It’s just pasta, supposedly, and the ingredients are virtually identical to so many others but, through the mystery of shape, terroir, process, and tradition, croxetti never tastes like any other.

We’ve enjoyed it at home several times, but not in the form we enjoyed last night. I didn’t know what exactly to expect, but I wasn’t disappointed.

• four ounces of Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter, melted over medium heat inside, ideally, a medium non-reactive pan, gently swirling until the butter had begun to turn golden brown, or about 5 minutes, one whole section, crushed, of a golden orange dried habanada pepper then added, followed by a fourth of a cup or more of pine nuts (pinoli) which had earlier been scattered on a small metal baking sheet and toasted inside a 325º oven for about 15 minutes, about half a teaspoon of sea salt, a bit of freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, and half of a 2 tablespoon mixture of fresh oregano from Lani’s Farm and parsley from Whole Foods, both chopped, the sauce tossed with 8 ounces of a package of Genovese Alta Valle Scrivia Croxetti from Eataly, the mix stirred over a low to medium flame with some reserved pasta water to emulsify it, then arranged inside 2 shallow bowls, a bit of olive oil drizzled around the edges, and topped with a small amount of Parmigiano-Reggiano Vache Rosse from Eataly before it was sprinkled with the remaining chopped herbs
• the wine was a California (Sonoma) white, Jacqueline Bahue Carte Blanche Sauvignon Blanc Sonoma Valley 2016, from Naked Wines
• the music was chamber music by Vagn Holmboe (1909-1996), performed by Ensemble MidtVest

I’m probably never going to understand why squid are not way up at the top of the scale when it comes to popularity, for their taste alone. When cooked with some sensitivity, they are one of the most delicious seafood forms around, and they really need very little embellishment. They’re also completely sustainable, and I think they’re available all over the world, anywhere people might be settled near an ocean.

They’re also apparently very intelligent, but I’m not sure where that fits into this discussion, especially since the only foods we consume that weren’t once a part of a living thing are salt and water.

Squid are definitely among the least expensive delicacies in a fish market, which I suppose might only represent their abundance, and not the disdain of the consumer, but I still wonder about their modest popularity index.

This particular batch, together with the success I had in cooking them, may have been my best experience with this cephalopod, ever.

I suppose the image below, showing how I arranged a pound of squid on a plate after having dried them thoroughly, just before I placed them in 2 oven pans, might say something about how I feel about these creatures.

The spinach, which had somehow been overwintered in the middle of New Jersey, even without the ‘high cave’ protection which has ensured so many loyal Greenmarket habitués a supply of green vegetables since the end of the so-called ‘growing season’, was impossibly sweet.

• two large rectangular enameled cast iron pans heated on top of the stove until quite hot, their cooking surfaces then brushed with olive oil, and once the oil was also quite hot, one pound of rinsed and carefully dried squid from Blue Moon Seafood in the Union Square Greenmarket, mostly bodies but a few tentacles, divided between the two in being quickly arranged inside the pans, immediately sprinkled with some super-pungent dried Sicilian oregano from Buon Italia, part of one dried Sicilian pepperoncino, also from Buon Italia, and an entire section of a home-dried heatless, orange/gold Habanada pepper (purchased fresh from Norwich Meadows Farm last fall), some sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, followed by a drizzle of a few tablespoons of juice from a local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, and some olive oil, the pan placed inside a pre-heated 400º oven and roasted for 5 minutes, removed, the squid distributed onto 2 plates, ladled with a bit of their cooking juices, after they had been transferred to a sauce pitcher, scattered with a little micro bronze fennel from Two Guys from Woodbridge, and served with halves of another, tiny local lemon-lime served on the side of each plate
• a generous amount of very sweet overwintered (I was told not in a ‘high cave’) spinach from Lani’s Farm, washed in several changes of water, drained, very gently wilted (that is, not reduced too far) inside a large enameled cast iron pot in a little olive oil in which one 2 cloves of garlic from John D. Madura Farm, quartered, had first been allowed to sweat, then seasoned with salt, freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, a little of the dried Sicilian pepperoncino, drizzled with olive oil and a little sweet local lemon juice from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island
• the wine was an Italian (Campania) white, Cantina di Lisandro Alabranno Fiano 2015, from Chelsea Wine Vault
• the music was Louis-Nicolas Clérambault’s 1706 pastorale, ‘Le Triomphe D’iris’, performed by Hervé Niquet conducting Le Concert Spirituel

