‘Goat wings’, I’m calling them.

They had started out great.

But then they spent too much time in the oven. My estimate of the cooking time for slow-braised goat ribs was far more generous than it should have been (I was looking at a recipe for lamb, but I had goat (goats are pretty small, even when compared to lamb) and and I was too busy elsewhere to check on how they were doing.

Adding to my discomfort, as someone who really hates finger food, was the fact that there was no way I was going to be able to eat these somewhat desiccated ribs with a knife and fork.

But still, they were delicious, and then even gilded.

I included a sauce, which began with my deglazing the oven pan, and which happened just after I snapped this image following the removal of the ribs, and the rack on which they had rested, and before adding some stock. It’s amazing how small an amount of concentrated drippings it takes to produce something really rich.

At least I think I got the vegetable accompaniment right: Ribs and rutabaga seem made for each other, and this root even came with its own greens!

• a little over a pound of goat ribs (or ‘riblets’), already-separated from each other, from Lynnhaven Dairy Goat Farm, seasoned all over with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper then rubbed all over with a mix of dried herbs and spices (a pinch of both habanada and smoked Jamaican Scotch bonnet pepper; roughly a quarter teaspoon each of smoked Spanish pikante paprika; freshly ground cumin, coriander seed, and fennel seed; and a smidgen of turbanado sugar), set on a rack inside a large enameled cast iron oven pan and bake in a 300º oven for 1 hour, the heat then increased to 375º and, theoretically, the ribs cooked until browned outside, tender within, and an instant-read thermometer registered 175º, or, according to the recipe I had grabbed just before beginning dinner, about 1 hour longer [I’ll probably look for another recipe next time, since I this one and I may now have assembled some bad karma], the goat set aside while preparing a sauce: once the fat had been poured out of the pan it was placed on a burner above a medium flame and a quarter of a cup of low-sodium chicken stock added and stirred, scraping up the browned bits [shown in the picture above], the liquid poured into a small saucepan and a little more stock added, the liquid cooked over medium heat until reduced by half, a teaspoon of grainy Dijon mustard and some salt and pepper added, finished, off heat, by whisking in a teaspoon or so of cold butter, served on the plates with a garnish of micro red mustard from Windfall Farms, the sauce transferred to small bowls with small spoons to enable the diners to decide how to use it (basically, I thought this arrangement would at least reduce the stickiness involved in consuming the ‘wings’
• a little less than a pound of rutabaga from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, dried, peeled, and cut as for French fries, tossed with little more than one tablespoon of olive oil, some sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, some now-dried rosemary leaves from Chelsea WHole Foods, and a bit of crushed dried pieces of  golden/bronze habanada pepper, then spread evenly, hopefully without crowding, onto a large, seasoned, unglazed ceramic Pampered Chef oven pan and roasted at 400º for about 30 or 35 minutes, garnished with micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• the rutabaga greens that had been attached to the root (there weren’t many, but, as they were from a form of turnip, they were terrific), washed, drained, chopped roughly, and wilted inside a small antique copper pot in olive oil along with a single ‘music’ or ‘strong neck’ garlic clove from Windfall Farms which had been lightly-browned in the oil first
• the wine was a Portuguese (Bairrada) red, Beira ‘FP’ Baga, Filipa Pato 2017, from Astor Wines
• the music was Bruckner’s eighth Symphony, Pierre Boulez conducting the Vienna Philharmonic

There were many possible choices at the fishers’ stall on Monday, but the swordfish looked really fantastic.

