It was the 3rd of June; it wasn’t supposed to be a day for a wintry meal, but as I considered my stocks, and the cold outside temperature, my original conception of it gradually evolved into something looking and feeling like something more appropriate for a cooler month.

• one 14-ounce duck breast from Hudson River Duck Farm, the fatty side scored in tight cross hatching with a very sharp knife, the entire breast then rubbed, top and bottom, with a mixture of sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and a little turbinado sugar, then left standing, first inside the refrigerator and later on the counter for about an hour altogether before it was pan-fried, fatty side down first, inside a small oval enameled cast iron pan over medium heat for a total of about 9 minutes, turning once, draining the oil after the first few minutes (the fat to be strained and used in cooking at another time, if desired), removed when medium rare, cutting crosswise into 2 portions and checking that the center was of the right doneness, which means definitely no more than medium rare, and maybe even a bit less, left to sit for several minutes before it was finished with a drizzle of juice of an organic lemon from Whole Foods Market, and a little Spanish (Seville) house olive oil from Whole Foods Market, finished on the plates garnished with micro mustard greens from Windfall Farms

• a pound of so of medium-size Peter Wilcox potatoes (purple skin, golden flesh) from Tamarack Hollow Farm, scrubbed, their skins left on, cut into wedges, tossed with a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, rosemary leaves from Stokes Farm, and a bit of crumbled dry golden/orange habanada pepper,  the potatoes arranged, cut side down, on a medium Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at 400º for about 35 minutes, garnished with chopped summer savory from Stokes Farm

• two bundles of spring seed stalk burdock (or wild cardoon, but think ‘artichoke’ for the flavor!) from Gorzynski ‘Ornery’ Farm, the tops, with the leaves, removed, the stems washed, the bitter outer stringy layer pulled back from the center and torn off, using a thumb, until what remained was only the creamy pale-to-medium green interior, each stem cut into 2-inch segments as it was completed, and those pieces dropped into a bowl of water in which a heavy squeeze of lemon had been added (to keep the burdock from oxidizing and turning brown), removed from the bowl when all the stalks had been cleaned and cut, dried on a kitchen towel, tossed into a dry bowl with a little olive oil, sea salt, and freshly-ground black pepper, arranged on a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted on another shelf of the same 400º oven for about 30 minutes, then tossed while still in the pan with roughly-chopped Common mint from S. & S.O. Produce [I was already heating the oven for the potatoes, but I could also have just sautéed the cardoon inside a pan on top of the range, maybe in brown butter, finishing with a squeeze of lemon juice]
• the wine was an Austrian (Carinthia) red, Markowitsch Blaufränkisch 2016, from Astor Wines

• the music was Janice Giteck’s album, ‘Home (revisited)’ (I bought the CD at Tower Records in 1992, basically because I loved the cover, and because it was in the New Music section; at the time I had never heard of the composer, I didn’t know that the image was by Eggleston, and I didn’t know she had dedicated the pieces to people living with AIDS)

A bowl of steamed mussels is one of the most satisfying one-dish meals you can place before guests, and it’s also one of the easiest. I’ve been using the same recipe for years, and I really should come up with a new one. But this one is so good, and I bring these beautiful bivalves home so seldom (I don’t know why), that there’s not much motivation to look for another.

This dish is perfect for a hot evening, since the entire process requires less that the heat (a burner on top of the stove) be on for than 5 minutes. I found the recipe in the New York Times, where it was described as adapted by Sara Dickerman from “The Herbal Kitchen,” by Jerry Traunfeld.

There are also few ingredients, with little preparation needed (what there is to do is very easy and can be done leisurely), and everything goes into the pot at once.

The mussels were fresh, and seemed just about perfect, their little shells snapped tightly closed, until they had been steamed (we didn’t lose a single one).  Also, there were almost no beards to be trimmed (apparently they were all boy mussels or pre-teens).

The tomatoes were spectacular, as I had come to expect from this farmer, over several years.

