nightshades, with a little fish on the side

 

The meal ended up a great mix of flavors (and colors, clearly) but it was almost entirely fortuitous, to the extent that I feel my role was only to only to guide it into place.

I had bought the tuna in the morning, and the red grape tomatoes in the picture, far more than are shown here.  I expected to use the tuna that night, but not the tomatoes, since I already had some golden cherry tomatoes ripening on the windowsill.

Once I started assembling the meal I realized that 10 tiny cherry tomatoes wouldn’t even be enough for a proper garnish, so I added some of my red grape purchase to the bowl where I had put them.  Although mostly accidental, the mix turned out to be inspired; they made a great team.

The choice of another vegetable was almost a tossup, the decision ultimately resting on deciding what I already had should be used first, but at the same time would go well with the tuna.

I had been attracted to the eggplant on a Greenmarket visit two days earlier.  These four happened to be the very last of the larger examples remaining in the plastic pan in the farm stall. I thought the sign had said ‘Fairy eggplants’, although I should have known that that wasn’t what they were.   But I was in a hurry, so I just paid for them and headed home.

They turned out to be absolutely delicious, at least as good as any other type I’ve cooked, and my experience with eggplant has always been very, very good.  It was only after dinner that I took the time to investigate on line what they really were.  I found that they were Thai eggplant, of which, I’m not surprised, there are many varieties.

Supposedly Thai eggplant becomes increasingly bitter as it ages.  These had obviously not aged.

I love the vegetables.

I had already washed and dried a little arugula, which I thought I would somehow marry with the golden tomatoes, but I realized that didn’t sound promising, and it was about then that I decided to marry the two different tomatoes.

The arugula was good enough to stand on its own, so I put it into bowls on the side, by itself, very simply dressed.

• one tuna steak from Blue Moon Fish Company, divided into two, rubbed with a mixture of dry fennel seed and one dried peperoncino, ground together, additionally seasoned with salt and pepper, then pan-grilled for only a little more than a minute or so on each side, finished with a good squeeze of lemon and a drizzle of olive oil
• four small Thai eggplants from Lani’s Farm, halved, seasoned by being placed face-down in a shallow bowl containing a mix chopped fresh oregano from Rise & Root Farm, salt, pepper, and olive oil, then rolled in the marinade, pan grilled until tender, basting occasionally
• a mix of golden cherry tomatoes from Berried Treasures and grape tomatoes from Kernan Farms (in Southern New Jersey), halved, rolled in olive oil, salt, pepper, a tiny drizzle of white balsamic, and chopped tarragon from Keith’s Farm
• arugula from Lani’s Farm, washed, dried, torn, dressed with good olive oil, salt, pepper, and a small drizzle of organic lemon
• the wine was an Italian (Campania) white, Fiano Taburno Sannio 2014, purchased at Flatiron Wines & Spirits
• the music was Paula Matthusen’s ‘Pieces for People’

This can be put onto the table in half an hour; no exaggeration. Unable to give any more time than that to preparing dinner, I did just that two nights ago.

You have to have all the ingredients, or similar ingredients, perhaps even more ingredients, already in your kitchen.  Although it may not be really necessary, since the pasta cooks in just 2-3 minutes, it helps to be able to get fresh cold water from the tap without having to let it run first.  [As we don’t have that, and I suspect it’s because we’re the only people in our apartment line of who use their kitchen, to minimize my preparation time, I drew water for the pasta pot earlier in the evening]

• ‘caccio e pepe’ ravioli from Eataly, finished in a pan with olive oil, more black pepper, part of one whole peperoncini from Buon Italia, crushed, some of the reserved pasta water added and emulsified over low heat, slices of one orange heirloom tomato from Norwich Meadows Farm introduced, gently tossed with the pasta, the mix placed in two bowls, chopped oregano from Rise & Root Farm sprinkled over the top (the photo was snapped before I had drizzled a bit of more olive oil on the dish)
• the wine was a California (Central Valley) white, JC van Staden Pinot Grigio 2014
• the music was ‘Monk Mix (CD1): remixes and Interpretations of Music by Meredith Monk‘

not an Advent wreath, but it does look festive; probably tastes much better

 

For years I had been trying very hard to find a way to use salsify.  The vegetable had long fascinated me, at least partly for its homeliness. The fact that I could find almost nothing in the way of a recipe in any of my books or files didn’t help.  It also didn’t help that I was unaware that ‘oyster plant’ was another name for the same vegetable, meaning that it was actually under my nose all along.

