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

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 

The salumi course incorporated 3 different national traditions, but it still looked Italian.

• two ounces of Fermin Salchichón Ibérico dry-cured sausage from the Chelsea Foragers Market, made from the ‘pata negro’ breed of pig (Iberico pork, salt, nutmeg, black pepper, white pepper, plus seasoning which consisted of sugar, trisodium citrate, sodium nitrate, and potassium nitrate), drizzled with a bit of Frankies 457 Sicilian olive oil, the gift of  a friend
• wild cress from Lani’s Farm, dressed with more of the olive oil, a bit of Maldon salt, and some freshly-chopped black pepper
• slices of an organic sourdough baguette from Bread Alone

The pasta was something of a highbrid as well, although it too looked more Italian than anything else.

The Italian for red-veined sorrel? I think its ‘acetosa venata di rosso‘, if you can find it.

• two handfuls of red-veined sorrel leaves from Lani’s Farm, roughly chopped, folded into 3 ounces of softened Organic Valley ‘Cultured Pasture Butter’, along with more than a teaspoon of juice and the same amount of zest from an organic Whole Foods Market lemon, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, scraped onto a sheet of plastic wrap or wax paper, rolled into a log and placed inside the refrigerator until ready for use to initiate a sauce once 12 ounces of fresh pasta had been cooked al dente and drained (specifically, a fettuccine from Raffetto’s of New York City, whose ingredients are only durum flour, whole fresh eggs, and water, purchased at the Chelsea Foragers Market), the sorrel butter placed over a low flame inside a large antique tin-lined copper pot to melt, the pasta added, and then most of 2 ounces of toasted pine nuts as well, everything mixed well before the pasta was slipped into 2 bowls, sprinkled with the remaining pinoli, and garnished with shaved Parmigiano Reggiano Hombre from Whole Foods Market [I forgot to add a garnish of an ounce of micro red amaranth from Windfall Farms I had planned to include]

• the wine was an Italian (Piedmont), Erbaluce di Caluso ‘La Torrazza’, Ferrando 2014, from Astor Wines
• the music was the album, ‘Robin de Raaff, Entangled Tales‘

(the quince chutney hadn’t yet made it to the plate when I took this picture)

 

When was the last time anyone out there had mutton? Like most everyone in the English-speaking world, at least of my age or younger, I’ve only heard about mutton when it was being reviled as unfit for a proper meal.

I’ve been curious about the meat of mature sheep for decades, but i had never come across mutton until this past Friday when I saw a small sign on the Greenmarket table of a farmer with whose products I had only recently become acquainted (and with much satisfaction).

Over the years I had already learned something about what to expect. After a conversation at the stand, about the type of sheep the farm raises (‘hairy breeds‘), the differences between lamb and mutton generally (in this case it would not really be a very old sheep), and the description of good mutton as somewhat like game, I was really excited to try it for the first time. I bought 4 rib chops, which were roughly the size of most lamb chops, because the breed was smaller than sheep. It would be up to me to see that the experience was good.

It was very good, and I was able to bring it to the plate medium rare. Together with quince chutney, and some really good vegetables (all of which were also pretty much out of the ordinary), these mutton chops made a really excellent [*] meal. They were everything i expected, and more.

I’ll definitely be going back.

 

• * four 5-ounce mutton chops from Lowland Farm, in  Warwick, New York, dried thoroughly, grilled on a very hot enameled cast iron ribbed pan for a total of 10 or 12 minutes, turning twice, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper after the first time, finished with a squeeze of juice from an organic lemon from Whole Foods Market, scattered with micro scallion from Two Guys from Woodbridge, and drizzled with a little olive oil
• * quince chutney remaining from an earlier meal, using this theKitchn.com recipe, incorporating a red shallot from Norwich Meadows Farm, a Rocambole garlic clove from Keith’s Farm, quince from Troncillito Farms, dried sweet cherries (don’t know whether they were local) from Whole Foods, fresh ginger from Lani’s Farm, and apple cider vinegar from Race Farm
• * two small heads of tardivo radicchio from Campo Rosso Farm, prepared pretty much according to this simple recipe, which is to say, washed under cold running water, the moisture shaken off, each head cut in half lengthwise, and a V-cut made inside the root end to allow it to cook more rapidly, the halves arranged inside a ceramic oven pan cut side up, covered with thyme sprigs from S. & S.O. Farm, seasoned generously with salt and pepper, drizzled with 2 tablespoons of olive oil, baked for about 12 minutes, turned over, baked for about 8 minutes more, turned so the cut side is up and once again returned to the oven, this time for only a couple minutes or so, or until the stems were tender [the tardivo can be served hot or warm]
• * less than a pound of small root parsley from Paffenroth Gardens, their beautiful greens cut off when they were first brought home (they can be enjoyed as a strong-flavored parsley, but I didn’t have occasion to do so this time), and 2 sunchokes from Max Creek Hatchery, all of the roots trimmed, scrubbed, and sliced into sections equivalent to small French fries (although their small size and their shapes made something of a mockery of my attempt this time), tossed inside a bowl with a little olive oil, a few pinches of sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, one small fresh habanada pepper from Norwich Meadows Farm, chopped, and fresh whole rosemary leaves from S. & S.O. Farm, spread onto a large Pampered chef unglazed ceramic oven pan, roasted inside a 400º oven for 20 minutes, tossed, then returned to the oven for another 5 or 10 minutes until, ideally, golden on the edges, with crispy ends, but a tender center.
• * the wine was a California (Sonoma) red, ROX Scott Peterson Cabernet Sauvignon Sonoma 2015, from Naked Wines
• * the music was a wonderful performance of Haydn’s 1783 opera, ‘Armida’, with  Jessye Norman, Claes H. Ahnsjö, Anthony Rolfe Johnson, Robin Leggate, and others,
  Antal Doráti conducting the Lausanne Chamber Orchestra