• two beautiful swordfish steak halves from American Seafood Company in the Union Square Greenmarket, marinated for about 45 minutes, turning once, in a mixture of a few tablespoons of olive oil, more than a teaspoon of a fresh tarragon from Flatiron Eataly, a bit of peperoncino Calabresi secchia from Buon Italia, a small piece of a home-dried habanada pepper, plus the chopped white sections of 2 thin Japanese scallions from Norwich Meadows Farm, after which the swordfish was drained, both sides covered with a coating of homemade dried breadcrumbs, pan-grilled over medium-high heat for 3 or 4 minutes on each side, or until not quite fully cooked to the center, removed from the pan and arranged on 2 plates, sprinkled with a little Maldon salt, some of the chopped green section of the scallions, drizzled with a bit of juice from a Whole Foods Market organic lemon, a few drops of olive oil poured over the top, and garnished with, I think, micro red Russian kale from Windfall Farms
• six Maine cherry ‘cocktail’ tomatoes from Chelsea Whole Foods, slow-roasted inside a small antique tin rolled-edge oven pan with a little olive oil, a generous amount of the dried Sicilian oregano, and 4 slightly-smashed cloves of music garlic
• one generous bunch of komatsuna, a Japanese mustard spinach, washed and drained several times, cut into 2-inch sections, wilted inside a large vintage copper pot in which 2 cloves of Windfall Farms’ ‘music garlic’ had first been softened in a couple tablespoons of olive oil, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, drizzled with lemon juice and olive oil from Lani’s Farm
• the wine was a Spanish (Rías Baixas), Albariño ‘Xión’, Bodegas y Viñedos Attis 2017, from Astor Wines
• the music was André Modeste Grétry’s 1784 opera, ‘La Caravane Du Caire’,  Marc Minkowski conducting the Ricercar Academy and the Namur Chamber Choir 

This is a pretty familiar entrée for us, but we never get tired of it.

The greens were a little novel, but they made for a side dish almost as plain as one could be. Although I’ve served it even more simply, not introducing it to any heat, I thought that this time it would be better to move it, however briefly, into a warm pan.

• twelve or 14 ounces of scrubbed, dried, and thinly sliced Natasha potatoes from Phillips Farms, arranged, overlapping, on the bottom of a glazed earthenware oven pan covered with 3 tablespoons, or slightly more, of a good Trader Joe’s Italian Reserve extra virgin olive oil, seasoned with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, a pinch of an Eckerton Hill Farm crushed dried hickory smoked Jamaican Scotch bonnet pepper, and 10 fresh whole get Italian bay leaves from Buon Italia scattered on top, and then more oil (another 2 tablespoons or so) poured on top, the pan placed inside a 400º oven for about 20 minutes, turning it back to front halfway through, by which time the potatoes should have begun to brown, then two thirds of a cup of pitted Sicilian black oil-cured olives from Buon Italia [fewer olives would definitely not impoverish the flavors of the entrée, and I think I’ll try for that the next time) were scattered about them, and 2 monkfish tails (17 ounces) from P.E. & D.D. Seafood placed on top of everything, the fish sprinkled with salt and pepper and the pan returned to the oven for another 10 or 12 minutes more, or until the monkfish was tender but not overcooked, arranged on the plates garnished with a little micro red Russian kale from Windfall Farms 
• a handful of very beautiful and absolutely delicious ‘frizzy mustard’ greens from Norwich Meadows Farm, only barely heated in a little olive oil in which 2 halved cloves of ‘music garlic’ from Windfall Farms had been allowed to sweat a bit, seasoned with salt and pepper and finished on the plates with a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a Portuguese (Beira) white, Quinta do Cardo White ‘Companhia das Quintas’ 2016, from Astor Wines

There was a cheese course

 

• the music throughout was the third act of Wagner’s ‘Parsifal’, the 1962 live Bayreuth Festival House performance, in which Hans Knappertsbusch conducts the Bayreuth Festival Orchestra and the Bayreuth Festival Chorus, with soloists Hans Hotter, Jess Thomas, Gustav Neidlinger, Irene Dalis, Niels Moller, Gerd Nienstedt, Sona Cervena, Ursula Boese, Gerhard Stolze, Georg Paskuda, Gundula Janowitz, Anja Silja, Elsa-Margrete Gardelli , Martti Talvela, George London, Rita Bartos, and Dorothea Siebert

The antipasto was ‘prepared food’ (prepared by the wife of our local fisherman), with the addition of a bit of greens, and the locally-made pasta that followed only needed a little working, and that too included a bit of greenery, as local as that which had accompanied the sseafood salad.

• eight ounces of a squid and conch salad (including olive oil, parsley, red pepper, lemon juice) from P.E. & D.D. Seafood in the Union Square Greenmarket, made by Dolores Karlin, the wife of Phil Karlin, the fisherman himself, arranged on a thin bed of arugula from Norwich Meadows Farm, the seasoning of the salad adjusted, including a drizzle of juice from a Chelsea While Foods Market organic lemon
• leaves of peppery arugula from Norwich Meadows Farm, dressed with a good olive oil, sea salt, freshly ground black pepper, and a drizzle lemon juice, arranged as a bed for the salad
• slices of a superb 100% whole wheat bread from the bakery at Runner & Stone

Because both courses were so easily assembled, the water for the pasta could be heated while we were still enjoying the seafood salad, meaning there was no serious interruption before moving on the pasta.

