On Mondays, the first and slowest day of the Union Square Greenmarket week, the selection of seafood at the Karlin family’s stand is always smaller than it is on Saturday, the busiest Greenmarket day of the week, and as it was, yesterday I arrived later than usual. Jan and Karl [Carl?] both told me they had brought even less of a catch than they usually do, because of the heavy weather (we call it a nor’easter in New England, and far eastern Long Island is basically more New England than it is New York). Consequently, by the time I arrived at the fish stand fairly late on Monday and because I cook fish 3 or 4 days of the week, there was almost nothing in the buckets that I hadn’t cooked quite recently.

But there was a good supply of whiting (whole, but they had lost their heads somewhere since leaving the sea). I rarely cook whole fish, mostly because I think of it as a bit of a fuss – or maybe I should say, ‘stressful’ – both to prepare and to eat, and, looking back on this site, it seems that I’ve only cooked whole whiting twice before.

Their relative novelty, and the fact that, when I asked for help deciding, both mongers pointed to the bucket holding what I have since learned are, technically,  Merlucciidae, of the larger family Gadidae, together pushed me over the top. I usually do go with the recommendations given by the people selling their own comestibles.

There was also some significant economy in buying whole fish over fillets, and this species is already seriously underpriced, especially relative to its many virtues. While the difference of a few dollars, especially when you’re only buying for 2 people, isn’t really enough to outweigh other considerations, I went with the whiting.

I bought a larger amount, by weight, than I usually do: It set me back all of $4.90 for one and a quarter pounds of very fresh, cleaned (although I cut off most of the remaining fins) beautifully whole, (but without heads) fish, and they were easily filleted on the plates.

The vegetable was somewhat more expensive than the whiting, but every bit as delicious.

The recipe? While I was still at the market I hadn’t remembered cooking it before, so I looked on line, to at least reassure myself that I could do it without much fuss, more than as an actual guide, but I ended up actually using the first recipe that came up on my phone screen. It surely helped that I had all of the spices, whole, except for the cayenne, in my kitchen cabinet.

I’ll probably be repeating this recipe in some form with other meals, and other fish, especially hake or cod, although I should try to remember that, for more af a Moroccan effect, the fish can be prepped with the spice rub, as with a marinade, and then refrigerated for up to a day (placed in a colander set in a deep bowl and covered tightly, left in the refrigerator until ready to cook).

• six fresh whiting (18 ounces altogether), from P.E. & D. D. Seafood, heads removed, stomach cavities cleaned, and fins cut off as best as possible, washed and drained, sprinkled about 1 teaspoon, or a little more, of Moroccan Fish Spice* and a little bit of salt, coated lightly with about a fourth of a cup of Union Square Greenmarket-purchased whole wheat flour from The Blew family of Oak Grove Plantation in Pittstown, N.J., set aside in a single layer on a large plate or platter, while about a third of a cup of olive oil was poured into a large enameled cast iron pan, fully coating the bottom, and heated for two or three minutes over medium heat, the fish placed inside the pan without crowding and fried, turning only once, until light to medium golden on both sides, adding a little more oil if needed (these 3-ounce whiting took 7 to 8 minutes on each side), transferred to a plate lined with paper towels to drain, then arranged on the plates and served with lemon eighths

*Moroccan Fish Spice (amounts produce 3 teaspoons of spice)

1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground coriander
1/4 teaspoon cayenne
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice

• seven small Turkish eggplants from Norwich Meadows Farm, each cut horizontally into 3 slices, mixed with a little olive oil, one large chopped Rocambole garlic clove from Keith’s Farm, sea salt, and freshly-ground black pepper, pan-grilled on an enameled cast iron ribbed pan over a brisk flame, turning once or twice, one thin chopped scallion from Keith’s Farm and 8 pitted and halved Kalamata olives added near the end (or both heated gently inside a small pan and mixed with the eggplant after it had been grilled), tossed in  a bowl with some torn peppermint leaves from Keith’s Farm, arranged on the plates, drizzled with a bit of olive oil, garnished with more mint
• the wine was a California (Russian River Valley) white, DRG Daryl Groom Russian River Valley Chardonnay 2017, from Naked Wines
• because we needed a little ‘Das himmlische Leben‘ yesterday, the music was Mahler’s Symphonie No 4, Philippe Herreweghe conducting the Champs-elysees Orchestra

No tomato of any kind showed up this time.

