Search for goat - 141 results found

wine-braised goat shanks; polenta; collards; fig ice cream

Esto no es una mole

There was no chocolate, and it’s pretty clearly a European formula.

The headline read, “Wine-Braised Goat Shanks with Tomatoes and Oregano“, so it just screamed holiday dinner.

It was December 25.

The recipe was new to me. I found it on a Seattle-based locavore food site, ‘Edible Seattle‘, where it was credited to an area goat farmer. It may not have been the fanciest pedigree, but it was absolutely delicious, made a great presentation, and it was almost entirely stressless (nearly all the work was done hours before it was served).

  • two tablespoons of olive oil heated over a medium flame inside a large antique (possibly 200 years old) French newly-[re]tinned copper daubière, and two perfect 16-ounce goat shanks from LynnHaven Goat Farm in the Union Square Greenmarket, patted dry, placed inside and browned on all sides, turning several times, for about 15 minutes altogether, transferred to a plate resting on the flat unencumbered top of my 1936 Magic Chef oven that had already been  heated to 325º, then a mixture of one medium red onion, 3 chopped medium orange carrots from The Grandpa farm, [there should also ,have been some chopped celery in this list, but I didn’t have any, so I substituted, for no particular reason other than that I had it, one peeled and chopped golden beet from Norwich Meadows Farm], 2 cloves of peeled rocambole garlic from Keith’s Farm, and one small chopped aji dulce yellow seasoning pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm (me tweaking the recipe) added to the pot, the vegetables seasoned with salt and pepper and cook for 10 minutes, stirring often, until soft, and a heaping tablespoon of chopped fresh oregano from Stokes Farm, 3 small fresh bay leaves from Chelsea’s West Side Market, and 8 ounces from a can of excellent Mutti peeled Italian (Parma) plum tomatoes, crushed, one and half cups of red wine (Stefano di Blasi Toscana 2018), and one cup of a very good chicken stock, made with Better Than Bullion, added, the liquid brought to a simmer, the seared goat shanks returned, a buttered piece of parchment cut to the beautiful rounded rectangle shape of the pot placed on the top of the goat and vegetables (to reduce evaporation, making for a richer daube), the pot covered and placed inside the oven to cook, turning the shanks once, for 2 to 3 hours, or until the meat was very tender, the meat then placed on a platter, or inside an au gratin and placed in the now merely warm oven (or on top of the oven, tented with aluminum foil, and the rich liquids remaining strained, discarding the solids (but retained for use in another meal, in a very substantial soup), the braising juices returned to the pot, where they were brought to a strong simmer over high heat and cooked, stirring occasionally, until reduced almost to the consistency of maple syrup, which might be about 20 minutes, the shanks then returned to the daubière, one at a time, rolled in the sauce to coat, then arranged on warm plates and served  drizzled with the remaining sauce
  • one cup of coarsely-ground Iroquois White Corn Project white corn flour from the Greenmarket Regional Grains Project stall in the Greenmarket) poured slowly, while whisking constantly, into 3 cups of water and one of whole milk, with one teaspoon of sea salt added, that had been heated to a simmer inside an enameled cast iron Michael Lax Copco dutch oven I’e had for half a century, the heat reduced once all had been added, and the mixture simmered, stirring, eventually using a wooden spoon, until it had thickened and the meal tasted cooked, probably 20 minutes altogether, the heat turned off and 3 tablespoons of rich butter, 1/3 cup of heavy cream, and 2 ounces of a gorgonzola dolce from Buon Italia, added and stirred until the cheese had melted, seasoned with salt and pepper to taste, served alongside the shanks  [Note: polenta can be prepared ahead of time, kept warm in a double boiler over low heat for maybe 2 hours, then stirring in a little additional boiling water and stirring just before serving]
  • a small bunch of sweet baby December collards tender collards from Windfall Farms, leaves and stems roughly cut, washed several times and drained, transferred to a smaller bowl very quickly in order to retain as much of the water clinging to them as possible, braised inside a heavy medium size antique tin-lined copper pot in which 2 halved cloves of garlic had first been allowed to sweat in some olive oil, finished with sea salt and freshly ground pepper, drizzled with a bit of olive oil
  • the wine was a great Italian (Campania/Montevetrano) red, Colli di Salerno 2013 (cabernet sauvignon, aglianico, merlot), from Bottlerocket

There was a dessert, also stressless, since it only had to be assembled.

