I didn’t know until almost the last minute whether this dinner would happen. The hot water in the building had failed at around 6 o’clock, meaning it would be impossible to work in the kitchen; it wasn’t until some time close to 10 that it was restored.

I then found myself rushing to do justice to some very fresh fish I had no desire to keep a second day, and to a vegetable accompaniment I had been looking forward to serving. I was looking at my notes from an earlier meal where I used this recipe, and in my rush to get everything going I forgot to consider the fact that these fillets were somewhat smaller (most important, thinner) than the flounder that had cooked then.

So the fish was delicious, as it has been in the past. It was of course not undercooked, but the remarkable thing is that I don’t think it was overcooked either. I was either very lucky, or else flounder is very forgiving when it comes to oven times. I suspect it was the former.

• four 3 and a half-ounce flounder fillets from American Seafood Company, placed inside a lightly-oiled oval tin-lined copper au gratin pan, skinned side down, the top surface spread (down the center, mostly for the aesthetic) with a mixture of one tablespoon of zest from a Whole Foods organic lemon, one teaspoon of a pungent dried Sicilian oregano from Buon Italia (it’s sold dried and still attached to the stem), one teaspoon of balsamic vinegar, three fourths of a tablespoon of olive oil, almost a teaspoon of lightly-crushed black peppercorns, a quarter to half a teaspoon of sea salt, and most of one finely-chopped large Rocambole garlic clove from Keith’s Farm, baked for just under 15 minutes in a 350º oven, removed, arranged on the plates, drizzled with some juice from the lemon which supplied the zest earlier, and garnished with chopped parsley from Alex’s Tomato Farm in the 23rd Street farmers market
• a little (wild?) red cress from Dave Harris’s Max Creek Hatchery

• four beautiful pale yellow Hungarian peppers from Stokes Farm, cut lengthwise, the seeds and membranes removed, sautéed over a high or medium high flame inside a large heavy antique high-sided copper pot until slightly caramelized, one fresh bulbous shallot from Tamarack Hollow Farm and a medium fresh habanada pepper from Alewife Farm added near the end, seasoned with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper and sprinkled with chopped thyme from Stokes Farm, served with a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a California (Mendociino and Lake counties) white, Scott Peterson Rumpus California Sauvignon Blanc 2017, from Naked Wines
• the music was Pier Francesco Cavalli’s ‘Xerxes’, with Rene Jacobs both conducting and singing the title role, as countertenor

 

I had virtually no vegetables in the apartment last night, because I had not gone to the Greenmarket the day before, Monday. We were going out to dinner with a friend that night, and I expected to do just a simple pasta the next day, one which didn’t require a fresh vegetable.

And then our friend announced she was bringing us things from her garden, including some tiny cherry tomatoes. Our Tuesday dinner had suddenly been defined, and the tomatoes  turned out to be as good as they looked.

We began with a salume/salchicha from a package I had picked up a week or so earlier.

• two ounces of Fermin Salchichón Ibérico dry-cured sausage from Chelsea’s Foragers Market, made from the ‘pata negro’ breed of pig (Iberico pork, salt, nutmeg, black pepper, white pepper, plus seasoning which consisted of sugar, trisodium citrate, sodium nitrate, and potassium nitrate), drizzled with a bit of good Campania olive oil (Lamparelli O.R.O.)
• red dandelion from Norwich Meadows Farm, dressed with more of the olive oil, a bit of Maldon salt, and some freshly-ground black pepper
• slices of 12 grain bread from Bread Alone

The main course was visually striking, bursting with the color of the tomato gift..