• what did: eggs from pastured Americauna chickens and thick bacon from pastured pigs, both products of Millport Dairy Farm; Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’ from Whole Foods Market; finely-chopped pieces of a fresh yellow Granada pepper from Alewife Farm (not hot) and a fresh red aji rico pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, (medium spicy/hot); 3 small scallions from Keith’s Farm; Maldon salt; freshly-ground black pepper; chopped lovage from Keith’s Farm; and slices, some toasted and some not. toasts from a She Wolf Bakery a sourdough bâtard and a sturdy ‘Bolzano Miche’ (white wheat flour, spelt flour, rye flour, rye sourdough, yeast, coriander, cumin, and fennel) from Brooklyn’s Runner & Stone Bakery

• the music was chosen at least partly in response to the horrific events in Pittsburgh the day before:  Handel’s ‘Belshazzar’, an oratorial in 3 acts which premiered in 1745, in a performance by William Christie and Les Arts Florissants (“The libretto’s subject, which focuses on the decline of a once glorious society and the ephemeral nature of Empire, is especially relevant today.” – from the notes on the Amazon listing)

 

[image of Rembrandt’s ‘Het feestmaal van Belsazar‘ (ca. 1635-1639) from Art and the Bible]

This recipe, as described by Mark Bittman long ago, is really quite simple, but I have not always been able to leave it as I found it. This time I included small bits of 2 different seasoning peppers, an heirloom tomato, and a colorful micro green, and I eliminated the parsley.

• two cod fillets (19-ounces total) from P.E. & D.D. Seafood in the Union Square greenmarket, washed and rinsed, placed in a platter on a bed of coarse sea salt, more salt added on top until the pieces were completely covered then set aside while a bed of potatoes was prepared for them by slicing lengthwise (to a thickness of roughly 1/4″) a pound or so of Norland red potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, tossing them in a large bowl with a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and a large section of an orange/gold home-dried Habanada pepper (bought fresh last fall from Norwich Meadows Farm), arranging the potatoes, overlapping, inside a rectangular glazed ceramic oven pan, and cooking them for 25 minutes or so in a 400º oven, or until they were tender when pierced, but not quite fully cooked, then, the cod fillets, having already been removed from the platter and their salt covering, thoroughly immersed in many fresh changes of water to bring down the saltiness (the soaking process somehow gives the fish more solidity, which can be easily felt while it’s being handled it at this point; it’s kinda sexy), drained and dried, were placed inside the pan on top of the potatoes, drizzled with a little olive oil, sprinkled with some freshly-ground black pepper, and vaguely blanketed with thin slices of one green heirloom tomato from Eckerton Hill Farm, the tomato seasoned lightly, the pan returned to the oven for [for 5-ounce fillets, it might be 8 or 9 minutes, so maybe 9 or 10 minutes (the exact time depends on the thickness of the fillets)], or until just cooked through, removing the fish and tomato with a spatula (or, better, 2 spatulas), along with as much of the potatoes as can be brought with each piece, arranging everything as intact as possible on the plates, returning to the pan for the remainder of the potatoes, the servings garnished with a purple micro radish from Windfall Farms
• slices of a She Wolf Bakery sourdough bâtard

• delicate purple mustard greens from Norwich Meadow Farms, wilted for only seconds in a little live oil in which 2 small cloves of sliced rocambole garlic from Keith’s Farm had been allowed to sweat, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground pepper, finished on the plates with a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a California white, Miriam Alexandra Chenin Blanc California 2017, from Naked Wines

• the music was Mozart’s ‘ Mitridate, rè di Ponto’, Christophe Rousset conducting Les Talens Lyriques

 

[the image of the program for the 1770 premier performance of the opera is from One Delightful Day]

Even without an occasion, quail always seems like an occasion.

• a brace of pasture-raised certified organic quail from Abra Morawiec’s Feisty Acres Farm in Jamesport, Long Island, each weighing a little more than 8 ounces, rinsed, dried inside and out, the cavities seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, with one quarter of a gently squeezed organic Whole Foods Market lemon inserted in each, the legs tied together and the wings sewn close to the body, their bodies rubbed all over with a mix of spices and olive oil (a third of a teaspoon of cumin and a fourth of a teaspoon of coriander, ground together and placed in a small bowl, where a bit of powdered Nigerian cayenne and 2 tablespoons of olive oil were added) then sprinkled with a bit of salt and pepper, the birds placed breast side up in a small enameled cast iron roasting pan just large enough to accommodate both (set on top of sections of 2 celery stems from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, to keep them upright), placed in a 425º oven for about 9 or 10 minutes, at which time they were brushed with the remaining spice and oil mixture, continued with the roasting until done (an instant-read thermometer would register 150º, and the meat should feel slightly firm, and the juices run pale pink if the bird is punctured with a skewer), then removed from the oven, covered with tin foil and allowed to rest for 5 minutes before they were arranged on warm plates, drizzled with the pan juices and garnished with chopped parsley from Keith’s Farm

