We don’t really celebrate Christmas, except culturally, which always means there’s a place for a special meal and a special wine. This was only the night before the night before Christmas, and so while it was a special meal and a special wine, the occasion was probably more that of the Sunday thing. We also don’t really celebrate Sundays, except as the Germans do, meaning as a day not like the other days of the week, and one which should include a good meal.

The problem with this routine, and this account is, first, the fact that I cook almost every night, second, that it’s largely chance that determines what the meal will be (what might be available at the farmers market on a particular day), and, third, that I can’t actually know in advance when a dinner is going to turn out well, or especially well.

This past Sunday really was unlike other days, and the meal was special, because I managed to put an excellent small rack of lamb on the table, and because I somehow managed to cook it perfectly. Although it was produced by local farmers in the Hudson Valley, I didn’t buy it at the Union Square Greenmarket, but from Eataly Flatiron, 2 blocks east of us. They have an excellent meat department, with most its stock locally sourced (may I describe their guys as neighborhood butchers?).

I still feel a little guilty, because I want to patronize the farmers in the Greenmarket as much as I can. But on that day I hadn’t planned ahead at all, and didn’t have anything in the apartment that I wanted to present for dinner. For a day or 2 I had been thinking about some good chicken, especially since I had some special vegetables that would show well with chicken, and that’s how I found myself at Eataly in the middle of the afternoon. Their broilers however were too large, the breast parts that I saw were unfortunately boned and skinless, and we had enjoyed their excellent Cascun Farms thighs only recently. Now I was stumped.

Then looked inside the meat counter itself and there I saw a single, very beautifully-frenched quite small rack of lamb peeking out from behind a store tag showing both an impressive description of origin and an impressive price. The lamb, it turned out, when I asked the butcher to check, weighed a little more than I had hoped it would, but it was now too late to blink. I bought it and I’m delighted to say that it turned out to be probably both the tenderest and most delicious lamb I’d ever had, whether at home or elsewhere.

I guess sometimes you do get what you pay for.

• a one-pound Kinderhook Farm frenched rack of lamb (Dorper breed) purchased from Eataly Flatiron that afternoon, brought to room temperature, then, when the oven had been set to 475º, seasoned generously with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper while one tablespoon of olive oil was heated inside a small heavy, oval enameled cast iron pan until it was hot but not smoking, the lamb placed inside to brown, for about one minute per side, the arced, bone side down first, followed by all the other surfaces in turn, removed and most of the fat poured out, all sides of the rack except for the ends then rolled inside a shallow bowl which held a mixture of less than 2 tablespoons of whole yellow mustard seeds and 2 full teaspoons of Sicilian fennel seeds (both toasted together earlier inside a large quite vintage seasoned cast iron skillet over medium heat until they had become fragrant and, in order to cool slightly, had been immediately transferred to the bowl in which the lamb was to be rolled, the meat now returned to the pan in which it had been seared, arced side down, transferred to the oven (now lowered to 375º), roasted until a thermometer inserted into the center of the lamb registered 135º, or medium-rare (roughly 15-20 minutes), at which time the pan was removed from the oven and allowed to stand on top of the range for at least 10 minutes, when each of the 2 sections were cut into 2 chops, which were arranged on the plates, drizzled with a little Whole Foods Market lemon juice and some Whole Foods house Portuguese olive oil, and garnished with micro chervil from Two Guys from Woodbridge [the excellent and pretty simple recipe I used began with Martha Stewart]

• a 10-ounce mix of round baby Yukon gold potatoes from Race Farm and oblong la ratte potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, scrubbed, skins left on, halved, tossed with a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, rosemary leaves from Phillips Farm, and a bit of dried habanada pepper, arranged, cut side down, on a medium well-seasoned Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at temperatures averaging 400º for about 25-30 minutes

• halved sections of 2 ‘heads’ (almost the very last in their tub) of what Chris and Jessi of Campo Rosso Farm have dubbed, ‘Rosa di Campo Rosso’, their own cross-breed[?] radicchio (it seems somewhat related to tardivo), tied with butcher’s string, tossed with a little olive oil, sea salt, and freshly-ground black pepper and arranged, with branches of thyme from Willow Wisp Farm on the top, inside a small unglazed seasoned Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic oven pan, roasted at 400º for about 12-15 minutes, turning once, finished with a very small splash of balsamic vinegar [note: the radicchio can be served either hot or warm, so it’s an excellent low-stress accompaniment for many different meats or fish]
• the wine was a French (Pomerol) red, Château Moncets, Lalande de Pomerol 2012, (merlot, cabernet franc, cabernet sauvignon) from Astor Wines
• the music was Rossini’s 1817 opera, ‘La Cenerentola’, with Riccardo Chailly conducting
  the Bologna Teatro Comunale Orchestra and the Bologna Teatro Comunale Chorus, with Cecilia Bartoli as Cinderella

It was wonderful.