..and in a pose captured immediately after the tomatoes were tossed into the pot, before everything was stirred and the liquid emulsified:

• three smashed cloves of Keith’s Farm rocambole garlic and two whole dried peperoncino Calabresi secchia from Buon Italia (hot, but not screaming hot small peppers) heated in a little more than a tablespoon of olive oil inside a large antique high-sided copper pot until the garlic had softened somewhat and become pungent, followed by 9 or 10 ounces of Pastificio Setaro paccheri from Buon Italia (I love that pasta shape), that just been boiled al dente, along with much of a cup of reserved pasta cooking water, 2 cups of tiny tomatoes from a friend’s garden, ‘Lower Hayfields’, in Garrison, which is a bit up the Hudson from here, and a tablespoon of fresh oregano blossoms from Norwich Meadows Farm (while saving a few to be tossed on top of the pasta at the end), everything stirred over a medium high flame until the liquid had been emulsified, seasoned with a bit of sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, arranged in shallow bowls, drizzled around the edges with olive oil, garnished with red micro mustard from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• the wine was an Italian (Alto Adige/Südtirol) white, Alois Lageder Pinot Bianco 2016, (Pino bianco is known as Weißburgunder in Germany and Austria) from Garnet Wines

• the music was Salieri’s 1775 opera buffa, ‘Il mondo alla rovescia’ [Eng. the topsy-turvy world]; it includes a Goldoni libretto, and “..the mildly risqué action is set on a mythical island where women, Amazon-like, rule the roost and men are reduced to drooling subservience.”

[the image of a scene in the opera is from ♫ il trillo parlante]

Even without the red micro amaranth garnish, this is clearly a ‘red meat’.

I was more than a little intimidated. I had been offered, and had purchased, a frozen  Mangalitsa collar steak one week before, but I had no idea what to do with it. The breed of pig was very different from any known to most cooks today, and the cut was different from any at least that I knew.

The somewhat fascinating story of this breed of pig, was familiar to me, thanks to the auspices of New Amsterdam Market, and I had cooked Mangalitsa pork before, but I had no experience with this particular cut.

I think of them as Habsburg pigs, although their story is actually more interesting than that suggests, even if they’re not Lipizzaners.

The young man at the producers’ stand in the 23rd Street farmers market had given me some pointers, and by the time I had walked away with the steak I thought I had a pretty good idea of what I would do with it, but that lasted only until a few days ago.

I’m inclined to  research, perhaps over-research, almost anything new I may be confronted with. I looked at the on-line entries for Mangalitsa, or, more importantly in this case, ‘pork collar steaks’. These 2 aspects of the subject I was investigating were never discussed combined, at least not in any useful way, and most of the time they were dealt with only separately, which only added to my confusion. I began to doubt I could cook them more or less the same way I’ve always handled good pork chops, but I had not come up with a satisfactory alternative.

The accounts that I did find on line also contradicted each other about the relative tenderness or toughness of the meat, both the breed and of the cut, and the recipes I saw were equally contradictory on that subject. Also, every one of them was also pretty elaborate, in both the ingredients proposed and the preparations described.

I was drawing a blank, so I went with what I knew, using my now-domestic classic lemon pork chop procedure, including the habanada option this time, but adjusting the cooking time for the steak’s greater thickness.

The result was an absolutely superb meat, and unlike any pork I had ever enjoyed. It’s appearance on the plate alone suggested it would be distinctive, which it certainly was.  I didn’t think it was possible but it further enhanced my admiration for the recipe I had found in ‘Italian Two Easy: Simple Recipes from the London River Cafe’ 12 years ago, and it was probably the most exciting of an extraordinary long, and continuing, run of lemon-braised chops I had been enjoying since.

I transcribed the recipe here, back in 2014.

Fortunately the 3 vegetables I accompanied it with were up to the same standard (3 because I had found that I didn’t have a sufficient amount of any one, or even 2, of them).