• one pound of pinto potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, halved lengthwise, tossed with a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, rosemary leaves from from Stokes Farm, a small amount of crushed dark home-dried habanada pepper, then arranged cut side down on a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at about 425º for about 20 minutes

• the central part of what had been a large head of Treviso radicchio from Tamarack Farms (I had used the outer leaves in an earlier meal) cut lengthwise into 4 quarters, the solid stem ends pierced with a knife to allow for even cooking, each quarter pierced with toothpicks (it was faster than tying them with string), arranged on a medium size Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic oven pan, branches of thyme from Keith’s Farm cast on top, seasoned generously with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, drizzled with a tablespoon or 2 of olive oil, baked in a pre-heated 425º oven for 10 minutes or so, turned over and baked for another 8 or 10 minutes, arranged on the plates and drizzled with a very small amount of balsamic vinegar
• the wine was an excellent Portuguese (Douro) red, Casa de Arrochella Grandes Quintas Colheita 2009, from Garnet Wines
• the music was Mahler’s Symphony No. 2, Rafael Kubelik conducting the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra and the Bavarian Radio Chorus, with soloists Edith Mathis and Brigitte Fassbaender

    Aufersteh’n, ja aufersteh’n wirst du,
    Mein Staub, nach kurzer Ruh!

[image above, of Alma and Gustav Mahler walking near Toblach, from Alma]

I’ve been cooking skate wing for decades, but at least since initiating this food blog I’ve always resisted preparing it in the only way it seems everyone knows it, mostly because it is the only way everyone knows it: sautéed in brown butter and served with capers.

Last night, for a fresh thick un-filleted skate wing (a left-wing, I figure), to make it easy on myself, and to make it quick, I turned to a recipe that included the capers, as well as something that looked and tasted a bit like brown butter, but wasn’t.

It really was easy, and pretty quick, but it was also a much richer dish than the classic (I improvised a bit on the basic recipe I had found, and I also had some other great comestibles to work with).

Oh, although it probably wasn’t necessary, as the skate wing was a bit on the small side, I also bought half a dozen scallops while at the fish stand. although I didn’t know what I was going to do with them until I had started preparing the meal. Only while writing this post did I realize that in grilling them and placing them next to the skate I may have summoned up the old ‘fish story’ (surely apocryphal) about unscrupulous fish sellers sometimes using cookie cutters to create scallops out of skate wings, which is the much cheaper catch on any day.

• one large green heirloom tomato from Eckerton Hill Farm, sliced horizontally into 6 sections, tossed gently inside a shallow bowl with less than a tablespoon of olive oil and less than one crushed peperoncino Calabresi secchia from Buon Italia, arranged inside a medium glazed ceramic oven pan and roasted for about 10 minutes, after which one whole skate wingfrom American Seafood Company (unfilleted, but with the bone removed from the end where it was attached to the body), seasoned with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, transferred to the pan, moving the tomatoes to one side, and roasted for another 15 minutes or so, when a mixture of a tablespoon of olive oil, half a tablespoon of lemon juice, half a teaspoon of Dijon mustard, and more than a half tablespoon of rinsed salted Sicilian capers, a section of 2 different finely chopped seasoning peppers, a small aji dulce pepper and a small (sweet) yellow Grenada seasoning pepper, both from Eckerton Hill Farm, that had been whisked together, was poured over the fish and tomatoes, the pan returned to the oven for 2 or 3 minutes, removed, its contents arranged on the plates, the tomatoes next to the skate, 3 sea scallops, also from American Seafood Company, that had been generously seasoned with salt and pepper and briefly pan-grilled, placed on top of the tomatoes, lemon quarters placed to the side of the plates

• a large number of loose chard leaves from Keith’s Farm wilted inside a a large enameled cast iron pot in a couple tablespoons of Portuguese olive oil, a house brand of Whole Foods Market, in which 2 gently crushed and halved rocambole garlic cloves, also from Keith’s Farm, had first been heated and softened slightly, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, finished with a little lemon juice and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was from California (Napa Valley), Matt Iaconis Napa Valley Chardonnay 2017, from Naked Wines
• the music was the album, ‘L’Anonyme Parisien‘, works by the French baroque composer, Charles Dollé

I love any variation of pasta with cauliflower; I usually manage to include many of the tender leaves in the dish, and not just for their color.

