haddock baked with potato and tomato, sorrel; bok choy

I’ve been talking about cold weather food for days, and while this meal continues the theme, the appearance of tomato, and sorrel this time (although both were grown inside), suggests relief might be on the way.

It was still an oven-baked dish, and the bok choy was a local January/February phenomenon discovered in the Union Square Greenmarket after weeks without any real green vegetables, or at least none on my visits afternoons, and it was the last bundle on the table when I arrived at the farm stand.

  • two 8-ounce kennebec potatoes from Rick Bishop’s Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, washed, but not peeled, sliced thinly with a sharp knife, tossed in a ceramic oven pan with two tablespoons of butter which had already been allowed to melt inside the pan over a very low flame (I stepped away for a minute, and when I looked back, I saw, scarily, that the butter had begun to brown a bit in the center of the clay casserole; I stopped it before any harm was done and I think the slight browning actually added more flavor to the dish), some sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper added, the potatoes then spread evenly, roasted at 425º, sprinkled after 12 minutes with one large sliced scallion from Philipps Farms, and, at roughly 20 minutes, a few Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods Market, each sliced horizontally into 3 sections and lightly seasoned, the pan remaining in the oven a few minutes longer, for what would be a total of about 25-30 minutes, when they had begun to brown, when one 17-ounce haddock fillet from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, cut crosswise into two pieces of equal weight, ws placed on top of the vegetables, the fish spread with softened knobs from a little more than one tablespoon of butter, some sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, the pan returned to the oven for 10, maybe 13, minutes, or until the fish was just done, or cooked through, its contents arranged on the plates, the fillets topped with fresh baby sorrel from Two Guys from Woodbridge that had been just slightly heated in a little butter
  • several small heads of bok choy from Philipps Farms, the last in their stand when I arrived, the leaves separated from the base, very thoroughly washed and drained, halved crosswise, the stems stirred into a large antique large copper pot inside of which 2 bruised and halved garlic cloves from John D. Madura Farms had been heated until beginning to brown, the thinner, leaf ends added a few seconds later, occasionally introducing some of the water which they had shed after being washed, the greens cooked until barely tender, their stems still a little crunchy, seasoned with salt and pepper, arranged on the plates, and drizzled with a little more olive oil
  • the wine was a really awesome Australian (VictoriaAppellation/Goulburn Valley) white, Ben Haines B Minor Rousanne Marsanne 2016, from Copake Wine Works
  • the music was Bellini’s opera semiseria, ‘La Sonnambula’, Evelino Pidò conducting the Lyon Opera Orchestra and the Lyon Opera Chorus 

a sturdy pasta baked with 1 potato, 2 cabbages, 3 cheeses

It was still bitterly cold out, but we’d enjoyed our home and body-warming meat ration the day before. Normally the alternative for a meal on a day when there was no market in Union Square would be a boiled pasta dish, but it seemed to both of us that a baked pasta would be much more satisfying, given the weather outside, and temperatures in the high 60s inside.

We had almost none of the ingredients I usually incorporate in these dishes, but I looked deeper in the file I keep for oven pastas and found one recipe that matched what we did have, and, except for 2 of the 3 cheeses, all of the ingredients would be local.

Even after I discovered that I didn’t have a large enough number of Brussels sprouts, I was able to recover, deciding that my large stock of winter kale, also local produce, could be substituted for the amount missing. I hope to make this dish again, but I’d try really hard to make it as it was deigned, using Brussels sprouts alone, because they have a sweetness other brassicas lack, regardless of their own virtues, and I also think I would want to roast them, for even greater flavor, rather than include them in the water with the pasta and the potatoes.

I didn’t have quite enough pasta, even putting 2 different hearty local artisanal varieties together, so I added a second potato, the same kind as the first. This may have produced an ambiguity in that part of the headline at the top of this post, which I had composed before I began cooking.

The recipe doesn’t mention salt, except for generously adding some to the pasta and potato cooking water, nor is pepper included, but both would be appropriate additions at the time the contents of the casserole are arranged; I also added a bit of dark dried habanada pepper at the same time.