An antipasto doesn’t get much more simple than this, and the primi was only a little more elaborate.

Both pretty Italian, they seemed made for each other on a cool evening.

The salume was actually American (although not local), and, as always with this product, really good! The recipe (which was local) that I used for the pasta was also, technically, American: Mark Bittman’s ‘Linguine With Walnuts And Anchovies’. My only alterations were these:  using a pasta that I already had; introducing a bit of a heatless dark dried pepper to the sauce; and garnishing it with the last of a wonderful ‘micro ‘green’ that still remained in the refrigerator yesterday.

• three ounces of La Quercia Prosciutto Americano from Whole Foods, drizzled with a  little good Campania olive oil (Lamparelli O.R.O.)
• served with slices of a Bien Cuit baguette from Foragers Market

 

• the pasta was Afeltra spaghetto, from Eataly; the shelled walnuts from Whole Foods; the garlic was from John D. Madura Farms; the red pepper was less than half of one dried Itria-Sirissi chili, peperoncino di Sardegna intero from Buon Italia; the heatless pepper was a home-dried, dark mahogany in color Habanada (which had been purchased fresh from Norwich Meadows Farm last fall); the 4 large Agostino Recca salted Sicilian anchovies, which were rinsed well and filleted, were from Buon Italia, in the Chelsea Market; and the garnish was micro red amaranth from Windfall Farms

 

• the wine throughout was a southern Italian (Campania) white, Feudi Di San Gregorio Falanghina 2014
• the music was also Italian, or perhaps more precisely, Sicilian, composed by Palermo-born Salvatore Sciarrino; there were 2 works: ‘Un’ immagine d’Arpocrate‘, with pianist Tamara Stefanovich, Susanna Mälkki conducting the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, and Florian Helgath directing Chorwerk Ruhr; and ‘Giono velato presso il lago nero‘, with violinist Carolin Widmann, Jonathan Nott conducting the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra

 

I had some problem transferring the fillets onto the plates intact this time (although the image may suggest it was more serious than it actually was), but the sauce and the garnish disguised a multitude of irregularities, and the tastiness of the flounder made me forget there had been any difficulty.

I had four purchased flounder fillets at the Greenmarket, and I prepared them along the lines of a David Tanis recipe I had cut out of the New York Times in 2012. I hadn’t used it in some time, but the wild spring garlic I had in the refrigerator suggested a revisit.

Two excellent ‘spring vegetables’ shared the bill Monday night.

