Most of the time, a single entrée plate with several different things on it, will offer two or three different experiences, and occasionally even more, but once in a great while, at least in my experience, they will all come together as slightly different aspects of a whole. This is what happened last night, with this wonderful meal.

• one beautiful 11 and a half ounce swordfish steak from Pura Vida Seafood Company, halved, marinated inside a small antique rectangular ironstone serving dish for a little more than 30 minutes, turning once, in a mixture of a few tablespoons of olive oil, much of a teaspoon of a pungent dried Sicilian oregano, which is sold still attached to its stems at Buon Italia, a pinch of dried smoked serrano pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, and a bit of thinly chopped garlic scapes from Norwich Meadows Farm, after which the swordfish was drained, both sides covered with a coating of homemade dried breadcrumbs and pan-grilled over medium-high heat for 3 or 4 minutes on each side, or until barely cooked to the center, removed from the pan and arranged on 2 plates, sprinkled with a little local Long Island sea salt (P.E. & D.D. Seafood), with some of the chopped green section of the scallion], drizzled with a bit of juice from a Whole Foods Market organic lemon and garnished with scissored garlic flowers from Alewife Farm (those very seasonal flowers were a small part of the preparation, but they make me very happy)

(those very seasonal flowers were a small part of the preparation, but they make me very happy)

• one pound of Red Pontiac new potatoes from Cherry Lane Farms that I had purchased exactly one month before, prior to our 3 weeks in Berlin (so, not so new, but they see to have even improved with ‘age’), boiled with a generous amount of salt until barely cooked through, drained, halved, dried while still in the still-warm vintage medium size Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot in which they had cooked, rolled around inside in a bit more than a tablespoon of Whole Foods Market house Portuguese olive oil, sprinkled with salt and freshly ground black pepper, garnished with scissored dill blossoms picked just the day before, from Lucky Dog Organic Farm

• one not very large head of Romanesco broccoli from Lucky Dog Organic Farm, broken up into florets, tossed with a little olive oil (not too much, to ensure some crispness and a carbonized finish), salt, pepper, and one crushed section of a dark dried habanada pepper, the mix spread onto a Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan and roasted at 400º for about 25 or 30 minutes, the outer leaves, trimmed, added just before the broccoli was removed from the oven, the mix stirred and arranged on the plates
• the wine was an Oregon (Willamette Valley) rosé, 2018 Oregon Rosé of Pinot Noir which we had ordered directly from Erath
• the music was a newy-discovered 1718 Neapolitan version of Handel’s ‘Rinaldo’, described as “a pastiche with a Mediterranean allure which Leonardo Leo assembled” 7 years after the premier of the original at the Queen’s Theater in London

Steak. It takes all kinds. In the past I have generally favored cooking the kinds generally favored by others, with a very few exceptions for unusual cuts, but I honestly think it’s out of a preference for the neatness of a steak, both in its appearance on the plate and in the slicing of it. For these and for other reasons, like tenderness, which is absolutely not a priority for us, this means the cuts that are the most expensive.

I’ve been learning about some of the alternatives.

If it’s going to be about taste, there will have to be some side trips, with rewards well beyond the cost savings.

On Saturday it was time for a chuck steak. Actually the nomenclature, if not the cut itself, was a little more complicated than the familiar, often snubbed cut that the name suggests. It was a ‘boneless top blade steak’, something like a flat iron steak. That afternoon at our neighborhood Chelsea’s Down to Earth Farmers Market, I purchased the last piece of meat, of any kind, that Christopher Novak of Abundance Acres Farm had left. We discussed the cut (unfortunately most of what I thought I was learning at the time I’ve since forgotten, but I was impressed, enough that, although I didn’t really have to buy anything that day, I went home with a large steak (s’okay, there were no smaller ones).

I was told it was perfectly alright to cook it more or less dry, almost like any other steak. I checked on line, and was reassured, by this site and a few others.

