I love the fact that Mackerel seems to show up at our several fishmongers’ stalls exactly at the moment I’m thinking I should serve something different than seafood with less assertive flavors. This time that moment was this past Friday.

The plexiglas cover above the square bucket holding these Beautiful iced fillets was inscribed in wax crayon with the words, “Atlantic mackerel”, which is a species similar to Spanish mackerel, available here at other times.  The two are slightly different, but according to Wikipedia, most of what distinguishes them is apparent (and then barely so) only in the spots and coloring of the skin.

Paul, from whom I purchased these beauties on Friday, told me he prefers to call them Atlantic mackerel because, “Why give Boston the credit?”. He’s right of course, because they have been called Boston mackerel only because it was mostly from wholesalers in Boston that markets in other cities obtained these fish, which are actually not found anywhere near Boston, but only in shallow waters off lower Cape Cod and as far south as Florida.

Regardless of the nomenclature, which is always confounding when dealing with fish, unless you stick to Latin, all mackerel make great eating.

This time I followed a Gordon Ramsey recipe that I’d used only once before. It was as delicious as it had been the first time.

Also, and this is a big deal for us, since I tend to start making dinner very late in the evening: The entire meal was prepared in just under 60 minutes.

Here, their flesh sides rubbed with the garlic and paprika paste, the mackerel are placed with that side down on top of a lightly-oiled sheet of parchment inside a large unglazed ceramic oven pan, and, with their skin sides seasoned with sea salt, are about to go into the oven.

The potatoes (‘red potatoes’) were almost generic, but a sweet and delicious foil for the mackerel. Also, their skins did add little bits of color to the plate

• I halved Gordon Ramsey’s recipe, and among the ingredients I used, mostly following its directions, were 8 Atlantic mackerel fillet (a total of 17 ounces) from Paul Mendelsohn  at the Pura Vida Seafood stand in the Union Square Greenmarket, rocambole garlic from Keith’s Farm, 3 large red potatoes (one pound) from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, a teaspoon of Pimentón de la Vera pikant, 2 scallions from Stokes Farm

• winterbor kale from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, washed, drained, wilted in a little olive oil in which 2 bruised Keiths Farm rocambole garlic cloves had first been allowed to sweat and begin to color, seasoned with sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and drizzled with a little more olive oil
• the wine was an Italian (Marche) white, Le Salse, Verdicchio di Matelica, 2016, from Flatiron Wines
• the music was the album, ‘La Sublime Porte – Voix d’Istanbul 1430 – 1750’, Jordy Savall, Montserrat Figueras, and Savall’s ensemble, Hesperion XXI

There’s no real connection between the first and second courses of this meal, other than the fact that the first directly preceded the second, and the second directly succeeded the first.

The appetizer was merely assembled.

• a container of grilled artichokes with mint leaves and oil, from Eataly, divided onto 2 plates, served with a modified mayonnaise which started with Sir Kensington’s, plain, Classic Mayonnaise (made by ex-Brown students, with headquarters in SoHo), to which I added half that amount of Sir Kensington’s Dijon Mustard, a bit of juice from a Whole Foods Market organic lemon, a pinch of turbinado sugar, a very small amount of finely-chopped Rocambole garlic from Keith’s Farm, a bit of chopped micro chervil from Two Guys from Woodbridge, and a pinch of Maldon salt, garnished with some more, still whole, micro chervil
• slices of a sesame baguette from Bread Alone Bakery

The main course actually had to be cooked.

