I have so many deep personal associations with every aspect of the chestnut tree that I don’t even mind that the nuts themselves are the dickens to prepare.

These were in the stall of Keith’s Farm today, three nuts inside their burr in the picture at the top, baskets of nuts for sale below.

The antipasto included the lamb that remained from an earlier meal, now at room temperature, more mellow and sweet than when it had just been cooked and still warm (for what it is worth, the little roast was too small to allow me to make neat thin slices, so it looks rather chopped up here).

• lamb, from a roast prepared the previous Sunday, here served at room temperature, sliced as thinly as I could manage, leaning on a simple salad of romaine lettuce from Shushan Hydroponic and small arugula leaves from Alewife Farm, the greens dressed with a good Umbrian olive oil, Luciana Cerbini Casa Gola from Buon Italia (which was also drizzled over the lamb), a white balsamic vinegar, salt, and pepper, accompanied by slices of pane di comune from Sullivan Street Bakery

 

The primi was not followed by a secundi, but on its own it was certainly up to the challenge presented by the salad which preceded it.  It was a pretty sturdy chestnut pasta which was sauced with mushrooms and, in an homage to the lamb in the salad, a bit of the intense gravy that had been produced by its preparation earlier in the week.

• eight ounces of Sfoglini chestnut fusilli (organic semolina flour, chestnut flour, water) cooked until al dente, served with a mushroom sauce composed of chopped golden oyster mushrooms from Blue Oyster Cultivation, cooked until soft in a large tin-lined heavy copper pan with a little bit of rich ‘Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter‘, minced ’Picasso’ (very strong) shallots from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm and minced garlic from John D. Madura Farm and some chopped thyme from Stokes Farm added to the mushrooms and cooked until fragrant and soft, at which time another tablespoon or two of butter was added, and, once melted, a tablespoon of coarse stone-ground flour introduced and stirred to make something of a paste, before a third of a cup of white wine slowly poured into the pan while being slowly stirred with a rubber whisk, cooked until the mix thickens, chopped parsley from Eataly and chopped lovage from Windfall Farms stirred in, before adding a little more than a tablespoon of concentrated genuinely-spicy self-sauce (gravy) rendered from a lamb roast cooked days before, the whole mix seasoned with salt and pepper before the cooked pasta was turned into the pan and mixed with the sauce, the completed dish served in 2 bowls, with grated ‘Parmigiano Reggiano Bonat 3’ from Buon Italia sprinkled over the top, before adding some micro fennel greens from Alewife Farm

(fennel micro greens, the final touch)

 

• the wine for both courses was an Oregon (Willamette Valley) red, Spindrift Cellars Pinot Noir Willamette Valley 2013
• the music was Agostino Steffani’s ‘Niobe Regina Di Tebe’, in a performance by the Balthasar-Neumann Ensemble, conducted by Thomas Hengelbrock

I had seen the little display of vacuum-wrapped Guinea fowl at the stand in the Union Square Greenmarket a number of times before, but it was only a few weeks ago that I finally asked about them.  They were lying on the table inside Lucky Dog Organic‘s stall.  Rich Giles told me that they were grown and packaged by his farmer neighbor, Jennifer Grossman.  Their farms are in the Catskills.  I was intrigued, partly because of the relative novelty of the bird in this part of the world now (I hadn’t enjoyed Guinea fowl myself in years, although I  knew its virtues), and because I knew the meat was at least slightly more gamey than chicken.  I was also attracted to the birds because I generally try to encourage, buy, and enjoy local meat and fish almost as much as I do local vegetables and fruit.

The weight of the birds being sold on Saturday varied a bit, but they were all the same price, an amount I thought reasonable considering the circumstances of their raising; I picked the largest package;  it was just under three pounds.  There were two of us for dinner; we had leftovers.

A personal remembrance:  Many years ago in South Africa, I frequently saw Guinea fowl in the mixed farm and savanna areas of the Transvaal and the Orange Free State.  Those regular sightings, like the perennial red earth of the Transvaal itself, so utterly different from the Midwest and the New England of my experience, as well as the flies the size of a dormouse, and the Long-Tailed Widowbird, I found all entirely exotic.  The Guinea fowl were particularly sweet and beautiful, because of their movement on the ground, and their checked plumage, but I had rarely brought one to my own table, and certainly not for many years.

I probably worried too much about how and for how long I was going to cook the bird this time, although I had a reasonable concern about it being ready at the same time as the sweet potatoes I would also be roasting.  I didn’t worry about the ‘purples’ (‘greens’), since the very sweet kale could be prepared ahead and reheated, or even left at room temperature.   Then, while researching the possibilities the night before our Sunday dinner, I remembered that I had some cooked chestnuts in the freezer, from, well, I don’t know how far back.  I decided it was time, also an appropriate time, to use them, so I defrosted them.  The next day, both the manner and order of the rest of the meal’s cooking eventually fell into place, and the chestnuts became an integral part of it.