We didn’t finish half of the dish on Thursday, but it’s likely to taste even better when we return to it.

goat rack; chili-roasted potatoes; cabbage, alliums, vinegar

It was winter, the temperature was going to go down into the single digits, and we still didn;t intend to turn on any of the apartment radiators. I took a small roast out of the freezer the night before, thinking we’d appreciate having the oven going Wednesday evening, but also fully aware that a rack of goat, some spicy crispy roast potatoes, and savory braised cabbage would be more than just protection from the cold.

  • one goat loin rack (21 ounces) from Lynn Haven in the Union Square Greenmarket, dry-marinated for about an hour, or a little more, outside the refrigerator [I had forgotten that the recipe suggested marinating for a few hours, mostly inside the refrigerator] in a mixture of rosemary leaves from Chelsea Whole Foods Market, removed from their stems; 2 medium crushed bay leaves from Westside Market; a bit of zest from an organic lemon from Whole Foods Market; a small part of one crushed dried dark habanada pepper; sea salt, and freshly-ground black pepper, then dried with paper towels and coated lightly with olive oil, the oven preheated to 425º and a heavy oval enameled cast iron pan placed inside for 10 minutes, the goat arranged, flesh side down, inside the hot pan and roasted in the preheated oven for about 15 minutes (for rare to medium rare doneness), allowed to rest for 7 minutes or so, the ribs separated into 4 chops with a heavy knife and arranged on 2 plates, finished with a squeeze of the lemon from which the zest had been removed earlier, drizzled with a bit of olive oil, garnished with micro red mustard from Two guys from Woodbridge
  • twelve ounces of ‘red thumb’ small-medium potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm (some of the potatoes were quite red inside as well as out; today I asked the farmers about it and was told it wasn’t a mixup of varieties, but a characteristic quirk of this one), halved lengthwise, tossed with a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, a pinch of smoked Scotch Bonnet pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, 6 medium-size rocambole garlic cloves from Keith’s Farm (unpeeled, to keep them from burning), roasted cut-side down inside a 400º oven on a large very well-seasoned Pampered Chef ceramic pan for less about 20 minutes [the potatoes were prepared and kept warm before the goat was placed in its pan and roasted] arranged on the plates and sprinkled with chopped parsley from Philipps Farms
  • an indeterminate number of chopped scallions (maybe 5 or 6), a mix of red-skinned Japanese from Norwich Meadows Farm and the more conventional from Philipps Farms, the green parts kept separate and put aside, cooked, along with 2 chopped Keith’s Farm rocambole garlic cloves, over medium-high heat inside a large antique high-sided copper pot until the garlic had begun to color, or about 3 minutes, the remaining portion of a head of Chinese cabbage (8 ounces) from Norwich Meadows Farm, thinly sliced, stirred into the pot along with salt and pepper to taste and sautéed for about a minute, a few tablespoons of fresh water added and the contents of the pot cooked, tightly covered, until the cabbage was wilted (only seconds, or maybe up to a minute), the reserved cut green scallion sections now added and cooked, uncovered, stirring until most of the water had evaporated, or about one minute [these times will vary with the type and amount of cabbage], finished by stirring on less than a tablespoon of Columela Rioja 30 Year Reserva sherry vinegar
  • the wine was a terrific Portuguese (Douro) red, Quinta do Infantado, Douro Tinto 2015, from Flatiron Wines (and a really wonderful pairing with this entrée)
  • the music was the 2015 ECM album, ‘Mieczysław Weinberg: Chamber Symphonies; Piano Quintet’, Gidon Kremer directing the Kremerata Baltica

mullusk salad, mushroom pasta, shallot, celery, olive, pinoli

It was a great meal, with a good balance of flavors, textures, shapes, and colors. It was far better than I had anticipated, since it was pretty much arranged at the last moment.