• two 9-ounce Spanish mackerel filets from Pura Vida Seafood, washed, dried, brushed with olive oil, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, pan grilled on a seasoned cast iron double-burner grill pan over high heat for a total of about 6 or 7 minutes, first skin side down, then turned half way through, removed, arranged on the plates and dressed with a salsa that had been assembled just before, consisting of 7 ounces of a mix of (mostly) heirloom tomatoes from several local farms, chopped roughly or halved, tossed into a small bowl with a teaspoon or more of rinsed and drained Sicilian salted capers, half a tablespoon of juice from a Whole Foods Market organic lemon, a pinch of sea salt, and a bit of freshly-ground black pepper, the salsa garnished with some pungent basil buds from Windfall Farms
• two crookneck yellow summer squash from Windfall Farms, cut into 2-cm rounds, sautéed in a little olive oil for a few minutes over a medium-high flame inside a large antique high-sided heavy copper pot, turning once, until both sides were well on their way to being caramelized, near the end of that time part of a length of a stem of fresh shallot from Tamarack Hollow Farm, cut into one-cm sections, was added and stirred into the squash sections until softened, the pan removed from the flame, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, the vegetables placed inside a bowl where the they were tossed with a few pitted kalamata olives, one small finely-chopped red aji dulce pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, a little lemon juice, and chopped ‘blue licorice’ (aka Korean mint, or Indian mint) from Lani’s Farm
• the wine was a New York (Long Island) rosé, Wölffer Estate Rosé 2017
• the music was Lully’s 1683 tragédie en musique, ‘Phaéton’, Christophe Rousset conducting Les Talens Lyriques and the Chœur de Chambre de Namur

I love silver, and especially the silver skin of Spanish mackerel (also really like those yellow dots).

• four Spanish mackerel fillets (a total of about 15 ounces), washed, dried, brushed with olive oil, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, pan grilled on a seasoned cast iron double-burner grill pan over high heat for a total of about 6 or 7 minutes, skin side down first, then turned half way through, removed, arranged on the plates, and a salsa that had been assembled just before spooned on or between the filets, the salsa consisting of 7 ounces of 3 sliced Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods Market and a few ounces of halved red grape tomatoes from Alex’s Tomato Farm in the 23rd Street Saturday Market, tossed in a small bowl with a teaspoon or more of rinsed and drained Sicilian salted capers, half a tablespoon of juice from a Whole Foods Market organic lemon, a pinch of sea salt, and a bit of freshly-ground black pepper, the mackerel finished and a drizzle of the juices that remained from some tomatoes heated for a meal 2 nights before, the salsa garnished with a bit of flowering spring shallot from Keith’s Farm
• the tender greens cut from 2 ‘Badger Flame’ beets from Norwich Meadows Farm (their beautiful roots remain in the vegetable bin for now), gently wilted inside a heavy tin-lined medium copper pot after 6 or 8
  young Rocambole garlic scapes from Keith’s Farm, cut into one-inch sections, had first been allowed to sweat in a bit of olive oil, softening, the greens, once softened themselves, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, arranged on the plates, and drizzled with fresh olive oil
• the wine was a Portuguese (Lisbon) white, Dory Branco 2016, from Garnet Wines
• the music was the album, ‘Le Parnasse Français‘, featuring early-eightenth-century works by Jean-Féry Rebel, Jean-Marie Leclair,  François Couperin, Michel Blavet, Michel Corrette, and Marin Marais, with Reinhard Goebel conducting Musica Antiqua Cologne

I spotted the mackerel first thing at the Greenmarket on Monday. Then I saw the yellow mushrooms, and, a few minutes later, some very beautiful bronze fennel; the meal was now completely assembled in my head.

But when I brought it to the table, although I had washed and chopped it, I forgot all about sprinkling the fennel on the fish and the mushrooms, which means the entrée was only partially realized, as planned, although it was still very delicious.

The fennel would also have added to the aesthetic, but it will probably make an appearance in the meal to be served the next day [update: it did]