• a few handfuls of roughly cut purple mustard greens from Lani’s Farm, stirred into a little olive oil inside a large vintage copper pot in which 2 small cloves of sliced ‘music garlic’ from Windfall Farms had been allowed to sweat, seasoned with salt and pepper, and set aside while 8 ounces of a very good Agricola del Sole orecciette di grana arso from Flatiron Eataly had been cooked al dente, the pasta then drained, transferred into the pot with the garlic and greens, and seasoned with salt, pepper, and a pinch of an Eckerton Hill Farm crushed dried hickory smoked Jamaican Scotch bonnet pepper, some of the pasta cooking water added and the mix stirred over a high lame until the liquid had emulsified, then arranged inside shallow bowls and served tossed with some grated Sini Fulvi Pecorino Romano D.O.C. from the Chelsea Whole Foods Market, finishing with a drizzle of olive oil around the edges

 

• the wine throughout the meal was an Italian (Sicily) white, Corvo Bianco 2017, from Philippe Wines
• the music throughout was a recording of Berlioz’s 1846 légende dramatique, ‘La Damnation De Faust’, Kent Nagano conducting the Lyon Opera Orchestra and the Lyon Opera Chorus, with Thomas Moser, Susan Graham, Frédéric Caton, and José van Dam

Ooh.

I picked this entrée because of the weather forecast.

I thought we’d be enjoying 3 hours of their awesome cooking smells in addition to relishing the consumption of these two very rich, slowly-braised locally-sourced lamb shanks, together with the considerable delight of being snug inside during an early March snow storm.

The snow turned out to be a no-show, but the other parts were even better than I had anticipated.

The recipe is from the first of the terrific cookbooks by Gray and Rogers, ‘Rogers Gray Italian Country Cook Book’, and its both simple to follow and simply delicious.

I’ve normally served lamb shanks with polenta, but I love boiled German potato dumplings as much as I love boiled cornmeal. I had a package of 4 Kartoffelklöße in the freezer. Yeah, sure, I didn’t make them myself, but they really are terrific, and they’re incredibly easy to serve; remembering to defrost the package in time was the most difficult part of their preparation.

• with an oven turned on and set to 300º, two 8 or 9-ounce lamb shanks from Walter Adam‘s Shannon Brook Farm stall in the Union Square Greenmarket, dusted with a local Union Square Greenmarket-purchased whole wheat flour from The Blew family of Oak Grove Plantation in Pittstown, N.J., the flour having been seasoned with plenty of sea salt and fresh-ground black pepper, browned on all sides inside an oval, heavy, enameled cast iron pot, one with a snug lid, the shanks removed, the heat lowered and 2 peeled and finely-sliced sliced red onions from Norwich Meadows Farm added and cooked for about 10 minutes, or until softened and light brown, followed by 2 peeled and chopped cloves of Windfall Farms’ ‘music garlic’ and a few tablespoons of chopped fresh rosemary leaves from Trader Joe’s, all cooked for a couple of minutes, the heat raised and one fourth of a cup of balsamic vinegar and a third of a cup of red wine added, the liquids reduced over a few minutes until almost able to coat a spoon, the shanks now returned to the pot and the heat reduced, its contents covered with a piece of moistened parchment paper cut to fit its oval shape and the lid placed on, the pot set inside the oven, whose heat was now lowered to 275, or even 250, cooked until the meat is very tender (checking the meat every 20-25 minutes, adding more wine if necessary, each time basting it with a brush, turning the meat at least once, then finally checking for doneness after 2 hours, although 30 more minutes than that will likely be better (while they cooked, the shanks checked from time to time, using a brush to baste with the juices and adding more wine if the shanks look too dry, arranged on the plates next to some warm potato dumplings, the sauce drizzled on both meat and potatoes (the dumplings described below)

• one defrosted package of 4 imported German-made Melle’s Best Kartoffelklöße from the Schaller & Weber store, the potato dumplings boiled for 12 minutes in a pot of salted water, then drained and arranged on the plates, drizzled with some of the sauce

