Paul wanted me to go home with the sea robin, which was actually less than half the price of the dolphin he was selling.

Speaking as my fishmonger, he said that by cooking and then writing about it on this food blog I might be able to expand the market for a very under-appreciated fish, reminding me that it was extremely sustainable (almost certainly related to its unpopularity), and pointing out that while we stood there in the Greenmarket that afternoon, all over the world there were enormous demonstrations about climate change, protests which were not unrelated to the disappearance of species.

I totally respect a fish monger who thinks in terms that not only do not favor his own business but manage to shame his customers, and I’ve prepared more than my share of sea robin (a great tasting fish, by the way), but on Friday I went with the dolphin, promising Paul it would be different next time.

Just then, a guy came up to the stand asked him about a fish he didn’t have that day, and the 3-way, eventually 4-way, conversation moved on to our experiences catching sea robin with hook and line (always inadvertently), and lots of laughter, especially over the surprise of their creepy ‘legs’ and ‘wings’.

I love the Greenmarket.

• a one pound skinned fillet of local dolphin, or ‘dolphinfish’, from Pura Vida Seafood, a species elsewhere known as orata, or dorade, but in the US commonly referred to by a Hawaiian name, ‘Mahi-Mahi’, (which I try to resist), because Americans, seduced by popular media, would otherwise think of Flipper, halved at home, dry-marinated for 30 minutes or so with more than half a tablespoon of zest from an organic California lemon from Whole Foods Market, half a tablespoon of what I think is chopped za’atar from Jayne of TransGenerational Farm (I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t now for certain that it was that herb; it may have been an oregano or marjoram, since they all look similar and I had bought all 3 herbs within days of each other; only one of them remains), sea salt, and freshly-ground black pepper, seared in a little olive oil inside a heavy copper skillet for about 2 minutes, the former skin side up, then turned over, the second side seared for another 2 minutes, the heat lowered and the pan loosely covered with a tin-lined copper universal lid for a minute or two, after which some short slices of baby French leek from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm and a bit of chopped fresh habanada pepper from Campo Rosso Farm were introduced and very briefly sautéed with the fish before the leek, the habanada, and the fish were arranged on the plates, and the now rich, savory pan juices poured on top, some micro scallion from Two Guys from Woodbridge scattered over all
• two heirloom tomatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, sliced horizontally, the cut sides seasoned with salt and pepper and sprinkled with torn leaves of spearmint, the gift of a friend
• some of the puntarelle prepared for a meal 2 days earlier but then set aside because including it would have made the portions too large, tossed now with a freshly assembled anchovy sauce
• the wine was a California (Sonoma) white, Scott Peterson ROX Sonoma Coast Chardonnay 2018, from Naked Wines
• the music was an album of various ‘Concerti Grossi’ by Francesco Geminiani’s, ‘Quinta Essentia’, performed by Concerto Köln

It’s not really much “like lobster”, as some would have it, but it is a sweet fish, in more than one sense.

I’ve written a bit about tilefish in an earlier post.

It’s difficult to imagine that it was once included within that hoary commercial seafood classification, ‘trash fish’, along with, among others species I would now consider delicacies, like sea robin, dogfish, and even redfish, hake, and porgy.

These 2 fillets were my first choice at the fishmongers’ on Friday.

I was reluctant to turn on the oven on a very warm night, and I didn’t want to use any of the preparations that are my usual alternatives to roasting. I looked around on line and found this simple and very delicious recipe, making only a few alterations.

The polenta included in the photograph accompanying the recipe would have been very nice, but I had some vegetables to bring out last night.

They were: some very deep green and very fresh okra, the very last little basket at the stand where I found it (also, the only okra I saw that day and the only okra I’ve seen so far this year); and a small amount of beautiful rainbow chard that I had washed and rinsed 2 days earlier, before realizing I had more than enough for that night’s meal.

I also had some slightly eccentric additions I wanted to add to the tilefish: the last of the garlic flowers I had enjoyed scattering on top of so many things for at least a whole week; and a package of near-micro nasturtium leaves I had picked up that day.

