This was an entrée of Swordfish steaks Salmoriglio, meaning the fish (purchased from PE&DD in the Greenmarket) was first sliced into sections about half an inch thick, then quickly pan-grilled and finished with a lemon olive oil sauce, in this case incorporating fresh wood sorrel instead of the fresh or dried oregano I would normally use.  The swordfish was accompanied by florets from small heads of orange and green cauliflower (from the Greenmarket’s Tamarack Hollow Farm), which were sautéed with chiles, garlic, fennel and coriander seed, then braised with small chopped heirloom tomatoes and finished with torn basil.

The wine was a sturdy Tuscan rosé, Il Conventino Rosato del Conventino Toscana 2013

 

 

Yesterday was Friday, and so, like good christians everywhere (actually, not including us, and, are there any left?), we had sea food – duck, to be specific. Oh yes, in the middle ages, duck, as waterfowl, if you could manage to successfully poach it from the local lord’s wetlands, was sometimes accepted as “fish” for the purpose of a proper observance of Fridays and other fast days (and this was even before the Jesuits were invented!).  Acceptable as “fish” on those days were whales and porpoises, even beaver, seals, geese, also ducks, and god only knows what else (and it seems she certainly wasn’t saying).

Nobody told me about any of this while I was laden with weekly visitations of fish sticks as a good Catholic child (also, who really knew what was in those frozen batons, although the answer may have been less outlandish 60 years ago than it is today), but the gods will surely forgive Barry and me our stretching the definition of sea food, because last night’s repast was heavenly.

After an appetizer of heirloom tomatoes and wild watercress, we shared a simple duck breast (by Pat LaFrieda, a total of .74 pounds for both of us, from Eataly) which I scored and covered in salt, pepper, and a bit of sugar, then let sit for an hour before sautéing it, finishing it with a squeeze of lemon, some terrific wood sorrel (from Bodhitree), and oil.  The accompaniment was purple cauliflower from Tamarack Hollow Farm, sautéed with red onion, garlic, and chiles, and finished with mint and basil (I hadn’t enough of the preferred mint, so I sent some basil in as reinforcements).

Largely because we still had wine left, there was a third course consisting of  very small bits of two very good cheeses, “Manchester”, a semi-hard aged raw goat milk (Oberhasli goats) “peasant tome”, from Consider Bardwell, and “Landaff”, a New England raw-milk cheese from Holstein cows, inspired by Welsh tradition, made by Landaff Creamery.  Accompanying them were thin slices of of hard-toasted Pugliese bread from Sullivan Street Bakery.

Our wine was a California Pinot Noir, Mossback Central Coast Pinot Noir 2012

It would be Forelle Müllerin if I hadn’t overheard a discussion about (wild) wood sorrel yesterday while in the Bodhitree stall in Union Square.  Almost before I had entered the conversation, the customer talking to Nevia No and who was holding the last bunch in her hand, placed it in mine, and generously offered it to me.  I had already purchased two rainbow trout from Dave of Max Creek Hatchery;  I knew this was going to be a match made in Greenmarket heaven.  It was, and I thank you good woman.  Last night the cress stood in for the traditional parsley finish in this classic German dish.

The rest of the meal included Saltzkartoffeln, made with new Yukon Gold potatoes from Berried Treasures, finished with chopped lovage from Keith’s Farm; and a serving of lemon-and-oil-dressed wild cress (wilde Brunnenkresse), again from Max Creek.

I had salted and pressed a variety of thinly-sliced cucumbers from Lani’s Farm late in the afternoon.   After I had rinsed and drained them I added a few slices of shallots and some chopped dill (from SSO Farm), chopped parsley (excellent parsley from Eckerton Hill Farm), and a bit of sugar, before covering everything with a mixture of good vinegar and water.   This side dish/salad was a pretty good semblance of what my mother served, and she had learned it from her mother, who had learned it from her Frankish mother, who had learned it from her mother, born in 1814.  Barring the shallots substituting for a sweet onion, I think I served a pretty German Gurkensalat.

The wine was an Austrian white, Dürnberg Burggarten Weisburgunder 2011

 

Our spell of heat and humidity broke last evening, blessedly.  Before it did I spent time, more than I want to admit to, wracking my brain and a number of recipe files and books for ideas on cooking flounder which did not involve using the oven.  I also wanted to do something other than what I often have done, even though it’s delicious.  I had brought home a beautiful fillet from PE&DD at the Greenmarket earlier in the day, and I was thinking it wouldn’t really be a proper summer feast if the windows were closed.