• four 4-ounce flounder fillets from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, seasoned with salt and pepper on both sides, coated lightly with flour (I used North Country Farms Stone Ground Whole Wheat Flour), submerged in a shallow bowl containing a whipped mixture of 1/3 cup of milk, one large egg from Millport Dairy, and a pinch of salt, placed inside a large enameled cast iron pan once a generous amount of olive oil began to look wavy, fried until golden, about two minutes for each side, removed, transferred onto two warm plates;  the heat below the pan now lower, 3 tablespoons of butter were added and melted, followed by about a quarter cup of mild wild spring garlic from Lani’s Farm, chopped quite small, salt, and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, these elements allowed to cook together without browning, for about one minute, then more than one tablespoon of sweet local lemon juice from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island were added and the sauce stirred before it was spooned over the fillets, which were garnished with micro red amaranth from Windfall Farms
• six small Yukon Gold potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, boiled in generously-salted water, drained, dried in the pan, cut in half, rolled in olive oil, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-chopped pepper, and scattered with chopped lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• a mix of young overwintered kale and collards from Norwich Meadows Farm, some having to be torn in half (and the stems were tender enough to include in the cooking), 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, wilted inside a heavy oval enameled cast iron pot in which 2 halved garlic cloves from John D. Madura Farm had first been allowed to sweat in a bit of olive oil, a little crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia along with them, the greens finished with a little salt, freshly-ground pepper, a bit of sweet local lemon juice from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a New Zealand (South Island) white, Frenzy Sauvignon Blanc 2016, from Phillippe Wines
• the music was the 1770 version of Lully’s 1682 opera, ‘Persée’ (3 composers, Antoine Dauvergne, François Rebel and Bernard de Bury, were commissioned to revise the popular, almost 100-year-old work and adapt it to new circumstances, the wedding of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette), performed here in a brand-new recording, Hervé Niquet conducting Le Concert Spirituel

The little steaks were tri-tips, already one of the most flavorful of beef cuts. These 2 were 100% grass-fed, apparently a very important distinction for many people, but one which I have not yet been able to fully grasp. I do know that they were delicious, possibly more ‘meaty’ than most we’ve had in the past, may have been more lean than we would normally have expected, and they seemed to take a bit less time to cook (ending up very slightly less rare than we would normally prefer, but definitely not a disappointment).

The diminutive size of the potatoes didn’t suggest to me they’d have much sophistication, but they turned out to be really tasty. Some of their personality may have been stimulated by the 2 forms of dried habanada pepper with the seasoned olive oil and rosemary leaves in which they were tossed before they went into the oven.

The chard was amazingly sweet and absolutely delicious. I had tasted it raw at the farmer’s stand, so I know it would have been terrific even if I hadn’t added other elements to the dish.

• two juicy tri-tip steaks (each barely 7 ounces) from Maple Avenue Farms, via Mike at the Sun Fed Beef Meats stall in the Union Square Greenmarket, brought to room temperature, dried and sprinkled generously with some freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper on both sides, pan-grilled for a few minutes, turning twice (sprinkled with sea salt the first and second time), removed to 2 plates, a little sweet local lemon juice from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island squeezed on top, sprinkled with some chopped rosemary leaves from Eataly, then drizzled with a little olive oil
• some tiny nutty fingerling potatoes from Phillips Farm, washed, scrubbed, tossed with sea salt, freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, and a little of both forms of dried habanera pepper (mostly the orange-golden), arranged on a medium Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic oven pan, roasted at 375º for about 20 minutes, tossed with some chopped lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge, stirred a bit on the pan, then arranged on the plates with a garnish of a little more lovage
• chard from Norwich Meadows Farm, wilted in a little olive oil in which one large halved garlic clove from John D. Madeira Farm and a pinch of some crushed dried dried Itria-Sirissi chili, peperoncino di Sardegna intero, from Buon Italia had been heated, finished with a squeeze of juice from the same local lemon used on the steak and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a California (Sierra Foothills) red, F. Stephen Millier Black Label Cabernet Sauvignon California 2015

Maybe because the weather seemed to have finally turned (as I type this the next day, the birds are chattering like crazy outside my open window), we had a frozen dessert, probably for the first time since last summer.

• a simple scoop of Talenti Vanilla Bean Gelato (“hand-scraped [Madagascar] vanilla beans” ) from Whole Foods

• the music throughout was Jean-Baptiste Lully’s gorgeous 1686 tragédie en musique, ‘Armide’, Christophe Rousset conducting  Les Talens Lyriques and Le Chœur de chambre de Namur

The antipasto came after the pasta; well, the selection came after, but we kept the classic order. The smoky-paprika-rubbed lomo seemed a pretty appropriate introduction for what I expected would be a somewhat earthy primi, and it was (earthy, and appropriate).