• two and a quarter pounds of small mussels, purchased from P.E. & D.D. Seafood in the Union Square Greenmarket early that afternoon, scrubbed, and de-bearded where necessary, combined in a large heavy enameled pot (a ‘dutch oven’ in fact) with over two cups of halved cherry tomatoes from Stokes Farm that were billed, with understandable pride, ‘The Best Cherry Tomatoes’, half a cup of good white wine, a Portuguese (Alentejo) white, Esporao Alandra Branco 2016, from Garnet Wines, a few tablespoons of chopped red shallot from Norwich Meadows Farm, three and a half tablespoons of Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’, a generous amount of freshly-ground black pepper, and some coarsely-chopped lovage from Berried Treasures Farm, the pot covered and its contents simply steamed over high heat for a few minutes, arranged in shallow bowls, along with the wonder pot liquor, and sprinkled with a little more lovage (I didn’t include pepperoncino this time around, mostly because I forgot)
• served with a crusty whole wheat sourdough baguette from from Runner & Stone Bakery

I set the table with bigger spoons than usual this time, to better enjoy the liquid, and that meant bringing out some larger pieces of old coin silver, for the first time (we don’t have soup very often). They’re light and thin, but quite large, which was standard for a period all-purpose spoon, unless it was to be used for stirring tea; the key is to fill them only a little each time. They were made in southern Ohio, either Cincinnati or Chillicothe, by Edward P. Pratt, almost 200 years ago. They look brand new; maybe their previous owners didn’t serve soup very often either.

• small slices of a vegan chocolate bread from Bread Alone, topped with a scoop of Talenti (New Jersey) Vanilla Bean Gelato from Whole Foods Market
• the wine was a Portuguese (Douro) white, Quinta Do Crasto Branco 2014, from Garnet Wines
• the music was the James Tenney album, from New World Records, titled, ‘Spectrum Pieces’

It’s scape season. Actually, we’re well into the season but this was my first outing with these delightful promises of summer, the flower shoots of the garlic plant.

I put together a pretty light pasta last night, to save both time and the wonderful flavors of these buds. 

• the second half of the one-pound package of the New York City pasta, Sfoglini’s Buffalo milk spaccatelli (the first half was used 2 weeks ago in this meal) that had just finished cooking until barely al dente, served with a simple fresh sauce which began with at least 2 cups of tender garlic scapes from Norwich Meadows Farm, cut into 2-inch lengths, sautéed in olive oil for 3 or 4 minutes, 2 tablespoons of butter and most of the juice of one organic lemon from Whole Foods added to the pan, the pasta added once the butter had melted, along with the zest from that same lemon, everything mix stirred over low heat, during which time some reserved cooking water was added to help emulsify it, the mix seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, arranged in 2 low bowls, scattered with micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge, and with a bit of olive oil drizzled around the edge
• the wine was an Italian (Marche) rosé, De Angelis Marche Rosato IGT 2017, from Foragers Wines
• the music was an album of Grazyna Bacewicz string quartets

Germans in Louisiana.

I admit I don’t always get irony, and besides, why couldn’t there be Germans in Louisiana?

Barry picked up 4 sausages at Schaller & Weber on Wednesday. It’s the very German butcher and grocery store on the upper east side, which makes their own sausages. While he was still there, he texted me this image of a pre-packed version of the same Andouille, because the packaging had a description of the product on the label.

“A SPICY SAUSAGE FROM LOUISIANA’S GERMAN COAST”

I took the words literally, which Barry found amusing when I mentioned it once he had returned home. It seems I hadn’t understood the conceit: The smart young German-American owner of his family’s traditional ethnic food shop, one that had opened in intensely German Yorkville over 80 years ago, was playing with contemporary New York taste, and the superficial absurdity of a spicy Cajun sausage having anything to do with Germans.

All of this might have been true, but after a little searching on line just now, I learned that an important German migration (mostly Rhinelanders, who seem to have been the most prosperous and mobile), settled in the areas now called Cajun in 1717-1722, preceding by 40 or 50 years the arrival of the Acadians from Canada, following Le Grand Dérangement. The German area was, and still is known as the German Coast. One account says these Germans were responsible for introducing sausages to the region.

We didn’t need this intelligence to enjoy the delicious sausages we had last night, but I’m delighted to learn that Jeremy Schaller knows his history – and his geography.