 

goat cheese and lemon panzerotti, granada pepper, parsley

It was an extremely simple meal of a pasta followed by a course that included 3 different cheeses with bread to accompany them.

grilled swordfish salad; roasted goat rack; brussels sprouts

The only swordfish steaks left inside the fishers’ bucket on Friday when I arrived at his stand in the Union Square Greenmarket were a bit larger than what we normally share, so, at Paul’s suggestion, that evening I decided to cut off a smaller section, grill it with the other two, larger parts, that we had for dinner that night, but then put it away in the refrigerator, immersed in olive oil, to use in an appetizer the next day, its character to be determined then.

That’s exactly what I did, and it was really delicious. It was an incredibly simple operation, but I should have arranged it to look more simple than it did. My mind was already on the next course however, so the minimal aesthetic just didn’t happen.

  • four ounces of a swordfish steak from Pura Vida Seafood that had been marinated and grilled the day, after which it had been refrigerated and submerged in olive oil overnight, brought to room temperature the next evening, removed from the oil, cut into 8 thin slices, arranged on a bed of washed purple butter lettuce from Fledging Crow Vegetables and some leaves from a radicchio variegato di Castelfranco from Campo Rosso Farm that had already prepared, dressed with a good Cretan (Chania) olive oil, Renieris Estate ‘Divina’ (a Koroneiki varietal) and a squeeze of organic California lemon, both from Chelsea Whole Foods Market, local P.E. & D.D. sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, sprinkled with chopped small stems and leaves from a small green stalk of celery from Norwich Meadows Farm, and also some scissored chives from Philipps Farms, the entire salad garnished with micro chervil from Two Guys from Woodbridge
  • there were slices from a loaf of the excellent ‘homadama’ (wheat, corn, water, maple syrup, salt, slaked lime) from Lost Bread Co.
  • the wine was a really excellent Spanish (Jerez) fortified wine, Gonzalez-Byass “Tio Pepe” Fino Sherry, from Foragers Wines

Having the swordfish on hand for an appetizer meant I could reduce or simplify the main course, which, because of how special the entrée turned out to be, was an excellent idea. The goat was beautiful, perfectly cooked, and very simple to carve, but above all, absolutely delicious, at least as tasty as a much more expensive rack of lamb [this perfect small rack, plenty for the 2 of us, set me back just less than $16].

  • one small (13.5-ounce) rack of goat from Marie, who was managing the Union Square table of Lynnhaven Dairy Goats, dry-marinated for about 2 hours [the time could be less, if you started late, or much longer, but in any event I try to have it outside the refrigerator only for the last hour] in a mixture of rosemary leaves from Keith’s Farm, removed from their stems; 2 medium crushed fresh bay leaves from Uncle Vinny’s, possibly Columbian, from Westside Market; the zest from a small Chelsea Market lemon; a small part of one crushed dried habanada pepper; sea salt, and some freshly-ground black pepper, after which the goat was dried with paper towels and coated lightly with olive oil, the oven preheated to 425º, a heavy oval enameled cast iron pan placed inside for 10 minutes, the rack arranged inside the hot pan flesh side down and roasted for about 17 minutes this time [the instant thermometer read exactly 120º then, the first time I checked], for rare to medium rare doneness, and not at all bloody, allowed to rest for 7 minutes or so, loosely covered with foil to keep warm, the ribs then separated into 8 chops with a heavy knife and arranged on the 2 plates, finished with a squeeze of the lemon from which the zest had been removed earlier, drizzled with a bit of olive oil,

and garnished with some of the new growth at the top of a horseradish root purchased the day before from Holy Schmitts Horseradish in the Greenmarket, chopped