• purple mustard greens from Lani’s Farm, stirred into a little olive oil inside a large vintage copper pot in which 2 small cloves of sliced ‘music garlic’ from Windfall Farms had been allowed to sweat, seasoned with salt and pepper, finished on the plates with a drizzle of olive oil
• thick slices of a really, really delicious 100% whole wheat bread from the bakery at Runner & Stone, (they were invited to give the potato dumplings a hand with the rich sauce)
• the wine was a Greek (Eastern Macedonia and Thrace/Drama) white, En Oeno 2010 (Cabernet Sauvignon 65% / Merlot 30% / Cabernet Franc 5%), from Foragers Market Wine
• the music was what has sometimes been described as the greatest recording of all times, the 1962 live Bayreuth Festival House performance of Wagner’s 1877-1882 opera, ‘Parsifal’, in which Hans Knappertsbusch conducts the Bayreuth Festival Orchestra and the Bayreuth Festival Chorus, with soloists Hans Hotter, Jess Thomas, Gustav Neidlinger, Irene Dalis, Niels Moller, Gerd Nienstedt, Sona Cervena, Ursula Boese, Gerhard Stolze, Georg Paskuda, Gundula Janowitz, Anja Silja, Elsa-Margrete Gardelli , Martti Talvela, George London, Rita Bartos, and Dorothea Siebert [we could only listen to the first 2 of 3 acts; we will pick up the rest on Monday]

 

[the image of the package of Kartoffelklöße is from the Melle’s Best site]

There was mustard.

But so much more.

I found the haddock first (I almost always head for the fish stands before looking at anything else), and then, while looking for vegetables, I spotted a farmer new to the Union Square Greenmarket: She was offering a beautiful selection of mushrooms, along with 5 different sizes of eggs produced by her free range chickens in Vineland, New Jersey [I just found this 1987 New York Times article on the history of Jewish chicken farming in New Jersey].

I now had my entrée secured, and I had already decided which greens I’d be serving to accompany it.

The preparation itself began with the mushrooms and finished with the fish; the simple operation of braising the mustards somehow found its way in the middle.

• two tablespoons of olive oil heated inside a very thick-walled tin-lined copper 14-inch oval sauté pan over medium-high heat until barely starting to smoke, 6 or 7 ounces of sliced Lion’s mane, aka pom pom, mushrooms from Gail’s Farm, in Vineland, New Jersey tossed in, seasoned with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and a pinch of a combination of 2 peppers (crushed home-dried light-colored habanada purchased fresh from Norwich Meadows Farm, and hickory-smoked Jamaican Scotch bonnet from Eckerton Hill Farm, cooked, stirring occasionally, until well browned, or 3 to 4 minutes, transferred to warmed plates (in a warm oven, door ajar), and set aside, the pan wiped dry, a tablespoon of olive oil added, the flame turned up to medium-high and, once the oil was shimmering, the mushrooms replaced by one 16-ounce haddock fillet from P.E. & D.D. Seafood that had been halved crosswise and seasoned with salt and pepper, cooked, flesh sides down, without moving until well browned, or about 3 minutes, carefully flipped over and cooked on the skin sides until the haddock was just cooked through, or about 2 minutes longer, transferred to the plates next to the mushrooms, while one cup of good vegetable stock was added to the same pan and cooked over high heat until reduced by half, the pan removed from the flame and 2 tablespoons of butter and 2 tablespoons of Chelsea Whole Foods Market organic lemon were stirred in, the sauce seasoned to taste with salt and pepper and poured over both the fish and the mushrooms, finished with a garnish of micro red mustard from windfall farms, in a line dividing haddock and pompoms, with lemon wedges served on the side [I mostly used this Serious Eats recipe]

• one bunch of mizuna (aka kyona, Japanese mustard greens, or spider mustard) from Norwich Meadows farm, wilted in a little olive oil in which 2 halved cloves of ‘music garlic’ from Windfall Farms had first been allowed to sweat and begin to color, the greens seasoned with salt and pepper, arranged on the plates and a little more olive oil drizzled on top
• the wine was a French (Southwest) white, with semillon, sauvignon blanc, and sauvignon gris grapes, Chateau Lassolle (Stephanie Roussel) Triple S 2014, from Copake Wine Works
• the music was a recording of the 2008 Stadttheater Bern performance of Per Nørgård’s 1932 opera, ‘Der göttliche Tivoli (The Divine Circus)’; the opera portrays the schizophrenic Swiss artist Adolf Wölfli (1864-1930)

No, you’re not seeing double. Only a few days ago we had begun a different meal with an antipasto using almost all the same ingredients as those seen above, so it was probably a good thing that I led that post with the Marx Brothers rather than this wonderful salume.