• four fresh links of Louisiana German Coast-style spicy Andouille sausage from Schaller & Weber’s store, pan grilled for a few minutes, turning often until well scored on all sides, served with Inglehoffer  cranberry mustard (a perfect condiment for strong spicy sausages)
• two halved Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods Market, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, heated gently face down, then turned, inside a small vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pan, sprinkled with a little chopped chopped summer savory from Stokes Farm
• one bunch of red Russian kale from Migliorelli Farm, washed, drained, wilted inside a large enameled cast iron pot in a tablespoon or so of olive oil in which a section of spring garlic from Berried Treasures Farm had first been allowed to soften, seasoned with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, arranged on the plates, where a little more olive oil was drizzled on top
• the wine was a California (Pine Mountain–Cloverdale, of Sonoma County) red, Ana Diogo-Draper Cabernet Sauvignon Pine Mountain Vineyard-Cloverdale Peak 2016, from Naked Wines
• the music was Gloria Coates’ Symphony No. 7, with Jorge Rotter conducting the Siegerland Orchestra; and her piano trio, ‘Lyric Suite’, ‘Split the Lark – and you’ll find the Music’, performed by members of the Kreuzer Quartet

I would be completely satisfied with the wonderful variety of seafood we have off our own shores (with a little help from shrimp and trout farmers) if it weren’t for the fact that the order octopada isn’t included.

When we are able to enjoy this delicacy, either we or the octopuses have to get on a plane* to make it possible.

• four 3 or 4-ounce previously-frozen baby Spanish octopuses (.83 pounds), from our neighborhood Lobster Place, marinated in the refrigerator and then on the kitchen counter for about an hour (the original recipe suggested 2 or 3 hours) in a mixture of 1/4 cup olive oil; one teaspoon of dried Italian oregano from the Madonie Mountains in Sicily; the zest and juice of half of an organic Whole Foods lemon; 1/4 teaspoon of crushed peperoncino Calabresi secchia from Buon Italia; 1/2 teaspoon of salt; and the green part of a spring garlic stem, chopped thinly, the octopus removed from the mix, drained a bit and pan-grilled over a high flame for 10 or 12 minutes mouth/beak side down first, then placed on 2 of its sides (optionally, with a piece of aluminum foil loosely covering the grill pan throughout because of their moderate thickness in this case), served with a squeeze of the same lemon and some olive oil, and garnished with chopped fresh oregano from Neversink Farm
• Pinto potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, boiled with a generous amount of salt until barely cooked through, drained, halved, dried while still inside the large, still-warm vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot in which they had cooked, tossed with a tablespoon of olive oil, sprinkled with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and some micro chervil from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• six halved Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods Market, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, heated gently, face down, then turned, inside a medium copper skillet, garnished with micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge

• the tomatoes were arranged on top of small, surprisingly bitter, spring radicchio plants from Tamarack Hollow Farm (I bought their last bag, seen in the picture, and, silly me, I had first thought they were selling the plants by the each)
• the wine was a Spanish (Canary Islands) white, Tajinaste Blanco Seco 2016, from Foragers Market Wine (note: there are octopuses in the Canary Islands)
• the music was the Paola Prestini album, ‘Labyrinth Installation Concertos’

* I’m assuming octopuses fly to get here.

Our Sunday egg regimen was moved to Monday this week, and it was simplified slightly along the way. In the interest of getting a (relatively) early start on our visit to the Whitney, I went easy on the condiments, and I skipped the bacon. I was rewarded, for the first time in weeks, with rich perky egg yolks that didn’t break before they were asked to.

Because it was Monday and not Sunday, we accompanied ourselves with the very secular John Cage.

• the ingredients included Americauna chicken eggs from Millport Dairy Farm fried in Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’ and sprinkled with chives from Lani’s Farm; Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods Market heated in Whole Food Market Spanish (‘Seville’) house olive oil, sprinkled with chopped sage from Stokes Farm; Maldon salt; freshly-ground black pepper seasoning both the eggs and the tomatoes; the plate garnished with micro chervil from Two Guys from Woodbridge, with toast slices from a loaf of Twelve Grain & Seed bread from Bread Alone
• the music was John Cage, a good part of his long ’44 Harmonies from Apartment House 1776′

It was Memorial Day weekend, so I made an attempt to observe the holiday that once celebrated the countless dead in our many wars but which now marks the beginning of the summer season.

On Sunday night we had steak and French fries, with a tomato salad, or, to be more precise, seared and sautéed culotte steaks and rutabaga oven fries with something more like a sweet and sour tomato salsa.