Further to a consideration of recipes, I was becoming a little concerned about my growing – and ripening – tomato hoard, so I definitely wanted to include some of the fruit with the fish.

The solution I came up with was a slight reworking of a recipe I found on line (never underestimate the internet’s usefulness in the kitchen, no matter how large your recipe file may be).  It was described as “Petrale sole with tomato butter” on the LA Times site, but I wasn’t  scared off by the fact that my bottom feeder didn’t come from the Pacific, or by the absence of tarragon in my electric larder.  I love tarragon, but fortunately I did have some lovage, from Eckerton Hill Farm;  it’s one of my favorite seasonal herbs, one which I regularly use any excuse to add to a dish.   I also substituted for the cherry tomatoes mentioned in the recipe two ripe heirloom tomatoes from Norwich Meadows Farm, which I chopped, perhaps into pieces a little too small.

Meanwhile I had also been seduced while at the market by some beautiful and delicious Roma beans being offered by Race Farm.  I sampled them raw and they were really flavorful – actually complex in flavor!   I’ve often been disappointed by the taste and texture of Roma beans, so I asked the farmer why these were so extraordinary. He told me they picked them while young (the beans).  It seems it works.

I wasn’t certain how good the fish recipe would be, but I decided that the colors, on the same plate with the bright green of the beans, would look pretty terrific.

In fact the entire entrée turned out to be really, really good, far more delicious than I could have imagined;  I think most of the credit should go to the freshness of  all the ingredients, and the restraint of the recipes:  The fish was simply seasoned and sautéed, the beans par-boiled, rinsed, dried, and warmed a bit with oil and butter just before the fish went into the pan.  The salsa was the only relatively complex element, although not from the standpoint of preparation, since it could also be assembled somewhat at leisure, before the beans were heated and the fish cooked.

The wine with which we accompanied it, in another reminder of summer, was a Provence rose, Domaine La Colombe Coteaux Varois en Provence 2013

 

I cannot lie.  We turned the AC on last night, although only in the kitchen and breakfast room.

Earlier in the day I had been seduced by some fish and vegetables spotted in the Greenmarket, but by evening, when I was beginning to think about what I was going to do with them, the thermometer was still sitting in the high 80s in the area around our 1931 Magic Chef (like this one, but with a bit more elegance).  That was before I had even started making dinner; I was pretty certain it wasn’t going to drop while I worked up a proper meal, each element of which called for at least some range heat.

The fish I brought home were four 3-ounce small sea bass fillets from Blue Moon Fish.  This is how beautiful they look before cooking.  I sprinkled the four with a light coating of seasoned flower, and dipped them in an egg which had been beaten with chopped parsley.   After a quick sauté in a mixture of oil and butter, I removed them from the pan, sprinkled them with a bit of lemon, finishing them with pan juices I had mixed with some more parsley.

The accompaniments were large red fingerlings from Lucky Dog Farm, which I boiled, cut into smaller pieces then tossed with butter and lovage; and sugar snap peas from Eckerton Hill Farm, blanched for one minute, then briefly heated in a little oil and finished with chives.

Each of the herbs also came from the Greenmarket, the parsley from Queens County Farm, the lovage from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm, and the chives from S.S.&O. Farm.

The wine was an excellent Loire, Olga Raffault Cuvée Chinon rosé 2012, the gift of wonderful friends.

looks a little dull, and monochromatic, but the flavor is neither

 

This might be considered an almost perfect entrée for a hot day.  While delicious served cool, as it should be, the pasta itself of course has to be boiled. It can, and in fact it must be done long before it’s combined with the rest of the ingredients.  That means only the cook has to suffer a hot kitchen, and those fiery duties can be accomplished hours before anyone sits down at the table.

It’s Pasta Promfumata al Limone, or ‘lemon-scented pasta’.  Here it’s Afeltra fusilli con buco, combined with shredded carrots (perversely, in my interpretation, white carrots  from S.S.&O. Farm, since they are what I had on hand, although parti-colored carrots would have been spectacular), shredded tuna, garlic, lemon juice and zest, parsley, basil and lovage (my addition).   I substituted the fusilli for the recipe-specified farfalle or ‘bowties’, because I did not have the latter in my, . . . larder.