It was also pretty carefree, since I had purchased the centerpieces of both courses already assembled.

The seafood salad purchased from a fisher’s stand at the Greenmarket can be tweaked in many ways, although so far I’ve not been very imaginative in presenting it..

  • eight ounces of a squid and conch salad, with olive oil, parsley, red pepper, and lemon juice, from P.E. & D.D. Seafood in the Union Square Greenmarket, made by Delores Karlin, the wife of Phil Karlin, the fisherman, drizzled with juice from an organic Chelsea Whole Foods Market lemon and a little sea salt, and freshly-ground black pepper, arranged in a bed of some very welcome local arugula (in January!) from Philipps Farms
  • slices from a loaf of bread from a Philadelphia bakery new to the Union Square market, Lost Bread Company‘s ‘Seedy Grains’ (wheat, spelt, rye, and barley organic bread flours; buckwheat; oats; flax sesame, sunflower, and pumpkin seeds; water, and salt)
  • the wine was an Italian (Sicily) white, Centopassi ‘Terre Rosse di Giabbascio’ Catarratto 2017, from Astor Wines

..and this delicious mushroom-filled ravioli is one of the most useful bases for improvising a meal that’s both tasty and easily assembled with ingredients available in the middle of a particularly-greens-starved winter.

  • ten ounces of Rana portobello mushroom-and-ricotta ravioli (filled rounds of thin pasta) from Eataly Flatiron, boiled al dente inside a large pot of well-salted water for 2 minutes, drained, slipped into a large high-sided vintage tin-lined copper pan in which one ‘yellow shallot’ from Norwich Meadows Farm, chopped sections of several small stalks of celery from Philipps Farms, and a pinch from a gorgeous dried hickory-smoked very hot Jamaican Scotch bonnet pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm had been briefly sautéed until the shallot and celery had softened a bit over a moderate flame in a tablespoon or so of olive oil, a bit of pasta water added along with the pasta and the mix stirred over a moderate to high flame until the liquid had emulsified, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, a dozen or so pitted kalamata olives from Buon Italia stirred in, a few chopped celery leaves and a bit of chopped parsley from Philipps Farm, tossed in, the contents of the pot then placed in shallow bowls and finished with a drizzle of olive oil around the edges, a sprinkling of toasted pine nuts, and a garnish of micro red mustard from Two guys from Woodbridge
  • the wine was an Italian (Piedmont/Albi) red, Barbera d’Alba, Oddero 2015, also from Astor Wines

 

coppa; alliums/lemon/caper-baked pollock, potatoes, kale

We love pollock.

Once I’ve arrive at whatever fish stall is in the greenmarket on any given day, if I haven’t focused on my choice right away, I’ll sometimes consult with Barry, slacking, asking what his preference might be, giving him a short list, or sending him an image of the menu board (the example above, showing relatively few choices, was from that day, a Monday, which is always slow). He suggested Pollock this time, because we both like it, because it’s still a great bargain, and because it had been a while since we’d had it.

It was also a nice excuse for serving the delicious coppa that remained in a package opened for a meal 2 days earlier.

  • two or three ounces of Giorgio’s coppa picante from Eataly Flatiron, drizzled with a little olive oil, Badia a Coltibuono (Chianti/Siena/Italy) from Chelsea Flatiron
  • sunflower shoots, from Windfall Farms, drizzled with the same Tuscan oil, a bit of juice from a local lemon grown by Fantastic Gardens of New Jersey, sea salt, and freshly-ground black pepper  (pic)
  • slices of Pain D’Avignon‘s ‘country sourdough bread’ from Foragers Market

While I was serving it, Barry called this entrée “classic James”, because something like it does manage to appear over and over again on this site: white fish/potato/something green.