• one thick 13-ounce Mangalitza pork collar steak from the Mangalitsa stand in Chelsea’s Down to Earth Farmers Market on West 23rd Street (Mangalitsa will be there on 10/06, 11/10, and 12/01; the market closes December 15 and reopens early in May), brought to room temperature, thoroughly dried, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, seared quickly on both sides, in fact on all sides, since the steak was almost 2 inches thick, inside a very hot heavy enameled cast-iron oval pan, one small, fresh floral-scented heatless orange habanada pepper from Campo Rosso Farm, thinly sliced, scattered on the top surface, followed by most of the juice from half of a Whole Foods Market organic lemon, placed inside a 425º oven for a total of about 21 minutes, flipped over halfway through, the habanada slices collected first and repositioned on the the new top surface, the lemon squeezed over it again, and again replaced in the pan, the finished steak removed from the oven when done, halved, arranged on 2 plates, garnished with red micro amaranth from Two Guys from Woodbridge, the pan juices, deglazed with a tablespoon or two of the dinner wine, poured over the top of the steaks, the remainder of the rich sauce poured into a glass sauce boat which was placed on the table for access later on

• one 10-ounce fresh early-season celery root (celeriac), with greens attached, although I did not use them in this meal, from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, scrubbed, trimmed, peeled, cut into narrow wedges little more than 1/4 to 1/2″ at the thick end, tossed inside a bowl with olive oil, a quarter teaspoon of Safinter Pimenton de la Vera smoked picante paprika, sea salt, and a little freshly-ground black pepper, spread onto a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, and roasted at 425º until brown and cooked through, or about 30 minutes, removed to the plates and sprinkled with chopped parsley from Alex’s Tomato Farm in the 23rd Street farmers market
• two small green heirloom plum tomatoes, halved, warmed inside a small copper pan in a little olive oil, seasoned with salt and pepper, sprinkled with a little chopped dill, also from Alex’s Tomato Farm
• a handful or so of garlic scapes from Berried Treasure Farm, washed, dried, trimmed at either end, cut into one or 2-inch lengths, sautéed over a low to moderate flame in a tablespoon or so of Whole Foods Market house Portuguese olive oil inside a medium antique high-sided copper pan until softened, seasoned with salt and pepper
• the wine was an Italian (Alto Adige/Südtirol) white, Kerner, Castelfeder 2016, from Astor Wines
• the music was the album, ‘Corelli: Concerti Grossi Op. VI’

Considering the time it was served, it should have been styled a very late lunch, but since it was our first meal of the day it was our breakfast. We skipped lunch.

Whatever it should be called, it was delicious, also very rich, but it was an early-in-the-day rich, and it showed a number of big smiles while still in the terra cotta cazuela.

• four sections of thick bacon from pastured pigs raised by Millport Dairy Farm, fried inside a classic steel restaurant pan, each of them then cut into four sections and arranged, not touching, inside a large glazed ceramic baking pan, followed by a layer of sliced heirloom tomatoes (one large orange tomato from Eckerton Hill Farm, and one red, one small yellow, and one small maroon version from Alewife Farm), 6 free-range eggs, also from Millport Dairy Farm, broken into pan on to of the tomatoes, scatter with sliced Japanese scallion from Norwich Meadows Farm, and 10 or so medium size fresh sage leaves from Echo Creek Farm in the 23rd Street farmers market, baked inside a 375º oven until the whites had solidified, or a little over 25 minutes [as the picture shows, the yokes had also solidified, or come close to solidifying, which suggests that the next time I prepare something like this I try covering the pan loosely with aluminum foil], sprinkled with Maldon salt and freshly-ground black pepper, a pinch of dried fenugreek from Bombay Emerald Chutney Company (purchased at the Saturday Chelsea Farmers Market as well), and garnished with red micro amaranth 
• toasted slices of three different day-old or several days-old breads, a She Wolf Bakery ‘miche’ (in the picture), a 12 grain bread from Bread Alone, and a Paris-style baguette from Orwashers
• the music was the beautiful intellectual exercise of the album, ‘Bach: Morimur’, by the Hilliard Ensemble & Christoph Poppen

Thanks Mr. Oliver.

Earlier in the day I had been looking around on line for something else, when I came across this video of Jamie Oliver describing how to make a tomato salad. I was a bit taken with his blokey charm, humor, and his physical expressiveness. I watched it through to the end.