• two 7-ounce culotte steaks from Sunfed (grain finished) from Greg and Mike of Sun Fed Beef/Maple Avenue Farms in the Union Square Greenmarket, brought to room temperature, seasoned on all sides with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, seared briefly on the top, or thick fat-covered side (much of the fat is rendered in the cooking, and the rest just makes the steak taste wonderful), inside an oval enameled cast iron pan, then cooked for 3 or 4 minutes on each side to rare-to-medium-rare, after which the narrow bottom side was seared, very briefly, the steaks removed from the pan, placed on the plates, juice from an organic Whole Foods Market lemon squeezed on top, sprinkled with chopped lovage from Berried treasures Farm, drizzled with a Whole Foods Market Spanish (‘Seville’) house olive oil, and allowed to rest for about 4 minutes

The cut rutabaga was tossed into a bowl with olive oil and some friendly seasonings before it saw the oven.

• a little over a pound of rutabaga from Tamarack Hollow Farm, washed, dried, peeled, and cut as for French fries, tossed with about one tablespoon of olive oil, some sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, some leaves that had been torn from a few sprigs of Stokes Farm rosemary, and a bit of crushed dried pieces of  golden/bronze habanada pepper, then spread evenly, without crowding, onto 2 large, seasoned, unglazed ceramic oven pans, roasted at 400º for about 30 or 35 minutes, garnished with micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• more than a handful of small, very sweet grape tomatoes from Kernan Farms in southern New Jersey, halved, tossed in olive oil, salt, pepper, a few drops of white balsamic vinegar, and a little chopped flowering sage from Stokes Farm, arranged inside 2 small ceramic prep bowls placed on top of the plates, each of them garnished with a flowered stem of the herb
• the wine was a Portuguese (Douro) red, Crasto Douro Superior 2014, from Garnet Wines
• the music was Gloria Coates’ fourth and seventh symphonies

First, it wasn’t the mammal. It had gills and fins, at least originally.

Second, this time I decided I’d prepare this wonderful fish, which is oddly tagged, the ‘common dolphinfish‘, as simply as possible.

It began with a simple marinade..

..and wound up as a simple grill, the dolphin arriving on the plate dressed in nothing more than a squeeze of lemon, a drizzle of olive oil, and a colorful garnish.

• one 17-ounce dolphinfish fillet from American Seafood Company’s stand at Chelsea’s Saturday Down to Earth Farmers Market on 23rd Street, rubbed with a mix of Whole Food Market’s good house Seville olive oil, a few drops of Aceto Cesare Bianco white wine vinegar from Buon Italia, a bit of sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and a respectable number of fresh thyme leaves from Stokes Farm, allowed to rest on an old oval ironstone platter for half an hour (the first 15 minutes inside the refrigerator, the second on the counter), then placed, skin side down, on the ribs of an enameled cast iron grill pan over a medium to high flame for almost 2 1/2 minutes, turned, the flesh side grilled for almost 4 1/2 minutes longer, arrange on 2 plates, drizzled with a little Whole Foods Market organic lemon juice, scattered with micro red amaranth, a bit of olive oil poured over the top

Even the vegetables fended pretty much for themselves in this meal.

 

• a little more than a handful of small Norland Red potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, boiled with a generous amount of salt until barely cooked through, drained, halved, dried while still inside the medium-size, still-warm vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot in which they had cooked, tossed with a tablespoon or so of olive oil, sprinkled with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and some de-stemmed chervil from Campo Rosso Farm

• one small bunch of cavolo nero, or lacinato, from Migliorelli Farm, wilted briefly inside a large vintage tin-lined copper pot in a tablespoon or so of olive oil in which one sliced stem of Berried Treasures Farm’s spring garlic had first been heated until softened, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, drizzled with a little more oil
• the wine was a French (Provence) rosé, Rose Chateau des Muraires Seduction 2015, from Garnet Wines
• the music was the Deep Listening Band‘s 1990 album, ‘The Ready Made Boomerang’

We’ve enjoyed some sea creatures lately that I hadn’t seen in the market for a while (fish have seasons too). On Saturday we will be having dolphinfish, but Friday night’s entrée was pretty special too: John Dory (aka  Peter’s Fish, Saint-Pierre, San-Pierre, Petersfisch, Pez de san Pedro, and Pesce san Pietro, just for starters)

The fish was gleaming, but the vegetables were absolutely vivid.

