bowl of ice water, where they were allowed to sit outside the refrigerator for about one hour, while, half an hour later, three quarters of a tablespoon of red wine vinegar was placed inside a small bowl with 2 well-rinsed, finely-chopped large Agostino Recca salted Sicilian anchovies and 2 crushed Rocambole garlic cloves from Keith’s Farm, also allowed to rest, for this time for only about half an hour, and also outside the refrigerator, at which time the garlic was removed from the small bowl and the puntarelle was drained and dried (using a kitchen towel), placed inside a large bowl, the vinegar mixture poured over it, the greens seasoned very lightly with sea salt, and one and a half tablespoons of olive oil added, along with freshly-ground black pepper, and then the salad mixed or tossed at the last minute and served [the puntarelle I have always prepared appears to be a leaf-only version of Cicoria Cataglogna, I’ve never seen the form with the juicy edible shoots, or sweet, hollow inner stalks, in our own local greenmarket; there’s more information here]
  • the wine was a  wonderful Spanish (Galicia) white, Valdesil, Godello Sobre Lias, 2015, from Flatiron Wines
  • the music was the album, ‘Ramon Llull: Temps de conquestes, de diàleg i desconhort’, Jordi Savall conducting Hespérion XXI and La Capella Reial de Catalunya

penne, pepquinos, lemon, habanada, fenugreek, micro basil

They may not be cucumbers, and they look like micro watermelon, but they sure taste like cucumbers, albeit slightly sour cucumbers, with an added, and very distinctive, ‘pop’ when bitten into.

  • a simple sauced pasta which began with a couple tablespoons of olive oil inside a high-sided tin-lined copper pot gently heating more than half a pound of halved ‘Mexican gherkins’ (not actually cucumbers, but ‘pepquinos’, or ‘Melothria scabra‘) along with a little crushed dried habanada pepper, after which 8 ounces of an al dente-cooked Setaro Torre Annunziata penne rigatoni were mixed in, and also about half a cup of reserved pasta cooking water, the mix stirred in the pot until the liquid had emulsified, the zest and juice of a Whole Foods organic lemon squeezed added, the pasta seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground pepper, placed in 2 shallow bowls, topped with a pinch of fenugreek and garnished with purple micro basil and drizzled with a little olive oil
  • the wine was an Italian (Sicily) white, Valle dell’Acate, Grillo “Zagra”, 2017, from Flatiron Wines
  • the music was the album, ‘Night Of The Mayas – Music Of Silvestre Revueltas’