At that moment there was a pretty good stash of gorgeous heirloom tomatoes on the windowsill in our breakfast room, and it was clear they weren’t all going to wait around very long. I had already been thinking I’d have to use many of them in the dinner I’d be making that night, and at some point I realized what Mr. Oliver was describing was what I wanted to serve with my entrée.

I actually do own one of his books (‘Jamie’s Italy’, chosen probably for the pic of Jamie and his Cinquecento date on the cover), but now I was interested in what he would have to say about that night’s entrée, a tuna steak I had picked up at our neighborhood greenmarket that afternoon. In the end I didn’t budge much from my go-to formula, but I decided to go with his suggestion of adding coriander seed to the fennel seed mix I always use.

Adding the coriander turned out to be a brilliant move. I’ve decided to try yellow mustard seed next time (my idea, but at least partly inspired by the Jamie breakthrough).

Our complements to the Naked Chef for both our tomatoes and our tuna steaks!

• one thick tuna steak (11.25 ounces) from American Seafood Company’s stand in our local Chelsea Down to Earth Farmers Market on 23rd Street, rinsed, dried, halved, tops and bottoms seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper and rubbed with a mixture of a little more than a tablespoon of a combination of wonderful dry Sicilian fennel seed from Buon Italia, whole Moroccan coriander seeds from Flatiron Eataly, and a little dried peperoncino Calabresi secchi from Buon Italia, that had all first been crushed together in a porcelain mortar and pestle before the steaks were pan-grilled above a medium-high flame (for only a little more than a minute or so on each side), finished on the plates with a good squeeze of the juice of an organic lemon from Whole Foods Market and a drizzle of olive oil, garnished with red micro mustard from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• several kinds and colors and sizes of ripe heirloom tomatoes (one very large green heirloom tomato from Alewife Farm, another from Eckerton Hill Farm, and a very red plum tomato from Berried Treasures Farm), each cut into large chunks, all placed inside a vintage pyrex mixing bowl (the green one, to be precise), seasoned with sea salt, and a small bit of a red serrano pepper from Central Valley Farm, finely chopped, and a larger aji dulce pepper (not hot) from Eckerton Hill Farm, thinly sliced, a large squeeze of lemon, some Whole Foods Market Portuguese house olive oil, allowed to sit fro a few minutes, then a generous amount of Genoa basil leaves from Willow Wisp Farm tossed in, followed by a small drizzle of balsamic vinegar, the salad tossed together and arranged on the plates
• the wine was an Italian (Abruzzo) rosé, Cerasuolo d’Abruzzo, Sirio 2017, from Astor Wines
• the music was the album, ‘Sheila Silver: To The Spirit Unconquered’ 

There’s butter everywhere. I think we’re in northern France.

We haven’t been there for a while, even in the kitchen, and in fact, the last time (and first) time I worked with this recipe it resulted in something quite different; maybe there was less butter. Also, the clams were bigger, way bigger.

I think I could work this recipe using olive oil next time. The green beans as well.

• four very fresh skate wings from Pura Vida Seafood, weighing just 13 ounces altogether, coated all over with 2 tablespoons of sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper-seasoned local Union Square Greenmarket-purchased whole wheat flour from the Blew family of Oak Grove Mills Mills, the fish sautéed in 2 tablespoons of butter inside a large enameled cast iron rectangular pan for 3 minutes or so on each side, then removed to 2 plates, kept warm in a very ‘slow oven’, and a little more than a tablespoon of additional butter added to the pan, allowed to melt, and 8 littleneck clams, also from Pura Vida, tossed in, the vessel covered loosely with tin foil, the littlenecks cooked until they had opened, at which time one fresh medium habanada pepper and one small shallot from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, both sliced thinly, were added and stirred around until softened a bit, the heat then turned off with the clams still there, and the pan allowed to cool just a bit before 3 more tablespoons of butter were introduced and again pushed around with a wooden spatula until melted, the zest from an organic Whole Foods Market lemon and all of its juices, plus half a dozen thin sprigs of thyme from Stokes Farm stirred around and the seasoning checked, the skate plates removed from the warming oven and the clams arranged on and around the fish, the plates garnished with red micro amaranth from Windfall Farms