• two seven-and-a-half-ounce John Dory Fillets from American Seafood Company in the Union Square Greenmarket, marinated inside the refrigerator for about 30 minutes in a mix of an inch of a spring garlic stem, sliced, from Berried Treasures, a teaspoon of chopped fresh oregano from Neversink Farm, the zest from much of one mandarin from Whole Foods Market (the original recipe specifies orange zest, but I had always used lemon until now), more than half of a teaspoon of La Tourangelle walnut oil, sea salt, and freshly-ground black pepper, removed from the refrigerator and allowed to come to room temperature for about 15 minutes or more, placed skin-side down inside a large (17″) seasoned vintage oval steel pan (scroll down for the image) that had been heated over medium-high heat with enough olive oil to coat the surface, the heat immediately reduced slightly, flipped after 3 minutes and cooked for just about 2 minutes more, removed and arranged on warm plates, whatever juices remained in the pan poured over the fillets, garnished with some chervil from Campo Rosso Farm
• slices of an organic multigrain baguette from Bread Alone
• 20 small ripe, very sweet grape tomatoes from Kernan Farms, each punctured once with a small metal trussing pin to prevent it from exploding when using a fork to pick them up on the plate, rolled in a small bit of olive oil inside a small vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pan until they had begun to soften, sprinkled with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and chopped flowering sage, arranged on the plates, a few blossoms sprinkled on top
• a stash of Campo Rosso Farm’s broccolini (a hybrid cross between broccoli and Gai Lan, aka Chinese broccoli), washed and drained a couple times in fresh cold water, chopped roughly, sautéed/wilted over a low flame by gradually adding them to a heavy large antique copper pot in which a good size section of the same spring garlic stem used in the fish mariande, sliced, had first been heated until it had begun to soften, seasoned with sea slat and freshly-ground black pepper
• the wine was a California (Sonoma) white, Scott Peterson Rumpus California Chardonnay 2016, from Naked Wines
• the music, bearing in mind that it was the Friday before Memorial Day, which is virtually the opening ceremony for the summer insect free-for-all, was David Rothenberg’s ‘Bug Music’

We’ve enjoyed this several times before, probably four since I began this blog, and it’s always a pleasure to sit down to, even more so for the cook, if he’s been busy or can’t come up with something more complicated, because it really asks so little.

I already knew about the ‘recipe’ and the tradition of guys cooking late at night that’s associated with it*, and I had already been assembling its ilk for years when I cut a printed version of it, by David Tanis, out of the ‘Dining’ section of the New York Times back in 2011.  The article’s titillating headline read, “At the End of the Night, Satisfaction“.  In fact, there may be an almost infinite number of variations to this meal, and most of them are likely to be equally seductive.

I don’t usually include a cheese; that might make it too sexy.

 

* actually, the recipe normally described as the only thing Italian bachelors know how to make for themselves is Spaghetti Aglio e Olio

 

• two thick stems of sliced spring garlic from Norwich Meadows Farm heated in a third of a cup of olive oil over a medium flame inside a large vintage copper pot until softened but not browned, 4 salted anchovies from Buon Italia, well-rinsed, added to the pan and mashed with a wooden spoon, followed by a tablespoon of Sicilian salted capers, rinsed and drained, and half a teaspoon Waldy’s Wood Fired Pizza‘s excellent red pepper flakes, the mix cooked for only one minute, the heat turned off until half a pound of pasta (Afeltra 100% grano italiano spaghetti, produced in Gragnano, from Eataly Flatiron), boiled only until still pretty firmly al dente, was mixed in along with, gradually, over half a cup of the reserved pasta water, the contents of the pot stirred over medium heat for another minute or two while the liquid was both emulsified and slightly reduced, then at least 3 tablespoons of chopped parsley from Phillips Farm were added and mixed in before the pasta was arranged in 2 shallow bowls and sprinkled more parsley, with a bit of olive oil drizzled around the circumference
• the wine was an Italian (Campania) white, Feudi di San Gregorio Falanghina 2016, from Garnet Wines
• the music was the album, ‘Joan Tower: Instrumental Music’