• two ounces of thin slices of La Quercia Lomo, lonza di maiale stagionata) from Whole Foods, served with a bit of upland cress from Two Guys from Woodbridge, both pork and cress drizzled with a very small amount of a very good Campania olive oil (Lamparelli O.R.O.)
• slices of a small loaf of ciabatta from Hot Bread Kitchen

 

We love our local Sfoglini pasta, and when I’m at the Union Square Greenmarket I regularly check out their current line at the Greenmarket Regional Grains Project stall (I also watch for a small display at the stalls of farmers whose produce may have gone into one of them). When I spotted the package of their Bronx brewery BxB radiators in their market home ‘store’ I had to pick up a package.  The description on the label read, “spent grain from Bronx Rye Pale Ale, which is comprised of five different barley malts, resulting in a roasted barley finish”.  That sounded awesome to me.

It fulfilled both of our expectations.

I wanted to keep the pasta relatively unembellished, at least in order to check out the new flavor, so I kept the additions to a minimum. One of the most important, aside from the obligatory dried habanada, was a portion of a small stash of wild garlic.

• 8 ounces of Sfoglini Pasta Shop‘s Bronx brewery BxB radiators (“spent grain from Bronx Rye Pale Ale, which is comprised of five different barley malts, resulting in a roasted barley finish”, according to the maker), carefully boiled to ‘safe territory’, that is, something between ‘too hard’ and ‘too mushy’ (Barry, master pasta cook, tells me that it may not be possible to get the Sfoglini varieties which include exceptional ingredients precisely to an al dente moment), drained and tossed inside a large enameled cast iron pot in which a simple sauce had been created by warming some of tiny wild garlic bulbs, with their even tinier stems, all chopped, from Lani’s Farm, and a bit of crushed orange-golden dried Habanada pepper, the mix stirred over a low to medium flame, along with some reserved pasta water to emulsify it, seasoned with a little salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, divided into 2 shallow bowls, a little olive oil drizzled around the edges of the pasta, then only a small amount of Parmigiano-Reggiano Vache Rosse from Eataly grated over the top, garnished with a little micro red amaranth from Windfall Farms

 

• the wine was an Italian (Umbria) white, Arnaldo Caprai Grecante Grechetto dei Colli Martani 2015, from Chelsea Wine Vault
• the music was the album ‘Guerre & Paix’ [War & Peace/Guerra & Paz], Jordi Savall directing Le Concert des Nations and La Capella Reial de Catalunya

 

 

 

I vary the ingredients each week, but very dramatically (it’s effectively morning for us, so there’s not a lot of ready imagination before I start cooking). This time, except for some refrigerator-dried cut chive, I left the alliums out entirely, and, except for a tiny bit of cooked tomato juices I had been keeping since the previous Sunday breakfast, there were no tomatoes.

There seemed to be even more rich flavor than usual however, the eggs in particular, while their yolks may look a bit less spectacular than they might (the farmer’s free-range hens must have been very happy last week).

• what there was this morning were eggs and bacon from Millport Dairy Farm, the eggs dusted with a little dried dark habanada pepper, Maldon salt, freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper, chopped thyme from Eataly, chopped lovage from Two Guys from Woodbridge, and, at the end, a bit of some juices left from a breakfast the week before (made by heating Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods in a little olive oil, adding a little thyme from Eataly, salt, and freshly-ground pepper), served on 2 plates with a sprinkling of dried chives from Phillips Farm
• there was light toast, of slices from a small ciabatta and a small ‘El Bario whole wheat’, both from Hot Bread Kitchen
• the music was Haydn’s ‘Die Schöpfung‘ [The Creation], René Jacobs
  conducting the Freiburg Baroque Orchestra and the Berlin RIAS Chamber Chorus

We love mackerel, and I’ve cooked it often. These were definitely the biggest fillets I’ve ever grilled; I was grateful that we weren’t eating off of the 8-inch creamware plates I had used in the Providence house for years.

