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ein deutsches Picknick, zu Hause, im Hause

It was ‘Magische Mahlzeit‘ Vorabend (more on that holiday tomorrow).

For a little while I had been assembling a number of foods, prepared and fresh, that would lend themselves to being part of a picnic, and in particular, mostly a German picnic.

Last night, after a visit to Schaller & Weber in the afternoon, I was ready to assemble one.

As usual, the plates were anchored with a tasty dressed green, in this case various baby mustards from the Union Square Greenmarket, to which I added some grown-up arugula, also from the Greenmarket.

smoked eel with chive, horseradish crème; Lachsschinken

Yes.

A delicious winter picnic at home, with a very heavy German accent (the picnic, that is).

Unusual for this site, the leading image (here the only one) is of the entire old birch table, rather than just one of the plates: I thought it this view would cover more ground, so to speak.

The breads were nearly as important to the meal as the fish and the meat. The sturdy New York state sourdough combined the attributes of a traditional German bread with varieties introduced more recently into a culture looking for even more diversity in foods already very wholesome.

The pumpernickel however (on the upper right in the picture), with its “characteristic deep brown color, sweet, dark chocolate, coffee flavor, and earthy aroma” [a description found in Wikipedia], and especially when it is in this intense, compact form, is totally German. Its addictive virtues (along with those of all the other varieties of thin, heavy, moist Vollkornbrot), made it one of the first things I fell in love with when I arrived in Hannover in June, 1961; I ate it like candy. I think these pre-packaged treasures, of any grain, are the only commercial breads – and the only sliced breads – I would ever expect to bring home.

  • one small (8-ounce) local (Long Island) whole smoked eel [Aal, in German] from P.E. & D.D. Seafood [for a picture, scroll down here], skinned, head removed, boned, and cut into small pieces, combined in a bowl with the zest and juice of one organic lemon and a small handful of scissored fresh chives from Two Guys from Woodbridge, allowed to rest a bit, and then, when ready to serve, sprinkling the eel with salt to taste, then a mix of crème fraîche from Ronnybrook Farm Dairy and a generous amount of grated horseradish root, both from Eataly, swiped across lightly-toasted and fairly thin slices of a sourdough wheat and rye bread with sunflower and flax seeds from Hawthorne Valley Farm, then spooning the eel with lemon and chives on top of the layer of cream
  • thin slices of Lachsschinken from Schaller & Weber, twisted on the tines of a fork, arranged on a small glass plate, served with slices of an incredibly rich imported German whole grain pumpernickel (Delba-Backbetrieb)
  • a little undressed upland cress, from Two Guys from Woodbridge, to be added to both canapés
  • the wine was a German (Pfalz) white, Friedrich Becker Pinot Blanc 2013, from our much-missed former neighborhood wine shop, Appellation Wine & Spirits
  • the music, on the eve of Saint Valentine’s day, was Georg Philipp Telemann’s 1726 opera ‘Orpheus’ [full german title: Die wunderbare Beständigkeit der Liebe oder Orpheus (surprisingly for the era, most of the opera is in German, thanks to the guten Bürger of Hamburg, who did not depend on highfalutin princes, for whom it was first produced, in concert form, at the Theater am Gänsemarkt)], this recording by the Academy for Ancient Music Berlin, and the Berlin RIAS Chamber Chorus [interesting note about the piece, from the opera’s Wikipedia entry: “Most of the work is in German but it also contains passages in French and Italian drawn from famous operas by Handel and Jean-Baptiste Lully. The music to these words is Telemann’s own, however. The manuscript score of Orpheus was not rediscovered until the late 20th century.”

squash/fennel/onion/tomato/kale/prosciutto/cukes

antipasti_dinner

(now everyone knows that I remove my ring and my watch while working in the kitchen)

 

The vegetables were beginning to pile up, and I had a little prosciutto on hand, so I decided to make a dinner of antipasti alone.  A bonus: whatever cooking would be involved could be done in advance, plus, because nothing was going to have to be warm on the table, we could linger as long as we wished, as we do with our regular ‘picnics‘.  This time it was with Monteverdi.