For a baked version, I’ve almost always used a great recipe from ‘Cucina Simpatica‘, but Tuesday evening I didn’t have 2 of the ingredients needed, so I looked elsewhere, and pulled this Martha Rose Shulman recipe out of my files. I had only enough cauliflower for a half portion, so unfortunately there were no leftovers this time (this sort of thing always seems to taste even better the second time around).

• the ingredients were 3 small heads of yellow cauliflower form Norwich Meadows Farm, a pinch of Spanish Valgosa Safinter saffron, one large clove of Keith’s Farm rocambole garlic, 2 Agostino Recca salted Sicilian anchovies from Buon Italia, half of a can of domestic San Marzano tomatoes, a tablespoon of parsley from Keith’s Farm, 9 ounces of Rigorosa Gragnano rigatoni from Eataly Flatiron, and an ounce of Sini Fulvi Pecorino Romano D.O.C. from Whole Foods Market
• the wine was an Oregon (Willamette Valley) white, Chris Baker Willamette Valley Pinot Gris 2017, from Naked Wines
• remembering the day after, as I write this, that baked pasta has an association with Renaissance Italy and the Medici, it was seemly that the music we enjoyed with the meal was the album, ‘Firenze 1616’, a collection of music from the late-renaissance in Italy

This dinner may be almost the opposite of the one we enjoyed the day before.  but, while It was more Mediterranean, and certainly lighter, in several ways, it was a meal of game. For all of their suggestion of undomesticated ruggedness, neither the pork chops nor the chestnuts represented the idea of ‘game’ as much as the beautiful wild squid that dominated this entrée.

We enjoy game at least 3 or 4 times a week, thanks to the city’s maritime geography and the labors of our local fishers.

I’ve used this basic recipe for squid more than any other, rarely altering its simple outlines, but this time, with a wealth of seasoning peppers in the crisper, I just couldn’t help checking out what their input could do for a standard. I decided that while the squid doesn’t need the embellishment, a few little peppers do liven up the old standard.

• 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, quickly arranged inside, immediately sprinkled with a heaping teaspoon of super-pungent dried Sicilian oregano from Buon Italia, one small red-orange finely-chopped aji dulce pepper and one small yellow Grenada pepper, neither really hot, but both pungent and both from Eckerton Hill Farm, 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 minutes, at which time when their bodies had ballooned, removed, the squid distributed onto 2 plates and ladled with a bit of the cooking juices that had been collected and transferred to a glass sauce pitcher

• three Opalka plum tomatoes from Eckerton Hill Farm, each sliced in half and placed face down on a plate which had been spread with sea salt and black pepper, their surfaces dried somewhat with a paper towel before placed inside a hot grill pan, not disturbed for 2 or 3 minutes, then turned over for another  minute, finished on the plates with a bit of olive oil and a few drops of balsamic vinegar

• Betsey Ryder is just one part of the awesomeness of the Union Square Greenmarket family, and phenomenon, but my face lightens up every time I see her at her stand [note: SPACE on Ryder Farm , an artists retreat funded through a hybrid of community-supported art and agriculture, means that the farm is about so much more than vegetables]; on Saturday I was able to pick up a peppery arugula from her 18th-century family farm (Ryder Farm), dressed for this meal with a good Campania olive oil (Lamparelli O.R.O., Maldon salt, freshly-ground black pepper and a little lemon juice
• slices of a sturdy She Wolf Bakery miche
• the wine was an Italian (Calabria) white, Scala, Ciro Bianco, 2017, from Flatiron Wines
• the music was Charpentier’s 1682 pastoraletta, ‘Les plaisirs de Versailles’, performed by William Christie and Les Arts Florissant

It started with two paper baskets of local foraged chestnuts, the very last remaining on the farmer’s table in the Union Square Greenmarket. I had hoped to find some kind of game, or game-ish bird which they might accompany on a cool autumn evening, but then we were away for 5 days, and since my prize Asian-American hybrid nuts were getting a bit long in the tooth, I convinced myself that some very good pork chops would be able to stand in for the game I had not bagged.