These large fillets were perfectly fresh, made a great presentation, especially since I got them to the plates without their coming apart (even the skin remained fully attached), and I managed to cook them to a perfect doneness.

It’s been a long time since I’d included the potato part of the basic recipe I’ve been using for years.  It was only after I had decided to do so that I realized I didn’t have any variety that would seem suitable for ‘twice-cooking’. I went with what I had, a dark blue sort-of-fingerling type.  They worked perfectly, tasted great, and looked pretty dramatic.

• two 8-ounce Spanish mackerel fillets from Pura Vida Seafood, washed, dried, brushed with olive oil, seasoned with salt and freshly-ground black pepper, pan grilled on both sides on top of a cast iron 2-burner plate over high heat for 7 minutes, skin side down first, removed and completed with a salsa consisting of 7 quartered Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods tossed with olive oil, wild brined capers which had been rinsed and drained, juice from a sweet local lemon from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, salt, and pepper, and sprinkled with a mix of chopped lime basil and oregano from Lani’s Farm
• ten ounces of small-ish ‘blue potatoes’ (which are dark blue inside too, and stay so after cooking) from Norwich Meadows Farm, washed, scrubbed, boiled – unpeeled – until tender (about 15-20 minutes), drained, allowed to cool slightly before being cut into thirds, cooked, stirring occasionally, with a tablespoon of olive oil inside an already warmed tin-lined copper skillet, the flame immediately turned to high heat, until lightly browned in spots (that is, if you can tell), I’d say for about 5 minutes, the heat turned way down and one large clove of garlic from John D. Madura Farm added and cooked until crisp, or for about 3 more minutes, seasoned with Maldon sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper
• the wine was a California (Lodi) rosé, Karen Birmingham Rose Lodi 2016, from Naked Wines
• the music was a portion of the multi-CD album, ‘Music of Morocco: Recorded by Paul Bowles, 1959‘; by way of explanation, immediately before dinner we had watched ‘Morocco’ the 1930 Josef von Sternberg classic, starring Gary Cooper, Marlene Dietrich, and Adolphe Menjou (and it was even far better than I had expected!)

This is one of the easiest meals I get to put together, and I do something like it pretty often. It’s easy because the recipes are simple, because I’ve assembled each of them a number of times, and, it’s even easier this time because one of the 3 things on the plate had been prepared earlier – 5 days earlier in fact, as a part of another meal.

The finish for the pork chops this time might be the most spectacular garnish I’ve ever used, at least on this dish, red amaranth, here, while still at the Greenmarket, looking a bit like a map of the Iberian peninsula.

The green was a very sweet (late winter/early spring?) bunch of very sweet, tender collards.

This is a grainy blowup from the earlier appearance of the inguazato, which at that time included monkfish tails.

• two small pork chops (8 ounces each) from Flying Pigs Farm, thoroughly dried, seasoned well with salt and freshly-ground pepper, seared quickly on both sides inside a heavy enameled cast-iron pan (a small amount of a dried orange-golden habanada pepper added as each side was sealed), then half of an organic lemon squeezed over the top and left in the pan between the chops, the pan placed in a 425º oven for about 14 minutes (flipped halfway through, at which time the lemon was squeezed over them once again and replaced between them), removed from the oven and arranged on plates, the really luscious scant pan juices spooned over the meat, which was finished with a flourish of red micro amaranth from Windfall Farms
• a serving of a couscous dish, chef David Pasternack’s ‘inguazata’, a precious leftover from this meal [the recipe can be found through a link of that page], enjoyed earlier in the week
• collard greens from Lani’s Farm, torn into small sections (the stems were tender enough to include in the cooking), 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, wilted inside a heavy oval enameled cast iron pot in which 2 halved garlic cloves from John D. Madura Farm had first been allowed to sweat in a bit of olive oil, a little crushed dried Sardinian pepperoncino from Buon Italia along with them, the greens finished with a little salt, freshly-ground pepper, a bit of sweet local lemon juice from Fantastic Gardens of Long Island, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a California (Sonoma) white, Jacqueline Bahue Carte Blanche Sauvignon Blanc Sonoma Valley 2016, from Naked Wines
• the music was Marin Marais’ 1789 opera, ‘Sémélé’, Hervé Niquet conducting Le Concert Spirituel

Great, great stuff. As delicious as it looks.