  • one 18-ounce white-fleshed pollock fillet from P.E. & D.D. Seafood Company, rinsed, dried, seasoned on both sides with salt and pepper, placed skin side down inside a buttered oval tin-lined copper au gratin pan, dappled with a mixture of softened unsalted Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’ mixed with zest from most of an organic Whole Foods Market lemon, a little chopped rocambole garlic from Keith’s Farm, slices of a scallion from Phillips Farms, and part of a piece of a  crushed orange/gold home-dried Habanada pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm, baked for about 15 to 17 minutes at 350º, removed to 2 plates, the little bit of cooking juices that had accumulated poured over the top, and a teaspoon or so of Sicilian salted capers, which had first been rinsed, drained, and dried, then heated briefly inside a small antique enameled cast iron porringer in a bit of olive oil, scattered while still warm on top of the fillets, along with the oil in which they had been heated, the pollock finished with a garnish of micro red mustard from Two guys from Woodbridge
  • a few ounces of ‘pinto’ potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, scrubbed, boiled unpeeled in generously-salted water until barely cooked through, drained, halved, dried in the still-warm large vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot in which they had cooked, tossed with a little Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’, seasoned with salt and pepper, scattered with some chopped thyme (with some of the leaves purple) from Philipps Farms
  • several handfuls of a curly winter kale from Philipps Farms [winter kales are sturdier than their older cousins, which have disappeared from the market by January; they tend to not wilt down as much when sautéed, an attractive quality for the frugal cook, during a season when the farmers have justly to ask higher prices for this wonderful green; also, light frosts only make the leaves of this hybrid taste even sweeter, a treat for the diner], sautéed, until mostly wilted, in olive oil in which 2 bruised and halved Keith’s Farm rocambole garlic cloves had first been allowed to sweat and begin to brown, then seasoned with salt, pepper, and a little more olive oil

 

rye pasta, cabbage, anchovies, chilis, bay leaves, lovage

I see a bay leaf in a food photograph, or I see a bay leaf mentioned in a recipe, and I think ‘savory’; it’s not actually the definition of savory, it just happens to be the ingredient I most associate with the word.

This pasta was savory.

It started with Mark Bittman’s recipe for ‘Pasta with Savoy Cabbage. I mostly halved the ingredients he specified, and I used a very different pasta from the one he mentions.

  • in my version there were 8 ounces of Sfoglini rye trumpets (organic rye flour, organic durum semolina flour, water); 2 cloves of Keith’s Farm rocambole garlic, 2 bay leaves from Westside Market, 2 rinsed salted anchovies and half of a dried Calabrian peperoncino from Buon Italia; 8 ounces of shredded Chinese cabbage from Norwich Meadows Farm; a quarter cup of white wine; a bit of dried orange/golden habanada pepper; some chopped lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge; and I added a bit of olive oil around the pasta once it had been arranged in 2 shallow bowls
  • the wine was an Italian (Veneto) white, Pra, Soave Classico ‘OTTO’ 2017, from Flatiron Wines 

  • the music was a recording of Wagner’s first great success, his 1846-1847 opera, ‘Lohengrin’, which premiered in Weimar in 1850, under the direction of Franz Liszt, a close friend and early supporter [the composer wasn’t able to attend the first performance because he had been exiled for taking part in the failed revolution in Dresden the year before – see his wanted poster above], with Semyon Bychkov conducting the Cologne West German Radio Symphony Orchestra, the Prague Chamber Chorus, and the Cologne West German Radio Chorus

[the image of Wagner’s wanted poster is from Wikimedia Commons]

bacon and eggs breakfast with gram masala

I haven’t been posting our Sunday breakfasts lately, but this one was something of a revelation, so I decided to include it on the site. Looking for something out of our ordinary for seasoning our usual fried eggs, I pulled down from the shelf a small bottle of gram masala that I’d purchased last fall from Bombay Emerald Chutney Company in the Saturday Chelsea’s Down to Earth Farmers Market.

What is it? The food site epicurious.com describes it as the Indian equivalent of the French herbes de Provence or Chinese five-spice powder, adding that the ingredients vary by geography or culture, as well as whim. The two words together mean ‘hot’ and ‘a mixture of spices’, and while the spelling is usually ‘garam’, in Bengali it seems to be ‘gram’.