I had often seen black salsify in the Greenmarket, but the stalks always seemed to be too narrow to deal with easily if you aren’t just going to add it to a soup or a stew, especially since the vegetable has to be peeled.

Then last week, when I spotted this beautiful row of white salsify displayed in the Greenmarket by one of my favorite farms, I finally decided to take some home.  I first picked up five or six, put them in a bag, and had already exchanged some banter about the root before I asked how much they would cost.  I heard, “20 dollars a pound”, and thought it was a part of the banter.  It wasn’t.

I thought, wow, vegetables sure have come a long way since the days when they only grew (and often died) inside supermarkets, and apparently I’m not the only one who esteems them above meat today.  I returned all but one stalk to the row where I had seen it, but three days later I returned for one more.  I still didn’t know what I would do with the vegetable, but I didn’t think I wanted to be caught short when I did.

Now I wish I had bought four.

Last night, starting too late as usual, but interested in marrying the scallops with the salsify, I looked on line once again, I found a mere sketch of an attractive recipe, but one which I decided I could work with, and it could put a meal on the table in about an hour.

The original recipe is so simple it seems like it’s intended as only a framework for others to play with.  In my version there were some serious liberties taken, one of which included a substitute for the watercress.  I didn’t have watercress, but I did have some extraordinarily luscious arugula. Those very fresh greens were so good that I ended up using a reckless amount, which meant I had to place it next to the scallops and salsify, not on them;  I decided on a circle – only for the geometric efficiency of course.

Other changes included dressing the arugula with good oil, salt, crushed pepper, and a drizzle of organic lemon.  I also Pan grilled the scallops, as I do usually, and, especially because they were fairly small already, I did not halve them.  I parboiled the thinly-sliced salsify, then sautéed it, but next time I’ll simply slice it into ¼-inch segments and caramelize them in butter. The next time I will also try for more salsify, and larger scallops (I won’t halve them), and whatever green (or ‘red’) I use will be in a smaller amount, and sprinkled over the salsify (but maybe not the shellfish).

I want to ask everyone out there reading this to please ask for salsify when you’re in your local greenmarket.  It’s a delicious vegetable, and its preparation is absolutely nothing to be afraid of, but It’s pretty expensive right now, and I can only think it has something to do with rarity.

• two handsome salsify roots from John D. Madura Farm, scrubbed, peeled, cut into thin slices, blanched, drained, and dried on paper towels, sautéed in olive oil until the slices began to turn brown, then seasoned with salt and ‘India Special Extra Bold’ Tellicherry peppercorns, and spread onto the center of two plates, topped with 14 small scallops (nine ounces) which had been washed, rinsed and dried, seasoned with salt and the same ‘special’ peppercorns, pan grilled, turning once, finished with a squeeze of lemon juice and drizzled with olive oil
• very fresh, very, very sweet and tasty young arugula from Lani’s Farm, washed, dried, and spread around the circumference of the plates, drizled with a little good olive oil, salt, pepper, and a squeeze of lemon juice
• the wine was a California (Clarksburg) white, Akiyoshi Reserve Chardonnay Clarksburg 2014
• the music was Michel van der Aa’s Violin Concerto

It was the second time I had cooked this delicious simple dish, an adaptation of the one found on this site.  The extraordinary complexity of flavors, considering the minimal list of ingredients, was still a surprise; it was just as good this time around, and just about impossible to be satisfied with just one serving.  We didn’t have a cheese course.

• two large cloves of garlic from Norwich Meadows Farm, sliced thinly, heated in a deep pan over medium-high flame, along with one finely-chopped not-so-hot Cayenne thin red pepper (with the seeds this time) from Oak Grove Plantation, until the garlic was almost starting to color, pieces of boned smoked eel from Blue Moon Fish Company added and tossed until warmed through, half of some savory pangrattato* prepared a little earlier mixed in and combined, the cooked and drained pasta (18 ounces of Setaro spaghetti chitarra from Buon Italia), added to the pan, tossed with the eel and pangratto and stirred over low heat for a couple of minutes, adding about a cup of the reserved pasta water while doing so, served in low bowls, where it was sprinkled with more pangratto and finished with ‘scissored’ chives (Goodness Garden, New Hampton, NY) from Union Market