• two 9-ounce tilefish fillets from Pure Vida Seafood, washed, rinsed, patted dry, sprinkled lightly with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper and set aside; 2 tablespoons of butter and part of one small dried dried peperoncino Calabresi secchi from Buon Italia heated over medium heat and one whole garlic clove from Norwich Meadows Farm allowed to roast in the warm butter for a few minutes, until it started to color (I found the butter beginning to color just before the garlic did, but that didn’t present a problem) and then removed, the tilefish fillets added to the pan flesh side down and cooked, still over medium heat, for maybe 2 minutes, allowing them to also brown, after which they were flipped over and 2 tablespoons of chopped spring shallots from Alewife Farm were tossed in, the butter mixture spooned over the fish (I usually find it easier to use a silicone basting brush), after which the pan was covered with aluminum foil for about 2  minutes and removed, the juices once again spooned or brushed over the the fillets until they had browned and been cooked through (perhaps for another 2 minutes), when they were removed to the plates, sprinkled with lemon zest (of an Organic lemon from Whole Foods Market) and a little lemon juice, a bit of garlic flowers scattered on top, chopped lightly, and some rather small nasturtium leaves from Two Guys from Woodbridge draped across the middle of the fillets
• okra from Oak Grove Plantation, sautéed over a high flame in a large enameled cast iron pan with a little olive oil, seasoned with sea salt
• a portion of a bunch of rainbow chard from Echo Creek Farm, the larger part of which had already been made a part of this meal 2 days earlier, wilted in a little olive oil in which 2 halved garlic cloves from Norwich Meadows Farm had been heated, then seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper and drizzled with a little olive oil, served in small oval bowls to the side of the plates
• the wine was an Italian (Campania) white, Terredora Falanghina 2016, from Garnet Wines
• the music was the album, ‘Musick For Severall Friends’, a compendium of seventeenth-century English music by the composers John Wilson, Christopher Simpson, Johann Schop, Henry Butler, and Matthew Locke, with Mary Springfels directing the Newberry Consort

This is the meal I referred to in my previous post, the dinner I described as less than simple and less than minimal, at least in the context of my usual practice.

I’m no longer sure how I came upon the recipe. It may be that my mind started wandering after I had seen ‘Sea Robin’ on Blue Moon Seafood’s ‘available today’ board. The folks tweet a photo of it early each day they’re at a New York greenmarket. It helps me plan a meal (as long as I get there early enough, before my choice has been sold out). This week however they only had whole ‘Robins’. But I wasn’t anxious to work on the fish that hard, even if $1.50/lb is a mighty good price – for virtually anything!

Somehow I had already come across the ‘Cooking in Sens‘ site, where I noticed that the author’s recipe for Scorpion Fish (aka Sea Robin) included ingredients which I already had, which I was maybe anxious to use very soon, or which I just wanted to experience for the first time.

I was intrigued, and I decided I could work with ‘Scorpion Fish Fillets with Yellow Zucchini‘, using, as it turned out, a fish which is almost as low on the affordability scale as the one she had designated. The Porgy however had the good sense to come fully cleaned.

The result was a good meal, but sort of compromised by my feelings about its relative complexity; it was not really the kind of cooking I prefer, or the kind of dish either of us prefers, especially with a delicate fish.

It was what I could expect from a competent restaurant, and while that doesn’t sound like disapproval, and I don’t mean it to, the dish didn’t really seem to belong in our kitchen, where I try for an emphasis on simplicity and taking minimal steps, relying on the quality of the ingredients probably more than most cooks can, since I have both the time and the access to a magnificent local bounty.

I followed the recipe pretty closely, only substituting a few things, adding one or two.

• 6 porgy fillets (2.5-oz each) from Blue Moon Fish Company; Japanese scallions from Norwich Meadows Farm instead of shallots; yellow ‘Goldbar’ zucchini from Sycamore Farms; sweet coppa (capocollo) from Eataly; Mexican limes from Trader Joe’s; ‘Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter‘ from Whole Foods; most of one small red Calabrian chili pepper from Campo Rosso Farm; a drizzle of Ponti ‘Glassa Gastronomica’ (a heavily-reduced balsamic vinegar glaze); and micro scallions from Two Guys from Woodbridge

• an absolutely beautiful and superb ‘braising mix’ of greens from Keith’s Farm, barely wilted in a little olive oil, seasoned with Maldon salt, freshly-ground Tellicherry pepper
• the wine was a French (Rhône) white, Domaine Isle Saint Pierre Blanc Vin De France 2015
• the music was Roman Haubenstock-Ramati’s album, ‘Konstellationen’

Making do.

I mean that I had a choice of pasta, and more than one interesting ingredient to make it shine, and I decided the day before not to look further. When I found that even with the special element I had picked it would not really be much food, and realizing that we would have the time to enjoy two courses, I turned to a package of a salumi we had also been living with for a while.

The interesting ingredient I chose was agretti, because it was there, and because I imagined it would be very interesting, even unadorned, mated with a very good pasta.

Looking on line, I came across a discussion of the plant, one which also included a very simple recipe, ‘Spaghetti with monk’s beard’. I added some toasted breadcrumbs at the end, partly because I didn’t have near as much agretti as the recipe specified. It was delicious, and I don’t think we missed the agretti that wasn’t there. Still, it should be even  more interesting the next time, when I hope to have more ‘monk’s beard’ to toss with the pasta.

It was because the dish would be a pretty slight meal by itself in any event that I added an antipasto.

• two ounces of La Quercia’s Ridgetop Piccante Prosciutto (rubbed with fennel seed and red chili) from pastured pigs in the Missouri Ozarks
• the last of the small head of variegata radicchio di lusia from Eckerton Hill Farm that we now had enjoyed across 4 meals, and the leaves of a small head of lettuce from Campo Rosso Farm, which very much resembled the chicory, both ‘greens’ dressed with olive oil, local sea salt, freshly ground black pepper, and cut spruce tips from Violet Hill Farm
• slices of Pain D’Avignon ‘seven grains bread’ from Foragers Market

The spaghetti could hardly have been easier, or more fun, to assemble.