  • more than three quarters of a pound of really gorgeous small Brussels sprouts from John D. Madura Farms, washed, trimmed, dried, tossed with olive oil, sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, roasted in a the same 425º oven as the goat on a large unglazed Pampered Chef oven pan until they were browned and crisp on the outside, or for about 15 minutes, and finished with a small amount of decent balsamic vinegar flicked onto them with a small brush
  • the wine was a Portuguese (Douro) red, Quinta do Pôpa ‘Contos da Terra’, Douro Red 2016, from Astor Wines

 

marinated goat ribs; roasted potatoes; asparagus, ramps

‘ribs’

I grew up in the upper Midwest, where I’m pretty sure the practice of cooking outdoors on a real fire was called a cookout, at least it was way back then. A barbeque, or more often, bar-b-q, was something cowboys had, or at least something that happened in the Southwest. To me it was certainly associated with some not random, but very competitive spicy smokey tomato sauce. Barbecued ribs were the classic form. The entire concept was eventually repackaged as serious casual restaurant food for rugged guys with rugged tastes, guys who probably didn’t know how cook it themselves, or at least didn’t have the time or equipment to do it themselves. These guys didn’t mind messy finger food. I always have, so barbeque has never been much of a thing for me.

Last night we had a cookout at home, although, as a New York apartment cookout, it was actually a cook-in.

There was also no spicy, smokey tomato sauce, and there was no fire, but there really were ribs. They were goat ribs however, which must certainly disqualify the experience as anything associated with the American male appetite.

Except that they were delicious.

In the end, I even abandoned my knife and fork, which I almost never do.

They also didn’t take hours, which meant they didn’t heat up the apartment for hours. Every recipe I saw on line for goat ribs (or lamb, which can be treated in almost exactly the same way) described some form of extended cooking involving the oven, and then I came across this simple suggestion on a New Zealand site for cooking lamb ribs, once they had been marinated:

Preheat a barbecue grill or frying pan to a medium-high heat. Add the ribs and cook until browned and crunchy on all sides – around 15-20 minutes. If you have single ribs they will only take about 10-15 minutes.

I didn’t use its marinade suggestion found there, but the thought that long, slow cooking wasn’t an imperative was a breakthrough. Still, I didn’t fully trust its [only 10-20 minutes!] timing indication, so I started the ribs just before I would be putting the potatoes or asparagus into the oven, knowing that I could keep the 2 vegetables or the ribs warm while finishing the other. Everything worked out fine.

  • just over one pound of goat riblets, separated, from Lynnhaven Dairy Goat Farm in the Union Square Greenmarket, rolled in a marinade which included a little chopped spring garlic from Lani’s Farm, one large chopped ramp bulb from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, a couple tablespoons of Whole Foods house Portuguese olive oil, flowering thyme from Norwich Meadows Farm, the zest from more than half of an organic Whole Foods lemon, a little lemon juice, a few tablespoons of Corvo Sicilian white wine, one tablespoon of dried Sicilian oregano, sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, the chops then set aside covered, on the counter for about one hour, drained, seasoned, and placed inside a large heavy enameled cast iron skillet above a medium high flame, seared on all sides and cooked, turning occasionally, for about 25-30 minutes (at this point I wasn’t watching the clock, but the vegetables) during which time they were checked for doneness – and tenderness – and at some moment the heat was turned down while waiting for the vegetables to finish cooking
  • six medium ‘red thumb’ potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, halved, tossed with a little olive oil , salt, black pepper, a pinch of hickory smoked Jamaican Scotch Bonnet pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, and another pinch of home dried habanada pepper, originally purchased fresh from Norwich Meadows Farm, spread across the surface of a medium Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan and roasted at 400-425º for a little longer than 20 minutes
  • about 11 ounces of thin asparagus spears from Hoeffner Farms and the white sections (the green leaves removed) of 8 or more ramps from mountain Sweet Berry Farm, a handful of thyme branches from Stokes Farm, a little more than a tablespoon of olive oil, a little sea salt, and a bit of freshly-ground black pepper, all rolled along the surface of a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted for about 20 to 25 minutes at 400-425º, and near the end of that time, some of the reserved green ramp leaves, roughly-sliced, thrown on top of the asparagus, pushed around with a wooden spatula, the vegetables removed, more thinly sliced ramp leaves laid on top, everything drizzled with a bit of lemon juice
  • the wine was a wonderful Portuguese (Lisbon/Estremadura) red, Montaria Reserva Portugal 2016, from Naked Wines (they’re expanding beyond the U.S.)
  • the music was Roman Haubenstock-Ramati’s album, ‘Konstellationen’