The only variation, and because of the repeat it was a conscious one, was in the greens that accompanied what my parents always called “cold cuts.”

• less than 2 ounces of Giorgio’s coppa dolce from Flatiron Eataly, drizzled with a bit of Trader Joe’s unfiltered Italian Reserve extra virgin olive oil
• a small handful of Windfall Farms’ crunchy sunflower sprouts, also drizzled with a little oil
• slices of the excellent ‘table bread’ from Philadelphia’s Lost Bread CO ((half organic bread flour, half fresh milled whole grain wheat, spelt, rye, malted barley, plus water and salt)

I knew I was going to follow the coppa with a pasta course, but at first I was totally at sea about what kind it would be. It didn’t help that I had an embarrassment of riches with all the ingredients I had on hand. Then I remembered that I still had a small container in the refrigerator with stems from the delicious purple-green kale I had served the day before this.

After that, and deciding on a full, earthy-flavored local pasta, I just layered a few things around it and we ended up with the bowl in the picture above.

• eight ounces of Sfoglini ‘Whole Grain Reginetti’, cooked only barely al dente, added to a vintage large copper pot in which a sauce had been prepared heating a sliced medium ‘yellow shallot’ from Windfall Farms and the chopped stem sections of a few small celery stalks from Philipps Farms in a little olive oil over a medium flame until both had softened and become fragrant, adding the braised handful of stems of of some delicious, sweet, slightly purple flat kale from Norwich Meadows Farm that had not been cooked with the leaves when they were prepared on Friday night, a dozen pitted Gaeta olives from Buon Italia in the Chelsea Market, and a pinch of a crushed (dried) hickory-smoked Jamaican Scotch bonnet pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, generously seasoned with freshly-ground black pepper, the mix stirred over high heat along with almost 3 quarters of a cup of reserved pasta water for a minute or so, or until the liquid had emulsified, some of the celery stalks’ roughly-chopped leaves mixed in and the pasta arranged inside shallow bowls, sprinkled with some homemade bread crumbs browned a little in a bit of olive oil, garnished with some more kale, this time some wispy micro red Russian kale from Windfall Farms, and finished with a little olive oil drizzled around the edges

 

• the wine throughout the meal was an Italian (Sicily) red, Corvo Rosso 2016, (Nerello Mascalese and Nero d’Avola grapes), from Philippe Wines
• the music throughout was from Louis Andriessen’s incredible “film opera”, ‘La Commedia’

There was chicken in the pot last night. Well, parts of chicken.

As I tweeted last night, near the end of this delicious simple meal, that doesn’t happen here very often, and, repeating something else I wrote, meals with chicken as good as this make me question my judgment.

I worked with the simple outlines of a Mark Bittman ‘recipe’ I’d used at least once before.

• four 6-ounce chicken thighs, the Cascun Farms‘ Cornish Cross breed, from Eataly Flatiron, rinsed, patted dry, and seasoned with sea salt, freshly ground black pepper, and a pinch or 2 of crushed dried habanada pepper, browned well on both sides in two tablespoons or so of Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’ inside a heavy antique high-sided copper pot, the pot covered and cooked over medium-low heat, turning occasionally, until the internal temperature was 155-165 degrees, or the juices run clear, this time taking slightly less than 15 minutes, transferred to plates resting inside my 1934 Magic Chef at the ‘slow oven’ setting, the door wedged ajar with the bamboo toast tongs that rest next to it, one minced ‘yellow shallot’ from Norwich Meadows Farm and about a fourth of a cup of white wine introduced to the pot, the heat raised to medium high and the liquid reduced until it had become a sauce, then more than a dozen chopped tarragon leaves from Flatiron Eataly added and stirred in, the sauce transferred to a glass sauce boat, from which some of it was poured over the chicken

• one bunch of sweet, absolutely delicious, slightly purple flat kale from Norwich Meadows Farm wilted inside a large enameled cast iron pot in a little olive oil in which 2 halved and slightly bruised cloves of Windfall Farms ‘music’ garlic had first been allowed to sweat and begin to brown, the greens seasoned with salt, pepper, and a little more olive oil
• slices of ‘table bread’ from Lost Bread Company

There was a cheese course.