• nine small Boston mackerel fillets (a total of 14 ounces) from P.E. & D.D. Seafood in the Union Square Greenmarket, seasoned on both sides with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, sautéed fairly gently in a couple tablespoons of butter inside a large, thick antique oval tin-lined copper pan, flesh side first, turned after about a minute and a half and the other side cooked for about the same length of time, removed and arranged on 2 plates when done, either covered, to keep warm, or, if it’s convenient to do so, placed inside a barely-warm oven, the heat kept low under the pan and another tablespoon of butter, or a little more, added, and when it had melted about 6 ounces of roughly-chopped yellow oyster mushrooms from Blue Oyster Cultivation tossed into the pan and sautéed, stirring, until lightly cooked, the mushrooms seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, and some ramps from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, bulbs chopped, leaves sliced, plus about a tablespoon (or a little more) of lemon juice added to the pan, everything briefly stirred with a wooden spatula, the mushrooms and their juices spooned around the mackerel (which I had intended to finish with some chopped bronze fennel from Norwich Meadows Farm)
• the remainder of a bunch of broccoli rabe (aka rapini) from Migliorelli Farm (most of it had been included in a meal a few days before), wilted in a little olive oil inside a large antique high-sided tin-lined copper pot in which 2 small sliced spring garlic stems from Windfall Farms had been heated until slightly softened, the greens seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, divided onto the plates, sprinkled with a little bit of dried pepperoncino Calabresi secchi from Buon Italia and drizzled with more olive oil
• slices of a whole wheat sourdough miche from Bread Alone Bakery
• the wine was an Oregon (Willamette Valley) white, Scott Kelley Pinot Gris Willamette 2017, from Naked Wines
• the music was Haydn’s last opera, ‘L’anima del filosofo, ossia Orfeo ed Euridice’ (The Soul of the Philosopher, or Orpheus and Euridice), written in London in 1791, but not performed until 1951, in Florence (when the lead role was sung by Maria Callas), the Academy of Ancient Music and the Academy of Ancient Music Chorus conducted by Christopher Hogwood

While I was growing up, New Year’s Day was a pretty grand occasion at our home: There would be guests, always interesting family friends, but almost never relatives. We were family outliers in Detroit, hundreds of miles from eastern Wisconsin where most of the tribes of both our parents were still based, their ancestors having cleared the old-growth forests and settled down on large dairy farms over a hundred years before.

Our Christmas tree was always pushed out of the house 2 days before (having arrived only a couple days before Christmas), an important moment which may have been a disappointment but it was also a relief, even to the young ones. In the afternoon, as the light outside dimmed, there would a special meal, with all the best china and glass, and tall candles(!), arranged on the extended dining table around a green centerpiece now liberated from the attributes of the immediately preceding holiday. There would be a roast of some kind, usually roast beef or ham, as well as all of the accompaniments traditional in the 1940s and 50s. There would be a fire burning in the living room, both weather and Mother permitting (no romantic, she thought wood fires were just dirty).

The rooms would look nothing like ours did yesterday, and not merely because we needed fewer chairs at the table: Mackerel was unknown on Haverhill Road, and I don’t think we ever had lamb in all the time I was living at home. I know we never had goat, and even polenta wasn’t part of the heritage of our beautiful Italian-American neighbors and friends, whose families had likely come from areas south of Tuscany.

We were Midwestern American locals, and even the foods we enjoyed, because of the modesty of that era and class, might have been surprisingly local. Today, in a much more ‘connected’ world we have to make a conscious effort to be locavores.

Yesterday’s first course was almost as local as almost everything else that was a part of this meal, the fish and its processing being identified with Maine, a place and an idea to which I feel close.

• six ounces of Ducktrap River of Maine‘s  ‘smoked peppered’ wild mackerel fillets from Chelsea”s Westside Market, served with dollops of local Ronnybrook Farms crème fraîche, stirred with grated horseradish root from Norwich Meadows Farm and drops of organic Whole Foods Market lemon, sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper
• a few live hydroponic dandelion greens from Two Guys from Ridgefield, dressed with a good Sicilian olive oil, from from Agricento, Azienda Agricola Mandranova (using exclusively Nocellara olives), Maldon salt, and freshly-ground black pepper
• toasts from a several-days-old buckwheat baguette from Runner & Stone Bakery
• the wine was a German (Mosel) white, Weingut Axel Pauly Trinkfluss 2014

The second course was more tricky, and the timing the completion of its 3 elements was not made easy by having the polenta milk/water mix boil over onto the surface of the range early in the polenta process, putting out the pilot light (at a moment when each of the 4 burners was covered with a pot that had to be removed for it to be re-lit), but I thought it was something of a triumph in the end.

It was my first goat neck, so I looked for recipes. Goat is little different from lamb in most respects, except perhaps for its normally smaller size or its reputed stringiness, so when I found this one, which addressed both, I jumped on it, and ended up working pretty closely with it.

The sauce produced by the braised goat may have been the best I had ever been able to ‘shepherd’ inside my kitchen, and yet all I did was boil it down for a while – while stirring the corn flour mix – after straining out the vegetables that had flavored it; because of the gelatin in this cut of meat, it needed no outside thickening agent.