I was encouraged in my illusion of a game dinner by memories from years ago of preparing and serving faux-marcassin, many times, using a white wine marinade described by Julia Child.

The process of chestnut preparation preceded everything else in assembling this meal; it began of course with roasting chestnuts over an open fire. In this case “over an open fire” meant over a perforated chestnut roasting pan above the gas flame on the top of our 1931 Magic Chef. When I was living in Providence I actually did roast chestnuts over an open wood fire on the keeping room hearth of my 1760s house.

It was great fun, and a few chestnuts exploded into the air (I may have neglected to slit those all through the outer shell beforehand) but the excitement was over in less than 10 minutes.

• two 9-ounce bone-in loin pork chops (not really very thick this time) from Flying Pig Farm, thoroughly dried, seasoned with salt, pepper, and a bit of crushed dried habanada pepper, seared quickly in a heavy enameled cast-iron pan before half of a large organic Whole Foods Market lemon was squeezed over the top (which was then left in the pan between them, cut side down), the chops placed in a 400º oven for about 13 minutes altogether (flipped halfway through, the lemon squeezed over them once again and replaced), removed from the oven and arranged on 2 plates, some of the juices that remained in the pan poured over them, some poured over the accompanying chestnuts, and the remainder transferred to a glass sauce boat
• fifteen ounces of fresh chestnuts foraged from a hybrid Asian and American tree on Keith’s Farm, above the City in Orange County, roasted inside a traditional chestnut pan on top of a gas range, sprinkled with a few drops of what was to be that night’s red dinner wine* (we had to open a fresh bottle for the purpose, so we decided to accompany the meal with a red wine rather than a white), wrapped inside an old cotton shirt, squeezed until they crackled, allowed to sit on top of the hinged cover above the range burners and oven pilot light for 5 minutes, the nutmeat then extracted from the shells and placed inside a heavy antique medium size copper pot, sprinkled with olive oil, a pinch of sea salt, a bit of freshly ground black pepper, sautéed for a few minutes, a generous number of rosemary leaves from Stokes Farm, half a cup or more of a chicken broth made with Better Than Bullion chicken base added gradually while simmering above a low to medium flame, stirring occasionally, until the chestnuts are as tender as desired (I like them a little firm) and the liquid had emulsified into a sauce, a tablespoon or so of maple syrup from Roxbury Mountain Maple Farm in the Catskills stirred in, followed by a tablespoon of chopped fennel fronds, from a bunch of flowering fennel from Lani’s Farm, arranged next to the chops on the plates, garnished with more fennel

• the head of Treviso radicchio I had picked up at the Greenmarket from Tamarack Farms was far to large to be grilled or roasted for just the 2 of us, so I stripped off 10 or 12 of the large outer leaves, washed, drained, and dried them as thoroughly as I could, tied them into 2 bundles, arranged them on a medium Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic oven pan covered them with lots of thyme branches from thyme from Keith’s Farm, seasoned the treviso generously with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, and drizzled them with a tablespoon or 2 of olive oil; they were then baked in a pre-heated 400º oven for 8 or 10 minutes or so, turned to the other cut side and returned to the oven for around 8 or 10 minutes, then arranged on the plates and drizzled with a very small amount of balsamic vinegar
• *the wine was a French (Burgundy) red, Bourgogne Rouge, Dom. des Meix Poron 2015, from Astor Wines

• the music was our third eighteenth-century Olimpiade in almost as few days, Josef Myslivecek’s 1778 opera, ‘L’olimpiade’, performed by Oliver Dohnányi  directing the Bologna Teatro Comunale Orchestra and the Bologna Teatro Comunale Chorus

The only thing even slightly exceptional about this version of our regular Sunday bacon and eggs breakfasts that I can think to mention is the fact that everything on the plate was fresh, with the exception of the salt, pepper, and capers (they arrived after the photo was taken). There were no other dry spices, and no dry herbs.