The cod was very fresh, and very sweet, as were the potatoes and the gorgeous micro amaranth.

I didn’t have enough of any one kind of potato to produce a dish I’ve made many times before, and each of the 2 varieties I ended up using was considerably smaller than any I’d ever used. Also, I inadvertently used more olive oil to bake the potatoes than I should have.

So they weren’t big, and they didn’t turn out crispy, but they were really luscious.

I don’t have an image of the tiny fingerlings, but here are the small Carola, still at the farmer’s stand, in a light rain.

Also, because I think potatoes always look so good, here are both kinds, tossed, with seasonings, inside the largest of a nest of vintage Pyrex bowls,

and inside a glazed Terracotta dish, on their way into the oven.

• one 17-ounce fillet of cod from Blue Moon Seafood Company in the Union Square Greenmarket, prepared more or less from a recipe from Mark Bittman which I originally came across 12 years ago: the cod washed and rinsed, placed on an ironstone platter on a bed of coarse sea salt, more added on top, until it was completely covered, set aside while preparing a bed of potatoes for them by slicing to a thickness of less than 1/4 inch, about 11 ounces of 2 kinds of potatoes, scrubbed but unpeeled, some small Carola potatoes from Lucky Dog Organic Farm and a slightly less amount of tiny fingerlings from Phillips Farm, tossing them in a large bowl with a tablespoon of olive oil, salt, pepper, and a large pinch of golden home-dried Habanada pepper [acquired fresh last fall from Norwich Meadows Farm], arranging the potatoes, slightly overlapping, in a rectangular glazed ceramic oven dish, cooking them for 20 or 25 minutes in a 400º oven, or until they were tender when pierced, meanwhile, before the potatoes had fully cooked, the cod was thoroughly immersed in many changes of water for about 15 minutes in order to bring down the saltiness (incidentally the soaking process somehow gives the fish more solidity, which can be easily felt while handling it at this point), divided in half, drained and dried before being placed inside the pan on top of the potatoes, skin side down, drizzled with a little olive oil, some freshly-ground pepper scattered over the top, returned to the oven for 8 to 12 minutes more (the time would depend on the thickness of the cod), removed from the dish with a broad spatula, along with as much of the potatoes as can be brought along with each piece, everything arranged on two plates as intact as possible, followed by the remainder of the potatoes, splashy red micro amaranth from Windfall Farms scattered over the top

The mustard greens were phenomenal, and gorgeous resting on the farmer’s stand.

• frizzy purple mustard greens from Bodhitree Farm, wilted inside a large enameled cast iron pot in a little olive oil in which 2 cloves of  garlic from John D. Madura Farm, halved, had been allowed to sweat, seasoned with salt, pepper, and a very small amount of crushed dried Sicilian pepperoncino from Buon Italia, finished on the plates with a drizzle of juice from a sweet local lemon (Fantastic Gardens of Long Island), and a bit of olive oil
• the wine was a California (Lodi) white, David Akiyoshi Reserve Chardonnay 2015
• the music was Vivaldi’s 1726 opera, ‘Il Farnace’, in an extraordinarily beautiful performance led by Jordi Savall; it was at least our second hearing, not counting this one, from over 12 years ago, in which Vivaldi’s music accompanies Muntean/Rosenblum’s ‘It Is Never Facts That Tell’, the collaborative’s digital projection of a great world emptied and reduced to an enormous landfill, achingly beautiful, even without the music which accompanies its hooded figures