  • Colameco’s prosciutto from Whole Foods; pan-grilled baby yellow squash from Berried Treasures, finished with spearmint from Phillips Farm; one pan-grilled quartered spring red onion from Tamarack Hollow Farm; pan-grilled baby fennel from Eckerton Hill Farm, finished with the fennel fronds, chopped; Tuscan kale, braised with crushed fennel seed and dried chile pepper; Korean cucumbers from Bodhitree Farm, sliced thinly and tossed with olive oil, Chianti wine vinegar, crushed red pepper, and a bit of sugar; heirloom tomatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm and Bodhitree Farm, along with two tiny golden cherry tomatoes from Eckerton Hill Farm, dresssed with good olive oil and tossed with chopped fresh oregano; and slices of Balthazar’s ‘Potato-Onion Fendu’, purchased at Whole Foods
  • the wine was a French rosé, Château Soucherie, Rosé de Loire, Cuvée L’Astrée 2014
  • the music was Claudio Monteverdi’s ‘Orfeo’, led by Jordi Savall

morcilla, pinoli, raisins; radicchio salad; baby leeks

morcilla_salad_baby_leek

I love blood sausage, regardless which cultural environment produces it, and the Spanish do as well by it as any other.

The day was warm. To avoid introducing heat into the kitchen and dining area we were thinking of having a simple indoor picnic, but then I remembered that a friend had given us some morcilla a while back and that we hadn’t yet figured out how we were going to enjoy it.  Maybe it wouldn’t rewuire much cooking, and since I was home all afternoon anyway, following the dramatic developments in Greece, for ideas I could do some paper file browsing and an online search.   It turned out that my folders contained absolutely nothing, and neither of my two Iberian cookbooks offered any useful suggestions, other than outlines for preparations far more elaborate than I would want to undertake under any circumstances (one of the reasons I love Italian cookery so much).  Using a search engine however, I managed to assemble some sketches which I was able to put together as a rough outline for an entrée which would incorporate the morcilla.

I ended up with a fairly simple preparation which featured materials I already had on hand.

  • three tablespoons of pine nuts allowed to turn golden in a little olive oil, then removed and set aside, some Despaña Brand Morcilla (four links, a total of 8 oz.), the gift of a friend, cut into thick rounds with the skin left on, added to the oil in the pan, along with a few tablespoons of mixed raisins, all stirred and fried for a few minutes, followed by the addition of a few tablespoons of rosé wine (opened the day before and kept in the refrigerator door), which was simmered for about four minutes before the pine nuts were added back to the pan, the whole then spooned over a previously-assembled salad of radicchio from Tamarack Hollow Farm, arugula from Whole Foods, and a mélange of herbs (parsley from Stoke’s Farm. lovage from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, tarragon from Stokes Farm, fennel fronds from Bodhitree Farm, and basil from Keith’s Farm), dressed with a very good olive oil, a Rioja red wine vinegar, salt, and pepper
  • tiny baby leeks from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, rolled in olive oil, minced garlic, a bit of red wine vinegar, salt and pepper, then quickly pan-grilled, finished with chopped thyme from Eckerton Hill Farm
  • the bread was a whole wheat, ‘Integrale’, from Eataly
  • the wine was a Spanish red, Finca Millara Beterna Ribiera Sacra Mencia 2012
  • the music was that of Lisa Bielawa

leftovers, other good things: a felicitous salmagundi

chorizo_roast_roots_polenta

Our cold larder (okay, our refrigerator) had accumulated excellent leftovers from meals of the days before as well, and we had some fresh vegetables waiting to be put together for one or more dinners to come.  I took advantage of the bounty by combining all with two sausages from a package I had just purchased the day before;  it was not to be a mélange, but it turned out to be a homey treat on a chilly evening, its ethnicity indeterminate.   Also, I guess we could call it a warm picnic.