And it tasted as spectacular as it looks.

Interestingly, it was assembled with huge portions of serendipity.

The first thing I did at the Union Square Greenmarket yesterday was buy the second-last bunch of the first asparagus I had seen this season, inside the first farmer’s stall just inside the entrance.

My next stop was the fishmonger’s, where I picked out 2 beautiful fillets of very fresh flounder, the perfect size for a meal for two, and also for the large oval steel pan that I would be using for the first time ever.

I hadn’t intended to buy mushrooms that day, but I wanted to show Joe Rizzo of Blue Oyster Cultivation pictures of what had become of the ones I had picked up last week (seen in this meal and this). There I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw what he had on the table that day.

These pink oyster mushrooms had to become a part of the meal I was assembling in my head. Joe told me a lot about them, including the fact that the color turns slightly brown when cooked, and that they should be cooked longer than other mushroom varieties normally require. What he didn’t tell me was how extraordinarily delicious they were, or that they would end up tasting a bit like, and looking much like, cooked shellfish (lobster, or, better, crawfish), at least when prepared with the recipe which became my next happy chance.

Tomatoes too!

Pierre Franey was a legend while he lived, and even in death (he died in 1996, at 71, shortly after suffering a stroke while giving a shipboard cooking demonstration aboard the QE2). He seems to have had a way of making superb meals accessible to home cooks, and this particular (undated) recipe, ‘Flounder Filets With Mushrooms and Tomatoes’, which I found while searching ‘flounder’ and ‘mushrooms’, would support that proposition.

Finally, I had a decent supply of spring ramps to recreate a recipe for asparagus that I had used a year ago, and just the right amount of firm, ripe sort-of-local tomatoes (substituting for Franey’s “4 ripe plum tomatoes”) to assemble his entrée, plus a few extras for the whole, like spring garlic, herbs, a micro green garnish, all of it from the bounty of local farmers at the Greenmarket.

The plate looks both traditional and modern, and that pretty much describes what the meal tasted like. Is it French? Where does it fit in the chronology of culinary fashion? The questions are interesting, but not really very important, although I think that with a very few refinements, and if the size of the entrée were hugely reduced until it occupied only the center of the plate, it could pass for haute cuisine (par un amateur). But then I’d have to prepare more courses.

• *this is my slightly-altered arrangement of Pierre Franey’s original recipe: 3 ounces of pungent pink oyster mushrooms (aka ‘pleurotus djamor‘, or ‘pink flamingo oyster mushrooms’) from Blue Oyster Cultivation, “cut into small cubes” (Franey), added to a large antique, high-sided copper pot in which one tablespoon of olive oil and one tablespoon of butter had been heated, sautéed over medium high heat until cooked medium brown (I’m acknowledging Franey’s admonition to “cook briefly”, but apparently these particular mushrooms have to be cooked beyond the stage most others would, or they will have a sour taste), 2 teaspoons of chopped spring garlic from John D. Madura Farm mixed in and softened but not browned, followed by 8 Backyard Farms Maine ‘cocktail tomatoes’ from Whole Foods Market, each cut into 8 pieces, one tablespoon of juice from an organic Whole Foods Market lemon, 2 sprigs of thyme from Stokes Farm, some sea salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste, the pot removed from heat and kept warm while two rinsed and drained 7-ounce flounder fillets from P.E. & D.D. Seafood, first seasoned on both with salt and pepper, were dipped, both sides, onto a platter spread with 4 or 5 tablespoons of black sesame seeds (I had no tan seeds in the spice cupboard, and as it turned out, for both taste and aesthetic reasons, I’m glad I didn’t), laid inside a very large, seasoned 17-inch steel vintage oval skillet*, over high heat without crowding, once another tablespoon each of olive oil and butter had been heated but not allowed to smoke, the fish cooked over high heat, turning once, “until fillets and seeds are lightly browned on both sides” (this is the catch if you’re using black seeds, so I could only use my judgment here; I probably cooked them only 4 minutes, but the time would vary depending on the thickness of the fillets), arranged on 2 plates and partially covered with the reserved warm sauce that I then sprinkled with chopped parsley from Phillips Farm, the fillets themselves garnished with micro scallions from Two Guys from Woodbridge
• *some 18 or so asparagus from Central Valley Farm (10 to 12 ounces total), of various sizes, plus the white sections (green leaves removed) of an equal number of early-season ramps (the bulbs grow larger as their short season advances through the spring) from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, along with a handful of thyme branches from Stokes Farm, a little more than a tablespoon of olive oil, a little sea salt, and a bit of freshly-ground black pepper, all rolled along the surface of a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted in a 425º oven for about 25 minutes, but toward the end of that time the reserved green ramp leaves, roughly-sliced, were thrown onto the top and pushed around a bit just before the asparagus and ramp white sections had finished cooking, and when all was cooked the asparagus mix was removed to 2 plates and drizzled with juice from an organic Whole Foods Market lemon
• the wine was a California (Sonoma) white, Matt Iaconis Chardonnay Napa Valley 2016, from Naked Wines
• *the music was a  magnificent performance of Schubert’s Piano Quintet in A major, D. 667 ‘The Trout’, with the performers Anne-Sophie Mutter, Daniil Trifonov, Hwayoon Lee, Maximilian Hornunz, and Roman Patkoló (these players obviously really like doing this, and they’re very, very good at it)