• about 2, maybe 3 ounces of agretti from Campo Rosso Farm, cleaned by “..pulling off any tired looking strands and chopping off the pink roots.”, as the recipe advises, washed a couple times in a large bowl of water and drained, tossed, along with some crushed dried Calabresi peperoncino secchia from Buon Italia, into an antique high-sided copper pot, over low-medium heat, in which 2 fresh garlic cloves from Michisk’s Farm in Flemington, N.J. had been gently cooking in 3 or 4 tablespoons of olive oil until they had softened and become fragrant, a pinch of salt added along with half a cup or so of water, the mix stirred for about 5 minutes or until the thickest part of the agretti stems had been cooked through, then half a pound of Setaro spaghetti from Buon Italia, cooked al dente, was added to the pot, with at least half of a cup of pasta cooking water, and everything stirred over high flame until the liquid had emulsified, when it was served in shallow bowls, a squeeze of juice from a Chelsea Whole Foods Market organic lemon added, olive oil drizzled around the edges, and toasted homemade breadcrumbs sprinkled on top

 

• the wine throughout was a very unusual, and I think stunning, Italian (Emilia Romagna) white, Caviro Sono Famoso 2017, from Foragers Market Wine [until fairly recently, the grape, famoso di Cesena, was thought to be extinct]
• and the music throughout was Salieri’s 1787 opera, ‘Tarare’, with a libretto by Beaumarchais, in a recording by Les Talens Lyriques directed by Christophe Rousset, which has not yet been released (we heard it via Spotify)

As a word, ‘halibut’ means ‘holy butte’ (butt spelled with an ‘e’ at the end).

The name is supposedly derived from the combination of the medieval English words for holy and butte (the combo has everything to do with traditional Catholic food obsessions, and ‘butte’ here is the general term for flatfish, not a part of the anatomy flatfish obviously don’t possess, even when very  young).

Still, for other reasons, I’ve always considered Halibut a great treat, but it’s generally pretty expensive, so when I spotted a beautiful tray of very fresh looking fillets in the fish display at Chelsea’s Whole Foods market, learned that it had never been frozen, and that it was [very seriously] on sale, I grabbed us a piece.

I then looked inside my files for a very simple recipe, but one with a little zing, and I found something by California chef David Gingrass that I had cut out from Food & Wine 12 years ago.

I mostly followed his instruction.

• after the oven was turned on and set at 400º, one large crushed garlic clove from Chelsea’s Foragers Market and the zest of one small organic lemon from Chelsea’s Whole Foods Market was mixed inside a small bowl with 2 tablespoons of Trader Joe’s very good all-purpose Italian Reserve unfiltered olive oil and allowed to stand at room temperature, discarding the garlic after 10 minutes and the oil put aside while another tablespoon of olive oil was heated until shimmering inside a shiny re-tinned copper au gratin pan and one 20-ounce halved piece of Canadian halibut (I believe from the Pacific, but, sadly, the fish person didn’t know) from Chelsea Whole Foods Market, both seasoned with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, was added to the pan, skin side up, cooked over high heat until the bottom could be seen beginning to brown [I may have been too cautious with the heat, as my halibut didn’t quite ‘brown’, but I also think: too much oil!], or about 3 minutes, then transferred to the oven and roasted for about 5 to 6 minutes, or until opaque throughout, arranged on the plates browned side up, where they were drizzled with the garlic lemon oil and garnished with micro scallions from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• six Maine cherry ‘cocktail’ tomatoes from Whole Foods, slow-roasted inside a small antique rolled-edge tin oven pan with a heaping teaspoon of dried Italian oregano from Buon Italia, half a tablespoon or more of Trader Joe’s Reserve olive oil, and 3 bruised cloves of garlic from Foragers Market

• I treated the chard that I had on the windowsill pretty much as the escarole was handled in Gingrass’ recipe, heating one tablespoon of olive oil inside a large vintage copper pot, adding one crushed garlic clove, 2 salted but thoroughly rinsed and filleted anchovies, and a bit of Calabresi peperoncino secchia from Buon Italia in the Chelsea Market, then cooking over moderate heat, stirring, for about 30 seconds, before more than half of 2 living (they and their roots rested in water inside a glass container) red chard plants that I had brought home from Stokes Farm in the Union Square Greenmarket, washed, drained several times, and roughly chopped, were stirred in gradually and heated until barely wilted, or for about 2-3 minutes, seasoned with salt and black pepper, then drizzled with olive oil
• the wine was a stunning Spanish (Terra Alta) white, Aureo, White by Joseph Puig 2014, from Astor Wines 
• the music was Renée Fleming’s magnificent voice, along with Handel’s opera seria, of 1735, ‘Alcina’, William Christie leading the Choir and Orchestra of Les Arts Florissants, with Juanita Lascarro, Laurent Naouri, Timothy Robinson, Kathleen Kuhlmann, Susan Graham, Natalie Dessay, and Renée Fleming