• haricots verts from Berried treasures Farm, washed, trimmed but otherwise left whole,  blanched only until softened in a large amount of salted water inside a heavy stainless steel pot that had once been a part of Peter Hoffman’s Prince and Crosby Street farm-to-table restaurant Savoy, dried in the same pan over low to medium heat, shaking, then set aside in a bowl until the fish was ready to be cooked, at which time they were reheated in a tablespoon of butter inside a heavy well-seasoned cast iron pan, finished with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and mixed with chopped parsley from Alex’s Tomato Farm in the Saturday 23rd St market
• the wine was a Portuguese (Vinho Verde/Lima) white, Vinho Verde Loureiro, Aphros 2016, from Astor Wines
• the music was an Opera Rara performance of Donizetti’s 1840 Paris opera, ‘Les Martyrs’, Mark Elder Conducting the Orchestra of the Age of the Enlightenment

There’s a reason the antipasto insalata caprese [Eng. Caprese salad, or the salad of Capri] has become legendary. It’s extraordinarily delicious when the ingredients are the best. Also, mozzarella comes from the Campania region, as do, arguably, the best tomatoes in the world, and Capri has been a jewel off the coast of Campania for thousands of years.

Last night for the first time I thought about the origin of this arrangement of such simple ingredients, and I posited that some hotel chef had probably come up with it in the 1920s or 30s.  It seems I was right. An excerpt from one account of the history of the dish, with its reference to the Italian art movement of the century, made it all more interesting than I had expected (even the Farouk anecdote which shows up on that site and elsewhere pales in comparison):

“..the first historical mention is from the early 1920s when it appeared in the menu at the Hotel Quisisana where Filippo Tommaso Marinetti, founder of Futurism, in the summer of 1924 raged against pasta calling it ‘outdated’.”

“outdated”. Great.

• an insalata caprese, here a spread of alternating layers of a house-made mozzarella classica from Eataly, slice heirloom tomatoes from Berried Treasures Farm, and whole leaves of Genoa basil from Windfall Farm, sprinkled with Maldon salt and coarsely-ground black pepper, drizzled with a great Campania olive oil (Lamparelli O.R.O.)
• slices of a She Wolf Bakery miche

I had spotted the black pansotti in the display case the day before. It was beautiful. I knew I wanted to have it, to serve it, but I was already had fish for dinner that night in my bag, so I went back the next day.

• squid ink pansotti, with a filling of mascarpone, scallion, and lump crab meat, from Luca Donofrio‘s fresh pasta shop inside Eataly’s Flatiron store, cooked very briefly, served with a sauce made by gently heating 2 Keith’s Farm rocambole garlic cloves in a little olive oil inside a heavy antique, high-sided coper pot until they had softened and become fragrant, adding a fresh medium size habanada pepper, sliced, near the end, stirring it with the pansotti for no more than a minute, then introducing the drained pasta and some of the reserved pasta water, cooking over a medium-high flame until the liquid had emulsified, a teaspoon or so of pink peppercorns tossed in and stirred, the mix arranged in shallow bowls, a little olive oil drizzled around the edges, garnished with red micro mustard from Two Guys from Woodbridge

 

• the wine throughout was an Italian (Campania/Ischia) white, Casa d’Ambra Ischia Bianco 2017, from Garnet Wines
• the music throughout the meal was mostly the album, ‘Martinů: Cello Sonatas Nos. 1-3’

This little restaurant doesn’t seem to have a theme, unless it’s described by the source for 97% of the ingredients used in the preparation of the meals it serves, that is, local farmers, fishers, and bakers. How else to explain pasta with peppers and tomato one night, sausage, kraut and boiled potatoes the next, and a fish fillet with Mediterranean and Jamaican vegetables the day after that?

There’s also the whim factor.