When I chose to sprinkle some on the eggs, I knew I wouldn’t have to include much else, except salt, but, unable to restrain myself, I added some chopped fresh rosemary anyway, to introduce something fresh and green; I figured it was an herb that wouldn’t fight the spices.

My point is that the eggs were not like any others we’ve had, and really wonderful, so this post, like all of them, is published fundamentally as a reminder for myself.

  • the ingredients were very fresh eggs from pastured chickens and bacon from pastured pigs, both from Millport Dairy Farm; one sliced Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomato’ from Chelsea Whole Foods Market warmed in a little house Whole Foods Portuguese olive oil; local (regional) Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’ placed to the side, for the toast, also from Whole Foods Market; chopped fresh purple thyme from Philipps Farms, sprinkled on the tomatoa couple pinches of gram masala from Bombay Emerald Chutney Company; chopped fresh rosemary leaves from Whole Foods Market; Maldon salt; freshly-ground black pepper; lightly toasted slices of Pain D’Avignon‘s ‘country sourdough bread’ from Foragers Market; and micro purple radish from Two Guys from Woodbridge
  • the music was the ECM album, ‘Valentin Silvestrov: Sacred Songs’

coppa; herb-roasted poussin, maple squash; red cabbage

Chicken. Except that it’s not just chicken. It’s poussin. It’s a French thing, although it had a German-American accent on Saturday night.

Poussin are almost unheard of in US food emporiums today, if they ever were, and I haven’t even been able to find them in the large New York greenmarket where I get almost all of our comestibles.

Inside my much-warn copy of her book, ‘Mastering the Art of French Cooking’, Julia Child says that ‘squab chicken’, or ‘baby broiler’, was the American equivalent for the French poussin, or coquelet, (a young male chicken, because females, well, are more valuable alive, as with most domestic animals) but she wrote more than half a century ago, when you might have still been able to spot unusual items even in a grocery store (I know, since my first job was stock/bag boy in our local little supermarket, Nino’s, on Detroit’s far east side, well before she wrote the book, and they had almost everything).

Which brings me to the birds we enjoyed last night. I had noticed on a previous visit to Ottomanelli & Sons, on Bleecker Street in the Village, that they had frozen poussin inside the freezer in the front part of the shop; our own freezer was full, so I made a mental note to go back after the holidays. A gift of a special wine from a friend inspired an occasion. When I was there on Friday to find something to pair with the Cote de Beaune, I learned that they had unfrozen birds as well. The outlines of Saturday’s dinner had just come together.

There was an appetizer that was definitely a northern Italian diversion.

  • two or three ounces of Giorgio’s coppa picante from Eataly Flatiron, drizzled with a little olive oil, Badia a Coltibuono (Chianti Siena Italia) from Chelsea Flatiron
  • micro red chard from Two guys from Woodbridge
  • slices of a loaf of ‘Seedy Grains’ from Philadelphia’s Lost Bread Company in the Union Square Greenmarket

The rest of the meal, roasted squash, sunflower sprouts, braised red cabbage, shifted most of the vibe still further from France, but we kept the Burgundy wine.