In the end I just prepared a simple chestnut stuffing and roasted the bird, on a rack above the potatoes, until its internal temperature was 160º.  The result was a perfectly-cooked Guinea hen, easily carved, more flavorful and juicy than chicken, and only very slightly more robust (gamey) in flavor; the fact that I didn’t miss the absence of a relish or chutney of any kind should be the giveaway for that.  There were also some pan drippings, just enough even without deglazing the small amount of collected liquid.

I will admit that the sweet potato oven fries saw the light of the kitchen twice after they were first put into the ancient Magic Chef, while I juggled developments in the separate cooking times of bird and tubers.

One more small satisfaction last evening:  Barry and I listened to Marek Janowsky‘s recording of ‘Die Walküre’, beginning at the moment I actually started cooking.  The ‘Ride’ began just as I brought plates to the table (whoa, drama!), and we didn’t rise from the table until the last note.

• a French Guinea hen from Mauer’s Mountain Farms, via Lucky Dog Organic, dried then brought to room temperature, seasoned with salt and pepper, rubbed all over with olive oil, stuffed with a chestnut dressing (see the next bullet point), placed in an enameled cast iron pan slightly larger than the bird, and roasted in a 375º oven for about 55 minutes, during which time it was placed on one side, then the other, and finally on its back, basted regularly throughout, removed from the oven when the internal temperature, measured at the thickest part of the thigh, registered 160º, allowed to rest, then carved and served, along with pan liquids
• a dressing made by sautéeing minced celery, onion and garlic until soft, adding chopped thyme, roughly-chopped cooked chestnuts, breadcrumbs softened in milk, salt, and pepper
• Japanese Sweet potatoes from Samascott Orchards, cut as for fries, tossed with a bit of olive oil and salt, arranged on a ceramic oven pan without touching, roasted until almost done, the heat turned up to 450º ten minutes before removal from the oven, at which time they were sprinkled with a modest amount of Spanish Pimenton Dulce
• purple kale from Lucky Dog Organic, braised with olive oil and a clove of garlic from S.S. & S. O. Farms which had been split and heated in the oil until starting to color, the vegetable then seasoned with salt and pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a French red, Château Prignac Médoc 2009 Grand Vin de Bordeaux

It was my 80th birthday, and the dinner – including the wines – was as exceptional as the occasion.

I might say that in this latest appearance, our storybook ‘Magic Meal’ was actually upstaged by the first course, but I won’t, out of huge personal sentiment – and loyalty to both a great restaurant (Al Forno, in Providence) and a home kitchen that has seen a lot over the decades.

Still, the sturgeon was a tough act to follow. Some of it may have been the pure novelty, and the fact that the recipe,  in all its simplicity, was entirely mine, but it really was delicious. That I grew up in the midwest, mid-century, where I was surrounded by sturgeon legends, and that Barry comes from Arkansas, one of the homes of the pallid and shovelnose, had almost nothing to do with it.

• four ounces of sliced smoked American farmed sturgeon from Grace’s Marketplace placed on a bed of almost impossibly-thin slices of 2 small golden beets from Norwich Meadows Farm that had first been sprinkled with small amounts of wild fennel pollen from Buon Italia, a good Puglian olive oil (7Giorni), and Newman’s Own balsamic vinegar, topped with dollops of a Ronnybrook Farm crème fraîche mixed with lemon zest and chopped fresh thyme, garnished with some subtly peppery micro red mizuna from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• flat bread crisps (Firehook Baked Crackers with rosemary and sea salt)
• the wine, which we had opened before the meal began and with which we toasted my great age and many great years shared with Barry, was a French (Champagne) sparkling, François Billion, Grand Cru, Brut Millésime 2010, from Astor Wines

The magic part of the meal was Conchiglie al forno (last night it was actually Lumaconi al forno, the pasta this time being Setaro’s ‘snails’, from BuonItalia), a rich pasta course with a very friendly history con noi that goes back 20 years. This pasta is sometimes described as lumache.

It combines a pound of a large Campania artisanal shell shape pasta with roughly half a pound of sliced mushrooms, half a pound of butter, 4 Italian cheeses, lots of double cream, one head of sliced radicchio, and a generous amount of fresh sage.

The recipe can be found on this site.

tip: any earthy mushroom would work (I have access to many, and this time I used chestnut mushrooms

tip: I used one large head of radicchio and it was more than enough

tip: the gorgonzola should not be a dolce

tip: you’ll need one very large bowl (or the emptied pasta pot)

• the wine was a very fine Italian (Tuscany) red, Barone Ricasoli, Chianti Gran Selezione 2015, from Bottlerocket