• one 20-ounce Hereford-Angus breed boneless top blade steak from Abundance Acres Farm, located in South Arabia (don’t bother trying to Google ‘South Arabia’), Montgomery County, New York State, 5 miles north of the Mohawk River and 5 miles south of the foothills of the Adirondacks, at Chelsea’s Down to Earth Farmers Market, which is set up on Saturdays one block east of us in the spring through the fall, defrosted, brought to room temperature, both sides sprinkled generously with sea salt, freshly ground black pepper, one chopped spring garlic clove from Michisk’s Farm in Flemington, NJ, and a squeeze of juice from a Chelsea Whole Foods Market organic lemon, placed inside a heavy oval enameled cast iron pan already made hot over moderately high heat, in half a tablespoon of butter, a little less olive oil, and 2 whole cloves of the same garlic, sautéed 2 to 3 minutes on each side, or an internal temperature of 120-130º [because of the nature of the cut, it might be advisable to extend the cooking time, but only a bit, to come closer to ‘rare’], more lemon juice squeezed onto the steak just before it was removed from the heat, when it was allowed to rest, lightly covered, for at least 4 minutes before being transferred to the plate on top of a bed of leaves from one small head of radicchio (‘Italian chicory’), probably a variegata radicchio di lusia from Eckerton Hill Farm

• twelve ounces of small red thumb fingerlings from Tamarack Hollow Farm, halved lengthwise, tossed with a little olive oil, sea salt, freshly-ground black pepper, and a pinch of powdered home-dried habanada pepper, placed cut side down on a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan, roasted at about 375º for 20 minutes or so, arranged on the plates, cut spruce tops from Violet Hill Farm sprinkled on top

• about 10 ounces of purple sprouting broccoli from Campo Rosso Farm washed and drained a couple of times in fresh cold water, chopped roughly, sautéed or wilted over a low flame until the stems had softened by gradually being added to a heavy medium size antique copper pot in which one large chopped Michisk’s Farm spring garlic clove had first been heated until it had softened and become fragrant, seasoned with salt and black pepper and drizzled with a little olive oil
• the wine was a red (Côtes du Rhône) red, Jean-Louis Grande Réserve 2017, the gift of our friends Robert and Andrei, visiting from Berlin
• the music was the album, ‘Hilda Paredes: Señales’, with the Ensemble Signal

‘ribs’

I grew up in the upper Midwest, where I’m pretty sure the practice of cooking outdoors on a real fire was called a cookout, at least it was way back then. A barbeque, or more often, bar-b-q, was something cowboys had, or at least something that happened in the Southwest. To me it was certainly associated with some not random, but very competitive spicy smokey tomato sauce. Barbecued ribs were the classic form. The entire concept was eventually repackaged as serious casual restaurant food for rugged guys with rugged tastes, guys who probably didn’t know how cook it themselves, or at least didn’t have the time or equipment to do it themselves. These guys didn’t mind messy finger food. I always have, so barbeque has never been much of a thing for me.

Last night we had a cookout at home, although, as a New York apartment cookout, it was actually a cook-in.

There was also no spicy, smokey tomato sauce, and there was no fire, but there really were ribs. They were goat ribs however, which must certainly disqualify the experience as anything associated with the American male appetite.

Except that they were delicious.

In the end, I even abandoned my knife and fork, which I almost never do.

They also didn’t take hours, which meant they didn’t heat up the apartment for hours. Every recipe I saw on line for goat ribs (or lamb, which can be treated in almost exactly the same way) described some form of extended cooking involving the oven, and then I came across this simple suggestion on a New Zealand site for cooking lamb ribs, once they had been marinated:

Preheat a barbecue grill or frying pan to a medium-high heat. Add the ribs and cook until browned and crunchy on all sides – around 15-20 minutes. If you have single ribs they will only take about 10-15 minutes.

I didn’t use its marinade suggestion found there, but the thought that long, slow cooking wasn’t an imperative was a breakthrough. Still, I didn’t fully trust its [only 10-20 minutes!] timing indication, so I started the ribs just before I would be putting the potatoes or asparagus into the oven, knowing that I could keep the 2 vegetables or the ribs warm while finishing the other. Everything worked out fine.