  • two 20-ounce local poussin (Griggstown Quali Farm, Inc., Princeton, NJ) from Ottomanelli’s in the West Village, rinsed under cold running water, then dried, brought to room temperature, their cavities first seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper then rubbed with a very small amount of olive oil before inserting inside each an organic Whole Foods Market lemon quarter, 2 small sprigs of Goodness Gardens thyme from the Chelsea Whole Foods Market; 2 sprigs of oregano from Philipps Farms; 2 sprigs of a Mexican-grown (my mistake: I misread its origin on the label) Goodness Gardens tarragon, also from Chelsea Whole Foods Market; and one crushed Keith’s Farm rocambole garlic clove, then the skin carefully loosened from the breast of both poussin, a sprig each of thyme, oregano, and tarragon inserted between it and the breast itself, half a tablespoon of Courvoisier V.S. cognac spooned into the same breast pockets, the birds trussed with kitchen string and each arranged on top of a thick piece of a She Wolf Bakery miche inside a small oval enameled cast iron pan, roasted inside a 500º oven for about 45 minutes, or until an instant-read thermometer piercing the center of a thigh registered 165º, or, alternatively, when the juices ran clear if a thigh were pierced with a trussing pin or needle, arranged on the plates still sitting on top of the (now dar, toasted and very savory) bread, finished with the pan juices, after the addition of a couple tablespoons of butter were stirred in along with the few herb leaves that hadn’t made it inside of the birds earlier, poured over the top
  • a small handful of sunflower sprouts from Windfall Farms
  • two very small ‘honeynut squash’ from Samascott Orchards, scrubbed, halved, the seeds removed, placed cut-side up in a baking dish, and a mix of almost 2 tablespoons of maple syrup, an equal amount of fresh water, the zest and juice of less than half of a lemon, a bit of dried habanada pepper, and a pinch each of salt and black pepper brushed or poured over the top, the surfaces dotted with less than 2 tablespoons of softened butter and placed inside a 375º oven to be baked for 15 or 20 minutes, the squash then flipped over and the cooking continued, basting halfway through that period, until caramelized and tender, or about 20 more minutes [all of this was completed before roasting the poussin, in a much hotter, 500º oven, the squash kept warm and returned to the oven briefly while the birds and their sauce were finished outside], arranged on the plates where their hollows served essentially as edible sauce boats for their pan juices
  • a quantity of rich, complex-flavored cooked red cabbage that had remained from an earlier meal, of venison, a bit of fresh water added to it, heated gently and stirred
  • the wine was a pretty special French (Burgundy/Volnay) red, Michel Lafarge – Volnay 2013, from Chelsea Wine Vault

There was no dessert (just look at the picture of the generous entrée for cause), but we did share a little grappa that had been sitting around the apartment for years.

 

 

sea bass with tarragon; sunflower sprouts; roasted carrots

One and a half fillets, fried perfectly this time.

Normally I insist on an even number when there are 2 of us, but this time there were 3 fillets, weighing exactly one pound. I was aiming for about a pound of fish, but my only other choices for a divisor for two people would have been 2 fillets for 10.5 ounces, of 4 for 19.5 ounces. I decided I could  halve one of the 3 without sacrificing the plate aesthetic, and that’s what I Went with.

I got the color right (what looks like carbonized areas were not, just more intense), but the most important thing is always the flavor; I include texture in that noun, and this time I really scored: The bass was delicious, and the skin was crisp. I’ve now borrowed Hank Shaw’s technique several times, from his piece, ‘Perfect Seared Fish‘, and I think I’m getting the hang of it.

There was also a brief drama, when the oil I was using, which has a relatively low flash point, caught fire inside the pan and I had to blow out the flame – 3 times.

  • before the main course we nibbled on some extraordinarily delicious farm-made potato chips (Kennebec potatoes, sea salt, rice bran oil) from Rick Bishop’s Mountain Sweet Berry Farm in Roscoe, New York

And then there was the fish.