*The preparation of the pangratto involved adding about a third of a cup of homemade breadcrumbs to about a fourth of a cup of olive oil in which two more thinly-sliced Norwich Meadows Farm garlic cloves and 3 anchovies from Buon Italia had been heated for a short while, stirring for 4-5 minutes, the mixture then drained on paper toweling and brought to room temperature

• the wine was an Italian (Sicily) white, Corvo Insolia 2013 from Philippe Wine in Chelsea, which is located about 50 yards from our front door
• the music was that of Germaine Tailleferre, Chamber Music & Piano Music, the only female member of the group of French composers known as ‘Les Six‘; the music is terrific, and her story is very much of the twentieth century

We rarely have anything but a pretty basic breakfast, even on weekends, probably because we already get up so late that we don’t want to put off the day any more than we would already have by then. But sometimes a breakfast can’t really be thought of as ‘putting off the day’.  This one, of bacon, eggs, toast, and a few trimmings, was very much part of our day this past Sunday, and it turned out to be a super one (breakfast and day).  Besides, we started our Sunday so late that we didn’t have to steal from it later in the afternoon with a proper lunch, even if we suspected we would not start to eat dinner until after ten o’clock.

I love eggs, at any time of the day, and in any form, but I usually just can’t leave them alone without some device – or devices.  In this case it meant herbs and spices, some only a little more exotic than others.

The herbs inside the yellow cup in the picture above were a mix of parsley from John D. Madura Farm, thyme from Phillips Farm, oregano from Rise & Root Farm, plus tarragon and winter savory, both from Stokes Farm.  The spice in the red one was some crushed very complex-flavored and highly-pungent ‘India Special Extra Bold’ Tellicherry peppercorns (“Special refers to longer maturation on the vine, the extra bold refers to larger size.”) by Penzeys Spices.  After the picture was taken I also included a container of whole peperoncini from Buon Italia, crushed.

The salt was Maldon.

Both the eggs and the bacon (thick, country-style) were from Millport Dairy, in the Union Square Greenmarket, and the European-style (more butter fat) butter was ‘Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter, Unsalted’, with 12g (18%) total fat, from Westside Market on Seventh Avenue.

The toast originated as part of a loaf of 7-grain bread from Eataly.

After preparing the condiments, the first thing I did was to heat the bacon very slowly in an enormous cast iron pan, which meant that less fat had accumulated after it had been cooked, and I fried the eggs in most of what had remained, reserving the rest for use in another meal. Barry, the toastmaster, began his duties just as I removed the bacon from the pan.

One tradition however that we observe every Sunday is starting off the day with music that is somehow ‘Sunday-ish’, at least in the Christian tradition. It’s a tradition from which each of us fully emerged, alive, thank goodness, long ago.  The choice of this music is made not out of nostalgia, but rather for the opportunity to listen to a part of the Western world’s great musical canon which is insufficiently represented in concert, and to listen to it in [at least a part of] the context for which it was originally written.

For me, the earliest form of this tradition began in Europe in 1961, when I first lived outside the U.S. and had ready access to live classical music performance, churches included.  In Munich, two years later, now a fully-confirmed atheist, I often went on Sundays with one or more friends to listen to music performed inside one of the shiny-new recently-restored great Munich churches, my aesthetic senses now proudly – and perhaps sadly – free of the veil of religious devotion (although understanding the powerful symbiosis of the two).  There we could listen to singers, a chorus, and a real orchestra performing some of the world’s most glorious (although even then becoming increasingly esoteric) music inside the kind of great spaces for which it was intended.  This sort of experience is not easily found in New York City today (and likely never was); when it is, there is usually an admission price involved.

Yesterday at home, with a bow to Beirut and to Paris, we played a recording of Gabriel Fauré’s ‘Requiem’.

seconds after the shrimp were placed in a seasoned 10-pound cast iron pan

 

With the arrival of Eco Shrimp Garden to the Friday Union Square Greenmarket, I now can buy fish on a single day which can serve as meals for two consecutive days. The very fresh decapoda, pulled out of water the same day they are sold, can keep for the next (actually, and even beyond, I understand) without any taste sacrifice.  This means that we are able to enjoy that night whatever I select from the Pura Vida stand, and still enjoy a seafood meal the next, even if I can’t make it to Union Square Saturday.