marinated goat chops; green garlic-sauté cucumber; kale

The picture reminds me of how good the meal was, and I’m happy with some of the details it describes, since I could easily have just repeated much of the formula I’ve used with so many of the the goat chops I’ve served. At least some of the credit for the innovations must be ascribed to (perceived) necessity.

To begin with, while I had planned on serving roasted fingerlings, since it was warm and humid last night I decided to try something that didn’t need a hot oven. I also thought about how the only potatoes I had in the larder would go better with the very German meal I was planning to serve on Monday, Decoration Day.  Fortunately I had picked up some very attractive light green cucumbers (they were delicious, as it turns out) at the Union Square Greenmarket the day before.

I didn’t have any dill, which is an obvious accompaniment for the cucumbers, but I did have some still very fresh acting fennel fronds in the crisper, left over from a meal more than a week before. I also want to thank Persephone for the blessings of green, or spring garlic, especially welcome in a season which leaves us totally bereft of at least the local dried sort.

Another novelty was the final touch given to the chops themselves: While looking on line for garlic mustard information in order to write about it in an earlier post, I read that this herb and putative invasive garden pest alliaria petiolata went really well with goat.

  • four small loin goat chops (averaging just over 3 ounces each) from Lynnhaven Dairy Goat Farm, marinated about 45 minutes to an hour in a mix of a couple tablespoons of olive oil, one sliced stem of green or spring ‘Magic garlic’ from Windfall Farms, a freshly-ground mix of black pepper and other seeds or spices (fennel seeds cumin seeds, coriander seeds, star anise, white peppercorns, and whole clove) that had been accidentally combined when I was preparing a dry marinade for a pork belly, then decided to hold onto for future use, 8 slightly-crushed juniper berries, some roughly-chopped rosemary from Stokes Farm, one medium size crushed, now-dried-but-purchased-fresh, bay leaf from Westside Market, and a little zest and juice from an organic Whole Foods Market lemon, the chops pan-grilled for a few minutes, turning 3 times, seasoned with sea salt and a little more pepper after the first turn, finished, while they rested for a few minutes on warm plates, with a bit of lemon juice and a drizzle of olive oil, garnished with roughly chopped garlic mustard from Norwich Meadows Farm [they were perfectly cooked, with not anxiety, this time

  • two cucumbers (12 ounces?), described as ‘Japanese cucumbers’ by the guys at Norwich Meadows Farm where I bought them, although I can’t locate anything on line with their color (light green, almost yellow), unpeeled, sliced into rounds 2 or 3 cms thick, sautéed, along with another sliced stem of spring ‘Magic garlic’, in a little olive oil inside a large antique copper pot over a medium-high flame, turning twice, sprinkling with salt each time, each side allowed to begin carbonizing, adding slices from the stems of several small fennel bulbs from Central Valley Farm, more than half way through, seasoned with freshly-ground black pepper, arranged on the plates, garnished with chopped fennel fronds and drizzled with a little olive oil