 

*

Delicious home economics: This was the third meal in which we were able to enjoy some part of a single 5-pound smoked rack of pork (Kassler). I had purchased it to share with friends on New Year’s Day, but over the next 5 days it eventually became the centerpiece of 8 delicious main course dishes, making the cost per serving only $5.

And they definitely were delicious, this last meal, where only a few ounces of our smoky leftovers were able to dominate a luscious combination of some pretty assertive vegetables, no less than the ones which had preceded it.

• two tablespoons of Kerrygold Pure Irish Butter melted in a small, heavy, tin-lined copper pan over medium-high heat, without stirring, until the butter had become golden brown, a generous amount of sage leaves from Eataly added at that time, and the pan removed from the heat and put aside while 3 outer leaves of a red cabbage from Hoeffner Farms, sliced very thinly, sautéed in another, larger, copper skillet (eventually adding water) until lightly cooked (retaining a slight crunch), and, near the end of that time, one medium shallot from Norwich Meadows Farm, thinly-sliced, added and heated until soft, followed by a few ounces of leftover smoked pork (originally a part of the preparation of this meal) which had been sliced into thick matchstick lengths, then the contents of the skillet added to 8 ounces of a locally-sourced and locally-produced, seasonal and and artisanal pasta, Sfoglini ‘Jerusalem Artichoke Fusilli’ (incorporating sunchokes grown by Norwich Meadows Farm) which had been cooked al dente during the preparation of the sauce, drained, and returned to the cooking pot, everything stirred, along with some reserved pasta cooking water, at which time the sage butter was added and the mix seasoned with salt and pepper to taste

• the wine was a Hungarian (Tokaji) white, Royal Tokaji Wine Co. The Oddity Dry Furmint 2013
• the music was Alfred Schnittke’s Sympnony No. 6, the BBC National Orchestra of Wales conducted by Tadaaki Otaka

Leftovers, but a very special kind of leftovers.

Tonight we enjoyed a re-run of our New Year’s Day feast, absent the radicchio but present some good red cabbage, simply presented.

• about 16 ounces of the 24 ounces of smoked pork loin which remained from Sunday, reheated in the oven after being drizzled with the small amount of sauce that had also not been consumed that day, along with the modest amount of the surviving horseradish potato gratin, both served with a small amount of pungent horseradish jelly from Berkshire Berries and a handful/scoop of 2 finely-sliced really tiny red cabbages from Norwich Meadows Farm that had been dressed with a little good olive oil, salt, pepper, and a drizzle of real apple cider vinegar from Race Farm and allowed to sit for 45 minutes
• the wine was a German (Baden) red, Hermann Dorflinger Spätburgunder Müllheimer Reggenhag Spätlese trocken 2013 which we had brought through customs when returning from our last German trip
• the music was Alfred Schnittke, Symphony No. 4, the Stockholm Sinfonietta conducted by Stefan Parkman, the Uppsala Akademiska Kammarkor directed by Okko Kamu