I wish I could claim it as my own, but the excellent recipe I used came from Mark Bittman; it was in a feature article inside the FOOD section of the New York Times, ‘The Pantry Made Me Do It: Shrimp, Simply Spanish‘.  The print version included the simple recipe text; unfortunately the link above only includes a four-minute-plus video, and in it Bittman ends up adding tomato, which I did not do.

This  was more than a recipe however. In his piece Bittman’s describes his attitude toward stocking his kitchen, and making do – or, in his case, much more than just making do – with what is on hand.  It’s an attitude to which I have aspired for a long time, and which I seem to be gradually obtaining. Next there was my happy discovery that I actually had on hand last night every ingredient he used in the recipe with which he illustrated his point. I was thinking, ‘who has a dried chipotle pepper, saffron, and good cumin seed together in the kitchen at the same time?’  Maybe I really am on my way to chef-hood.

 

• one teaspoon of chopped garlic from Norwich Meadows Farm, heated inside a (13 1/2″) cast iron pan over a very low flame until the garlic had colored nicely, followed by the addition of a pinch of saffron, one whole chipotle pepper from Northshire Farm (do not squish) and a teaspoon of freshly-ground cumin seed, all of it stirred for a minute or two, then three-quarters of a pound of Hudson Valley farmed shrimp from Eco Shrimp Garden added, seasoned with salt and pepper, the heat brought up a bit, and the shrimp cooked until firm, turned once or twice in the meantime, served with a squeeze of lemon, and garnished with parsley from John D. Madura Farm
• yellow pole beans from Norwich Meadows Farm, blanched, reheated later in a bit of olive oil, in which thin slices of a small shallot had been warmed, then seasoned with salt and pepper and finished with chopped winter savory from Stokes Farm and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a Spanish white, Naia D.O. Rueda 2014, from Verdejo old vines
• the music was Germaine Tailleferre, chamber and piano music

cute spuds

 

No, not all white fish tastes the same.  Like us, the Tilefish loves crab and lobster, which may help to explain why we love Tilefish.  But, contrary to what some people say or write about it, while the flesh is lean, tender and particularly sweet, no one will mistake it for crab or lobster;  more like cod that’s gone to heaven.

The vegetables accompanying the fish included a beautiful, very tender bouquet of collards I had bought a few days before, plus one ‘fluke’: ten baby ‘Papa Chaucha’, pressed into my hand that afternoon by one of my favorite farmers; both were Greenmarket finds of course. They were delicious; earthy and creamy, I’m definitely going back for more next week.

NOTE: ‘Papa Chaucha’ [‘ancient potato’] is a name which I believe covers all of the ancient breeds of potato, originally found all over Central and South America, although the Andes may be a more specific geography for these particular [cultivars?].  Franca’s Berried Treasures stall sign described her ‘Papa Chaucha’ (she had both these very small examples, and some larger) as Ecuadorean, added that the seed was given to her by one of the people who works with Dave Tifford of Fantastic Gardens of Long Island on one of his visits, and asked her customers for feedback.

• the basic Tilefish recipe, which I’ve used on more than one occasion, is this one from Melissa Clark, in which she generously suggests using any number of various herbs and several allium possibilities;  I used one 16-ounce tilefish fillet from Pura Vida, halved, well-dried, seasoned, placed it in several tablespoons of butter melted inside my new/old copper gratin pan, basted it with sliced young leeks from Ryder Farm (rather than scallions specified in the recipe, which I did not have) and, in the end, more than half a dozen different of the fresh herbs I did have (all from Greenmarket farmers), and finished with lemon juice
• a very few tiny ‘Papa Chaucha’ from Berried Treasures, boiled in salted water in a small pot, drained, dried in the same, still-warm pot, seasoned with salt and pepper, and rolled in butter
• some sweet, tender collard greens from Norwich Meadows Farm, cut as a rough chiffonade, then braised in a heavy pot in which slightly-crushed garlic from Phillips Farm had first been heated in some olive oil
• the wine was an Oregon white, A to Z Oregon Chardonnay 2013 (note that the link is to a 2014 vintage)
• the music was Modest Mussorgsky, ‘Boris Godounov’, Valery Gergiev conducting the Kirov Theater Orchestera and the Kirov Chorus (all of it)

something to keep up one’s sleeve, for emergencies, whether or not the emergencies involve unexpected guests

 

It’s always the same simple recipe, worked by the same cook, and in the same kitchen, but it turns out a little differently each time, and not just in its appearance.