• one 26-ounce goat neck purchased from Tony at the Consider Bardwell stand in the Union Square Greenmarket, seared on all sides over a medium-to-high flame until brown in 2 tablespoons of olive oil inside an oval enameled cast iron pot (with a cover to fit), removed from the pan and set aside, the heat reduced to medium and one chopped sweet yellow onion from Norwich Meadows Farm; a few ounces of a celery root, chopped, also from Norwich Meadows Farm; and one huge Rocambole garlic clove from Keith’s Farm added and cooked until colored, one branch of thyme from Stokes Farm and several interesting spices (1/2 tsp each of smoked piquante Spanish paprika, freshly-ground cumin, cinnamon, and coriander, plus a little less ground cardamom), cooked for 3 minutes, followed by over half a cup apple cider vinegar and a quarter of a cup of turbinado sugar, everything cooked until the liquid was reduced by half, 8 ounces of canned tiny Muti plum tomatoes with their juices, and a teaspoon of sea salt, brought to a boil,  topped with the lamb neck, water added until the lamb neck was a little more than half covered, the pot lid placed on top and the whole moved to a preheated slow-to-moderate* (300º) oven the oven and cook for approximately 2 hours, maybe a little longer, or until totally tender, the meat almost (or actually) falling from the bones, the pot removed from the oven, the the neck removed from the pot and allowed to cool until it could be handled enough to pick the meat from the bones,  then kept warm, while the cooking liquid with the vegetables and seasonings was passed through a strainer, the solids discarded, and the remaining liquid reduced until somewhat thickened (as they say, “able to coat a spoon”), the picked goat meat placed in the sauce and served

*I love to see the use of traditional measures of oven heat surviving beyond the age of solid fuel cookers; there’s also the holding-one’s-arm-in-the-oven-until-it-becomes-intolerable tip (if you can count to thirty it’s not hot enough for bread)

• coarsely-ground Iroquois White Corn Project white corn flour (hulled, ground, & roasted and hand crafted in Victor, New York as a program of the friends of Ganondagan, from the Greenmarket Regional Grains Project stall in the Union Square Greenmarket) cooked with water and whole milk (in a proportion of 3 to 1), finished with several tablespoons of several (4?) tablespoons of Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’, seasoned with sea salt
• the white and lighter green parts of a Japanese scallion from Norwich Meadows Farm, sliced, heated along with a tablespoon of fennel seed in one tablespoon of butter inside a small, heavy tin-lined copper pot until the scallion had softened and the fennel become pungent, then set aside while another tablespoon of butter, or a little more, was melted inside a larger heavy tin-lined copper pot and one 8-ounce Napa cabbage, also from Norwich Meadows Farm, roughly chopped, was added and stirred until wilted, after which the reserved scallion-fennel mixture, some sea salt, and a little freshly-ground black pepper were added, and the cabbage stirred some more, finished by tossing in the green tops of the scallions, chopped
• the wine with the main course was a rally great California (Napa) red, ‘Declaration’ 1849 Wine Company Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon 2014, the generous gift from an artist acquaintance, Saber

We’re not ‘sweet-toothed’, so ‘treats’ usually last weeks in our apartment. I had been very excited about picking up what is essentially a German fruit cake in the Greenmarket a number of days before Christmas, but we hadn’t been interested in a sweet course since. We were being very well entertained with good holiday savories.  Last night might have been no exception, but as it was probably the last of the winter holidays, we decided to finally pay our little Hutselbrot the homage it had awaited.

• thin slices of a small (150g) Runner & Stone Hutselbrot (local organic all-purpose flour, almond paste, organic cane sugar, local butter, local eggs, oranges, 70% chocolate) from their stand in the Union Square Greenmarket
• the wine was a Portuguese (Porto) port, Porto Dalva 20 Years Old Dry White Port

• the music throughout the meal was a gorgeous brand-new recording of a newly-assembled pastiche representing Vivaldi’s 1726 melodramma eroico pastorale, ‘Dorilla in Tempe’, Diego Fasolis conductiing I Barrochisti (additional information on the piece here)

[most of the pictures above were taken while the food was still in the kitchen, since there isn’t enough light in the dining gallery for well-focused images]