• the ingredients were eggs from pastured Americauna chickens and thick bacon from pastured pigs, both products of Millport Dairy Farm; one Opalka plum tomato from Eckerton Hill Farm; torn basil leaves (Gotham Greens Rooftop, from Whole Foods); a small finely-chopped piece of an aji dulce pepper (not really hot) from Eckerton Hill Farm; some tomato water or juices that remained from a salsa created for an earlier meal; the last of some Mediterranean organic wild capers in brine (from a Providence, Rhode Island distributor) that had been drained, dried, covered in olive oil, and served as a condiment on the side; Maldon salt, freshly-ground black pepper, scissored buds and fine fronds off of a bunch of fresh fennel from from Lani’s Farm; and toasts from 2 loaves of bread from She Wolf Bakery, a sourdough bâtard and a sturdy country bread miche with what my mother used to tell us was a baker’s hole, or, “the place where the baker slept” [the toast in the picture began as a thick slice of the miche; I had sliced it too thick to fit inside our 1934 art deco Toastmaster, and while it looks a bit like it might have been toasted at the end of a fork over an open fire, I used our ‘Camp-A-Toaster’: it was delicious, especially the dark part, which surprised me]

• the music was an oratorial composed by Carl Philipp Emmanuel Bach in Hamburg in 1768-1769, ‘Die Israeliten In Der Wüste’, Wolfgang Brunner directing Salzburger Hofmusik

When things go well in the kitchen. But not necessarily perfectly.

It was a really delicious dinner, although it wasn’t quite the dinner I had intended.

I thought it would end up looking more bright green than brown-green. I think I’ve pretty much gotten the crispy fish skin technique down, but now I have to know when to stop, or at least turn down the flame at the right time.

I’d say that the fish itself was superb, and cooked à point, which is an expression usually applied, in this country at least, only to steaks, an impreciseness which fits nicely with the meaty appearance of the bass fillets this time. Even the sauce was really tasty, in spite of having taken on a bit of an unintended brown butter effect.

In an earlier post I wrote that ‘the technique’ is from a page I found on line, ‘Perfect Seared Fish‘, written by Hank Shaw, who describes himself as a former line cook, but who is much more than that.

I didn’t have any micro sorrel or shallot blossoms this time, so I improvised a substitution for the main ingredient of the sauce: garlic scapes and celery stem and leaves, and I held the garnish. I think the decision worked out perfectly, except, maybe, for the brown part.\

• one 14-ounce striped bass fillet from Pura Vida Seafood Company, removed from the refrigerator, the thick and the thin sections each halved, salted just a little, allowed to rest at room temperature for 20 minutes, then the skin side scraped with a butter knife to remove excess moisture, both sides patted dry afterward with a paper towel, an 11-inch well-seasoned French steel pan heated above a high flame and a tablespoon, or a little more, of Mac Nut macadamia nut oil from Whole Foods Market poured into the pan, swirled to cover the bottom, and allowed to get hot, all 4 fish pieces placed skin side down inside the pan, which was immediately jiggled to be sure that the fish wasn’t sticking, the flesh side of the fillets salted, the heat turned down to medium-high, the bass pressed down lightly with a spatula for 30 to 60 seconds, to ensure that the skin browns evenly, then cooked without moving them for 3 or 4 minutes, the thinner pieces temporarily removed after only about one minute, set aside and returned before they were all to be flipped, at which moment the pan was first jiggled again, to see that the filets moved easily, the bass cooked skin side up for another minute, maybe a bit more, then removed to warm plates; the heat having been turned off before that minute was up, a tablespoon and a half of butter was now added to the pan, swirled so that it melted swiftly, followed by a generous helping of barely-blanched garlic scapes, from Berried Treasures Farm, cut into very short lengths, along with some chopped fresh celery leaves from from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, the pan stirred with a wooden spatula, the sauce immediately poured onto the 2 plates next to the fish already resting there

• twelve ounces of small red thumb fingerlings from Willow Wisp Farm, halved lengthwise, tossed with a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, a pinch of Robusto Smoked Salt from The Filling Station in the Chelsea Market, fresh winter savory leaves from Keith’s Farm, a small amount of crushed home-dried habanada pepper, arranged cut side down on a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at about 375º for 20 minutes or so, tossed around on the pan, arranged on the plates and sprinkled with chopped parsley from Keith’s Farm
• the wine was a Portugal (Dao) white, Casa de Mouraz, Dao Blanco ‘Encruzado’ 2016, from Flatiron Wines

• the day before it was Vivaldi’s run; on Friday’s Olympiade was Giovanni Battista Pergolesi’s 1735 dramma per musica, ‘L’olympiade’, Alessandro de Marchi directing the Tiroler Landestheater, Innsbruck, from the harpsichord [the earlier sections seemed pretty talky, and it took a while for me to get into it (well, it is described as a “drama with music”, and I figure no one important was expected to show up until halfway through a nearly 4-hour-long opera, especially when there was so much else to do in Rome, where it premiered]