I have to assume the source of most, it not all of the ingredients was different, but this encounter with a very basic recipe differed significantly from an earlier preparation, and also from any of the many other times we’ve enjoyed it over the years.  I usually turn to this Mark Bittman minimal ‘quick meal’ after we’ve been out until quite late, when there’s no time to prepare anything more ambitious. Note that there are others, equally as handy.

We never get tired of it.  It’s probably a little like the kind of reanimation that comes upon hearing a familiar piece of music, perhaps a favorite, in different performances, even if the principle players might remain the same.

• Bittman’s instructions for this meal, as included in his, “Summer Express: 101 Simple Meals Ready in 10 Minutes or Less”, read, “Put a large can of chickpeas and their liquid in a medium saucepan. Add some sherry, along with olive oil, plenty of minced garlic, smoked pimentón (I used ‘pikant’ this time) and chopped Spanish chorizo.”  (I used Olé ‘Spanish Style Dry Cured Paprika Chorizo, made in the U.S., from Brooklyn Fare, on Schermerhorn Street, which we had opicked up oin the way home from a performance one block away, and garlic from Norwich Meadows Farm)
• the wine was a Spanish (Murcia) red, Olivares Altos De la Hoya Monastrell 2012
• the music was the Piano Concerto No 3 of Nikos Skalkottas

It’s very hard for me to imagine anyone dreaming up this recipe for the first time.  It wouldn’t seem to be a natural approach for preparing any fish, but its author, Mark Bittman, says, “The recipe can be finished with almost any firm fish fillet.”   Here we have a piece, or pieces, of a familiar, undramatic white fish fillet, and slices of white potato, paired with tons of bay leaves and almost a cup of the strongest, most bitter black olives around. The whole idea seems so counter-intuitive, and yet, except for approaches that are even more simple, like this one, I consider it one of the best fish recipes I’ve ever come across.  It’s also one of the easiest, and nearly the most foolproof.

• Three monkfish fillets from Blue Moon Fish Company, weighing just under a total of a pound, and almost a cup of pitted black oil-cured olives, roasted on top of a bed of thinly-sliced and seasoned German Carola potatoes (yellow-fleshed, buttery) from Berried Treasures Farm which had already been roasted in the same pan, until slightly crispy, with a generous amount of olive oil and 15 or so bay leaves from Westside Market, the monkfish finished with a sprinkling of chopped bronze fennel from Norwich Meadows Farm
• a small salad of wild arugula from Lani’s Farm, dressed with good olive oil, a small squeeze of organic lemon, salt, and freshly-ground black pepper, topped with one tiny heirloom tomato, segmented, from Berried Treasures
• the wine was a French (Rhone) white, Côtes du Rhône Samorëns Ferraton Père & Fils 2013
• the music was Sibelius, Symphony No. 2, with Paavo Berglund conducting the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra, which premiered it in 1899, when it was conducted by the composer

Yes, it seem that this meal was genuinely vegan, but we only realized it after we had sat down to it (which tell us all something about our usual dining habits).  In any event, it was really, really good, and also an excellent companion to a good bottle of wine, something I would worry about if I were ever to give up all animal products.

The recipe was my own invention, representing both what I had on hand and my almost insatiable appetite for excellent artisanal pasta, also always on hand.

• two finely-sliced garlic cloves from Norwich Meadows Farm sautéed in olive oil in a deep enameled pot large enough to hold the pasta once it was cooked, followed by a tablespoon or so of dry fennel seed, heated until pungent, 2 thinly-sliced medium red onions, also from Norwich Meadows Farm, added and stirred until almost fully soft, 2 handfuls of very small ‘lunchbox’ peppers from Norwich Meadows Farm, plus 3 late-season (and therefore pretty mild) thin Cayenne red peppers from Oak Grove Plantation, each seeded, deveined, and halved or quartered and also sautéed until tender, the completed mix seasoned with salt and freshly-ground black pepper, combined in the sauce pot with cooked and drained Setaro penne rigatoni from Buon Italia (about fourteen ounces of a larger package), including some of the reserved pasta water, which was emulsified over low heat, the whole tossed with fresh chopped oregano from Rise & Root Farm
• the wine was an Italian (Tuscany) white, Villa Antinori Toscana 2013
• the music was Sibelius, Symphony No. 1, with Paavo Berglund conducting the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra, which premiered it in 1899, conducted by the composer