And the occasional very welcome input from the suppliers: On Wednesday the fisherman himself told me, “If you’re ever going to have blue, this is the time”, explaining that the ones he was showing had been caught the day before, probably by himself. We did have blue that night. It tasted as fresh as the report suggested, and it was absolutely wonderful.

Here is our fillet resting on the kitchen counter:

And here inside the au gratin pan, just before being put into the oven:

• one 15-ounce bluefish from Warren at American Seafood Company in the Union Square Greenmarket, 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 part of a serrano red pepper segment from Central Valley Farm, chopped, covered/layered with thin slices of one small red onion rom Norwich Meadows Farm, thin slices of one large ripe ripe orange heirloom tomato and 2 small green heirloom tomatoes from Berried Treasures Farm, and more than a tablespoon of chopped fresh oregano buds from Norwich Meadows Farm; plus 8 or 9 pitted Gaeta olives from Eataly and several thin slices of a Whole Foods Market organic lemon, the pan then placed inside a 425º oven and baked for about 15 minutes

• Jamaican burr cucumbers [Cucumis anguria] (while all cucumbers are originally from South Asia , these are indigenous to Africa, but have now become naturalized in the New World) from Norwich Meadows Farm, quartered, sautéed in olive oil until lightly browned, tossing in and stirring one thinly-sliced fresh habanada pepper, from Oak Grove Plantation, near the end, seasoned with sea salt, tossed with torn mojito mint/Cuban mint [L. mentha x villosa] from Willow Wisp Farm

• the wine was a Spanish (Castilla y León/Bierzo) white, Abad Dom Bueno Godello 2016, from Garnet Wines
• the music was Marin Marais’ 1709 opera, ‘Sémélé’, performed by   Le Concert Spirituel

It was a Germanic meal, and a pretty darn good one.

• four ounces of Norwegian canned cod liver, King Oscar Lofot Torskelever (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, chopped celery leaves from , sliced Japanese scallion from Norwich Meadows Farm, and a bit of juice from an organic Whole Foods Market lemon)
• toasted slices of Orwashers Moroccan olive bread (rustic wheat, white flours; black, green, Kalamata; Moroccan spices)

The entrée was very German, with a few small tweaks, and while the local German sausage, with the New Mexican hot pepper was really, really good, I thought both of the vegetables were pretty astounding. It’s all about our terrific local farmers, and GrowNYC, for getting them to us.

I love cabbage of any kind, and Sauerkraut in any form, but I chose the less familiar (and Rhenish?) ‘Weinkraut’ for this meal, because we were going to be drinking a good riesling.

• the Wurst was German, with spice, so it was modern German: four smoked spicy Hatch Chile sausages, also from Schaller & Weber, pan seared until they looked a little blistery, served with a classic German mustard, Löwensenf Medium and a dollop (occasionally refreshed) of the contents of a tube of ‘Meretina‘ horseradish spread, again, soured from Schaller & Weber
• in Germany the potato dish is described as Saltzkartoffeln (salt potatoes): it starts with some incredibly sweet, buttery small fingerling new potatoes from a farm whose name, unfortunately, I had somehow forgotten to record when I bought them in the Union Square Greenmarket weeks ago, scrubbed, boiled whole and unpeeled in heavily-salted water until barely cooked through, drained, halved, dried in the still-warm vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot in which they had cooked, barely a tablespoons of Organic Valley European-Style Cultured Butter added, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, arranged on the plates and sprinkled with homemade breadcrumbs that had first been browned in a little butter with a pinch of salt, garnished with chopped parsley from Alex’s Tomato Farm in the Saturday 23rd Street market
• the Sauerkraut was actually Weinkraut (wine cabbage), and not ‘sour’ at all: one chopped sweet medium Walla Walla onion from Alewife Farm, and one cored, peeled, chopped Idared apple from Samascott Orchards, sautéed in a tablespoon and a half of duck fat inside inside an enameled cast iron oval pot until softened, followed by one 16-ounce glass jar of sauerkraut (simply cabbage and salt) from Millport Dairy Farm in the Union Square Greenmarket that had been drained and very well-rinsed in several changes of cold water, then drained once again, squeezed, and the strands separated, the cabbage braised with the vegetables, stirring for a couple minutes, then 9 smashed whole juniper berries, about the same number of bruised whole black peppercorns, one whole fresh bay leaf from West Side Market, a little salt, and a tablespoon of olive oil added and mixed in, and one cup of a Spanish Rueda, Nisia Verdejo Old Vines 2016 (we didn’t have any spare German wines) the liquid brought to a boil and simmered over a low flame, stirring occasionally, for less than half an hour, covered, then uncovered for about 20 minutes more
• the wine was, well, it’s complicated historically: an Austrian (Weinviertel) white, Riesling “Falkenstein” Dürnberg 2015, from Astor Wines
• the music wasn’t German or Germanic at all, although I suppose it could be described as part of a shared Frankish culture and history: Charpentier’s 1686 opera, ‘La descente d’Orphée aux enfers’