• just over one pound of goat riblets, separated, from Lynnhaven Dairy Goat Farm in the Union Square Greenmarket, rolled in a marinade which included a little chopped spring garlic from Lani’s Farm, one large chopped ramp bulb from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, a couple tablespoons of Whole Foods house Portuguese olive oil, flowering thyme from Norwich Meadows Farm, the zest from more than half of an organic Whole Foods lemon, a little lemon juice, a few tablespoons of Corvo Sicilian white wine, one tablespoon of dried Sicilian oregano, sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, the chops then set aside covered, on the counter for about one hour, drained, seasoned, and placed inside a large heavy enameled cast iron skillet above a medium high flame, seared on all sides and cooked, turning occasionally, for about 25-30 minutes (at this point I wasn’t watching the clock, but the vegetables) during which time they were checked for doneness – and tenderness – and at some moment the heat was turned down while waiting for the vegetables to finish cooking
• six medium ‘red thumb’ potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, halved, tossed with a little olive oil , salt, black pepper, a pinch of hickory smoked Jamaican Scotch Bonnet pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, and another pinch of home dried habanada pepper, originally purchased fresh from Norwich Meadows Farm, spread across the surface of a medium Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan and roasted at 400-425º for a little longer than 20 minutes
• about 11 ounces of thin asparagus spears from Hoeffner Farms and the white sections (the green leaves removed) of 8 or more ramps from mountain Sweet Berry Farm, 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 for about 20 to 25 minutes at 400-425º, and near the end of that time, some of the reserved green ramp leaves, roughly-sliced, thrown on top of the asparagus, pushed around with a wooden spatula, the vegetables removed, more thinly sliced ramp leaves laid on top, everything drizzled with a bit of lemon juice
• the wine was a wonderful Portuguese (Lisbon/Estremadura) red, Montaria Reserva Portugal 2016, from Naked Wines (they’re expanding beyond the U.S.)
• the music was Roman Haubenstock-Ramati’s album, ‘Konstellationen’

I’m new to cooking with morels (who isn’t, other than the lucky few who can hunt them in nearby fields?); I think I still have work to do on these prized and very expensive fungi, assuming I save up enough for another go: Maybe I’m too allied to Mediterranean cookery, but while this approach with a flounder fillet that I employed last night was delicious, it didn’t seem like an ideal match.

It had started at this pretty spectacular table of foraged mushrooms and ramps, or wild spring leeks, at the Union Square Greenmarket(note: the beautiful eggs weren’t foraged).

• two and a quarter ounces of perfectly clean[ed] fresh morel mushrooms (two mushrooms) from the spring foraged plants table overseen by Patrick, I think, at the Violet Hill Farm stand in the Union Square Greenmarket, sliced narrowly lengthwise (this cut may not have been a wise choice for these fungi, at least aesthetically) and added to a heavy antique copper skillet in which one spring garlic stem (the white section, and a little of the green) had first been softened in a tablespoon or so of butter, the morels immediately salted, to encourage moisture escaping, gently sautéed for several minutes until brown, a splash of Lustau dry (fino) sherry from Philippe Wines stirred in, the mushrooms seasoned with freshly ground black pepper, and kept warm while the fish, which had already begun cooking, was finished
• one very fresh flounder fillet (a total of 21 ounces) from P.E & D.D. Seafood Company, halved, seasoned on both sides with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, sautéed fairly gently in a couple tablespoons of butter inside a large (13-inch), thick-walled antique tin-lined copper pan, flesh side first, turned after about 2 minutes, maybe slightly more, the second side cooked for about the same length of time before the fish was removed and arranged on 2 plates, either covered, to keep warm, or, if it’s convenient to do so, placed inside a barely-warm until the mushroom sauce was completed, at which time it was spooned onto the flounder
• four medium size ‘red thumb’ potatoes and 2 ‘pinto’ potatoes (the 2 kinds remaining from larger numbers, and now assembled together as a single vegetable for this meal), all from from Norwich Meadows Farm, scrubbed, boiled whole and unpeeled in heavily-salted water until barely cooked through, drained, halved, dried in the still-warm large vintage Corning Pyrex Flameware blue-glass pot in which they had cooked, a tablespoon of Organic Valley European-Style Cultured Butter added, seasoned with sea salt and freshly-ground black pepper, arranged on the plates and sprinkled with chopped lovage, also from Norwich Meadows