  • three 5-ounce striped bass filets from Pura Vida Seafood Company removed from the refrigerator, salted a little, allowed to rest at room temperature for almost half an hour, the skin sides then scraped with a butter knife to remove excess moisture, both sides patted with a paper towel until thoroughly dry, after which, once a seasoned steel pan had been heated above a high flame, a tablespoon or a little more of Mac Nut macademia nut oil from Chelsea Whole Foods Market was poured into the pan, being careful to avoid spilling any oil onto the flame below the pan [see above], then, holding the handle, swirled to cover the bottom and heat the oil in the process, the 3 filets placed skin side down inside the pan, immediately jiggled to ensure that the fish doesn’t stick, the top or flesh side of the filets quickly seasoned with sea salt, to taste, the heat turned down to medium-high, the filets pressed down lightly with a spatula for 30 to 60 seconds, to ensure that the skin browns evenly and the fillets don’t curl, cooked without moving them for 3 or 4 minutes, and, because these fillets were small, either constantly spooning the hot oil over the flesh side until the meat turned opaque, or, once their outside edges had cooked, turning the fillets over for a minute or two to finish their cooking, the fish removed to a warm platter and the heat turned off altogether, a couple tablespoons of a rich butter swirled into the pan so it melted swiftly, a tablespoon of fresh tarragon from Whole Foods Market added and pushed around, the pan tilted, the sauce scraped to the bottom and poured onto the plates, the filets then placed on top of the sauce
  • a small handful of sunflower sprouts from Windfall Farms
  • a mix of small red Kyoto carrots and more familiar loose orange carrots, both from Norwich Meadows Farm, scrubbed and dried, tossed inside a bowl with a little olive oil, salt, black pepper, more than half of a teaspoon of crushed Italian fennel seed, and a bit of crushed dried habanada pepper, arranged inside a large unglazed ceramic Pampered Chef oven pan, roasted at 400º for about 30 minutes, or until tender, arranged on the plates and garnished with micro purple radish from Two Guys from Woodbridge
  • slices of a ‘Seedy Grains’ loaf from Philadelphia’s Lost Bread Company, whose ingredients are wheat, spelt, rye, and barley organic bread flours; buckwheat; oats; and 4 seeds (flax, sesame, sunflower, and pumpkin); water, and salt

There was a small cheese course, but I didn’t photograph it this time.

  • two excellent cheeses, a new one, still in development, a washed rind buffalo milk from Riverine Ranch, something like a German Munster or Danish havarti; and their classic medium-firm goat cheese, ‘Manchester’, from Consider Bardwell Farm
  • lightly-toasted very thin slices of Lost Bread Company’s ‘Seedy Grains’

 

scallops, thyme; garlic/oregano-roasted tomatoes; arugula

It was late January, but last night’s dinner looked more like summer, thanks to the creativity of our local producers (everything, except for the tomatoes, came from area fields and waters). The delicious large cherry tomatoes came from Maine, which, as an adopted New Englander, I think of as almost local (at least it’s not as far away as the tomato factories in Mexico, California, Florida, or Israel).

  • twelve large sea scallops from American Seafood Company, washed, drained, and very thoroughly dried on paper towels (twice), generously seasoned with sea salt and fresh;y-ground black pepper, pan grilled for about 90 seconds on each side, arranged on warm plates, finished with a squeeze of a local lemon, a very sweet small fruit from one of the greenhouses of Fantastic Gardens of Long Island in the Union Square Greenmarket, a scattering of chopped fresh local Goodness Gardens thyme from Orange County, NY, via Chelsea Whole Foods Market, and a drizzle of olive oil
  • ten Maine cherry ‘cocktail’ tomatoes from Whole Foods, slow-roasted inside a small seasoned Pampered Chef oven pan after they had been rolled in olive oil, with a generous amount of dried oregano from Norwich Meadows Farm, and 8 tiny, slightly-smashed rocambole garlic cloves from Keith’s Farm
  • almost 2 handfuls of a great arugula from Philipps Farms, washed thoroughly, drained and dried, dressed with a small drizzle of a house Portuguese olive oil from Whole Foods Market, a bit of Maldon salt, black pepper [and, had I remembered to add it, a few drops of a Napa Valley red wine (‘Chianti’) vinegar]
  • there were some delicious juices on the plates, so I jumped at the opportunity to include slices of a really delicious bread from a Philadelphia bakery new to the Union Square market, ‘Seedy Grain’ from Lost Bread Company (wheat, spelt, rye, and barley organic bread flours; buckwheat; oats; flax sesame, sunflower, and pumpkin seeds; water, and salt)

Note the pretzel sticks on the upper right in the picture below: they’re a reminder of the persistence of Philadelphia’s – and Pennsylvania’s – German heritage, which began more than 300years ago.