It turned out to be a very red dinner, and the red extended well beyond our plates, because we had decided to listen to a 1987 John Adams opera in which a red China, a red army, a red detachment of women, a little red book, and also a few red faces, are prominently featured, however much the color red itself has to be left to the imagination in a recording limited to sound alone.

Both the dandelion and the salume in the antipasto were red.

• a few slices of uncured chorizo from Colameco’s ‘Spanish Brand Deli Selection’ at Whole Foods Market
• washed and dried leaves of red dandelion from Norwich Meadows Farm, drizzled with a good Campania olive oil (Lamparelli O.R.O.), sprinkled with Maldon salt and freshly-ground black pepper, a very small amount of balsamic vinegar poured over the top
• a few kalamata olives from Whole Foods Market
• slices of a Paris baguette from Orwashers Bakery in the 23rd Street greenmarket the day before

All of the major ingredients in the pasta sauce were so very red that I felt I had to garnish the dish with a fresh green herb once it had been placed in the bowls.

• two tablespoons of olive oil (adding more later, as necessary), heated inside a large antique high-sided copper pot before introducing one sliced medium walla walla onion from Alewife Farm and 4 chopped cloves of Keith’s Farm rocambole garlic, stirring over medium heat until the alliums had begun to turn golden and soften, a bit of peperoncino Calabresi secchia from Buon Italia added near the end, followed by one cup of piquillo peppers from  Campo Rosso Farm, thickly-sliced lengthwise and seeds and pith removed, then one cup of ripe red heirloom tomatoes from Berried Treasures Farm, roughly chopped, and one tablespoon of fresh oregano buds from Norwich Meadows Farm, the mix stirred and cooked for about 5 minutes before adding 8 ounces of an Afeltra linguine from Eataly that had been cooked inside a large pot of salted water until barely al dente, then drained, reserving a cup of the cooking water, the pot stirred, along with more than half of the pasta water, until the liquid had emulsified, the pasta arranged inside shallow bowls and garnished with chopped parsley from Alex’s Tomato Farm in the 23rd Street Saturday greenmarket

• the wine was an Italian (Marche) white, Fontezoppa Verdicchio di Matelica 2016, from Garnet Wines

There was a red desert as well, but I forgot to photograph it, so here are the strawberries ‘before’.

• thin slices of a terrific ‘Sour Cream Coffee Cake’ from Bread Alone, in the Union Square Greenmarket, with small ripe strawberries from Berried Treasures Farm, located in the ‘Black Dirt Region’ of New York State (her berries are described as a breed that’s a mix of domestic and wild stock) tossed on top, a portion of the berries macerated in a little turbinado sugar, topped with a small scoop of Talenti Vanilla Bean Gelato from Whole Foods Market

• the music throughout the meal, and long after, was the whole of John Adams’ ‘Nixon in China’, in a concert performance by Marin Alsop leading the Colorado Symphony Orchestra and a stellar cast; I think everything about the piece is magnificent, not least Alice Goodman‘s brilliant libretto, which is available here in its entirety