• ten or eleven ounces of medium thickness (they did not have to be peeled) green asparagus from Hoeffner Farms, their tougher lower ends snapped off, rolled inside a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan with a handful of thyme branches from Phillips Farm in a little more than a tablespoon of olive oil, a little salt, and black pepper, roasted at 425º for about 20 or 25 minutes, then drizzled with a bit of Whole Foods Market organic lemon after they had been arranged on the plates
• the wine was a French (Loire/Sancerre) white, Domaine Paul Cherrier Sancerre Blanc 2017 from 67 Wine
• the music was an album of orchestral music by Hans Werner Henze, the Double Concerto for Oboe, Harp and Strings, the Fantasia for Strings, and the Sonata for Strings; the performers include Ursula Holliger (Harp), Heinz Holliger (Oboe), Paul Sacher (Conductor), and the Zurich Collegium Musicum

I’ve definitely never cooked a merlot steak, and now after engaging it one on one, I can’t remember whether I had even heard of it before last Saturday. We’d just left an art fair that afternoon, when I realized that while we would be guests at a dinner that evening, we hadn’t yet decided what we’d have for dinner on Sunday. We were near one of our favorite neighborhood butchers, so we walked a few blocks further downtown to our neighborhood whole-animal butcher shop.

Fro some time now my preferred steak has been the culotte, or what Brazilians call the picanha, but it’s not always easy to find, and while Hudson & Charles (located, naturally, on Hudson, near Charles, in the West Village) did have one, its particular size and shape wouldn’t really have worked for us that night, so I asked the butcher what he might recommend in its place.

He suggested a ‘merlot’ (video from the Meathook,  another local whole-animal shop), an under-appreciated tender beef steak from the side of the heel inside a larger muscle group called the campanella. I had spotted the word, ‘merlot’ on a label below a steak inside the glass-front cooler just before I asked the question. Its size was perfect, his description made it sound like a winner, and that’s what it turned out to be.

So, 2 days later I found myself in the kitchen with around one pound of an unfamiliar merlot steak, armed with nothing more than salt, pepper, a couple tablespoons of butter, a few ramp leaves, and some lemon zest.

It was terrific, as were the Greenmarket vegetables that joined it.

• before preparing the meat itself, the leaves of half a dozen ramps (maybe one or 2 tablespoons) from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, washed, dried, and chopped, half a teaspoon of zest from a Chelsea Whole Foods Market organic lemon, sea salt, and some freshly ground black pepper were mixed into 2 and a half tablespoons of softened butter, molded into squares or pats, then set in the refrigerator to chill, removed just as the steak was beginning to cook, meaning one 15-ounce ‘merlot’ steak from Hudson & Charles, halved, dried, rubbed generously with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, was set aside for about an hour, after which time it was placed inside a grill pan already quite hot above a fairly high flame, where the steaks remained, although turned at least once, for about a total of 6 minutes, or until they were medium rare (after they had mostly cooked, I loosely tented the 2 pieces with aluminum foil, and removed both foil and steaks when an instant read thermometer indicated they were medium rare), allowed to rest for 8 minutes or so, then quickly cut across the grain into 1/2″ sections, the reserved ramp butter spread on top

                                                

• five buttery pinto potatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm and 5 sweet redskin potatoes from Race Farm (what remained that night from a larger stock of each), all halved, tossed with a little olive oil (barely a tablespoon), salt, black pepper, a pinch of hickory smoked Jamaican Scotch Bonnet pepper from Eckerton Hill Farm, and another pinch of home dried habanada pepper, originally from Norwich Meadows Farm, spread across the surface of a large Pampered Chef unglazed ceramic pan and roasted at 400º for a little longer than 20 minutes

• broccoli rabe from Migliorelli Farm, washed and drained 3 times, braised inside a large, heavy antique copper pot in which two halved garlic cloves from Foragers Market had been allowed to sweat in some olive oil, the dish finished with salt, black pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil
• the wine was a Spanish (Castile and León/Gredos Mountains) red, Ruben Diaz, Gredos Garnacha ‘La Escalera’ 2016, from Flatiron Wines
• the music was the album, ‘Dutch Symphonies’, Anthony Halstead conducting the Netherlands Radio Chamber Orchestra, including 2 works by Carolus Antonius Fodor, and one by Johan Gabriel Meder