Note: Only when I began to mix the cooled pasta in with the remaining, refrigerated ingredients did I realize that it would have been better to use almost anything but a long pasta; penne would have worked fine.  Next time.

The recipe is from the late, much-missed Kyle Phillips, writing in ItalianFood years ago.

The wine served with this dish was Per Linda Trebbiano d’ Abruzzo 2013

no bugs, no rain

 

Yes, by now it should be clear that we spent the Fourth of July in our summer place on 23rd Street, where we almost always holiday.

In the first two of the three days of the extended weekend we had a meal dominated by fish (a pretty American meal, even if, since it was in a particularly New England form, it was somewhat esoteric American).  Dinner on the second day included grilled red meat (a feast almost, but not quite of the classic American cookout sort, since lamb still doesn’t conjure up thoughts of the typical American barbecue, and because it was enjoyed indoors).  On the third day we had a simple picnic, but once again we probably missed the point of the genuine Fourth, since this picnic was indoors.  Also, there was no chicken.

I had decided to work with the warm weather, meaning I would avoid cooking altogether, so I assembled what we call a picnic, something we do on occasion to vary the kitchen routine and to enjoy an even more leisurely pace, whether before, during, or after dinner, than I can normally arrange.

All of the food was gathered from what we already had on hand, making the meal even more relaxed.  There was prosciutto (packaged, from Whole Foods, and honestly quite good); sliced yellow tomatoes from Stokes Farm, topped with Mountain Sweet Berry Farm lovage; a small simply-dressed salad (treviso from Queens County Farm, topped with chives from S & SO Produce Farms);  four cheeses (Paglierino and Salva Cremasco from Eataly, Willoughby of Cellars at Jasper Hill from the New Amsterdam Market, and Garrotxa from Citarella); and an Italian rye bread from Eataly.

 

The wine was an Australian, Yalumba Y Series Viognier 2013

Oh, and those red tomatoes? They were only table decor this time.

Lamb chops from 3-Corner Field Farm, pan-grilled, then finished with a green salsa very much dominated by lovage from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm; accompanied by yellow cauliflower from Norwich Meadow Farms, pan-roasted  with garlic, anchovy fillets, and crushed chiles, then finished with chives; red kale from Phillips Farms, wilted with garlic, dressed with oil, was a contorno.

The wine was an Australian red, Wirra Wirra Vineyards’ 2012 Scrubby Rise, a blend of Shiraz, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Petit Verdot.

one of our favorite things, and very little prep required

 

A New England Fourth of July, and a remembrance

 

We decided on a piscatorial 4th of July, if only because it was a Friday, and I almost always buy fish if it’s a Greenmarket day.  As it turned out, there were few stalls in Union Square on the holiday almost everyone celebrates in some way, and there were no fishers.

I headed to Citarella, only blocks away (we’re so blessed in our location, for at least some things), and picked up local seafood stars for two courses, 12 Wellfleet oysters*, and a local-waters cod fillet weighing just under a pound.

Neither of us adds anything to the perfect simplicity of raw oysters, and I already had some red kale from Phillips Farms, so when planning the meal that evening I decided to keep both courses very simple,  preparing one of our favorite dishes, Mark Bittman’s “Steamed fish on kale”.  Incidentally, it’s an inspired recipe, both for its ease and for its adaptability:  Any white fish can be substituted for cod, and almost any fresh, tender cooking greens can be substituted for the kale used here.  I used olive oil this time, although I don’t know why, other than the fact that most of my cooking is done with the fruit of that tree, but I agree with Bittman that in this case butter is better.

We accompanied both courses with a Muscadet Sèvre et Maine Stéphane Orieux 2013,  from Appellation Wine and Spirits.

 

also a great favorite of ours, with only a little more work

 

* I believe it must have been briny Wellfleet oysters that were the comestible stars of my romantic  introduction to raw seafood in 1965.   It occurred under the tutorage of a very preppy, impossibly-handsome, older (I was 24, he was 33) Rhode Island gentleman with whom I had just begun my first affair.  The time was a glorious summer afternoon like this one, and the venue was Boston’s Union Oyster House; we sat next to each other on stools at the ancient raw bar.

May Steve be resting in peace, with his ‘drinky-poo’ – maybe  a Mount Gay and tonic – in his hand.  Note to self, and to all:  Barry was not yet born at the time.

only using the oven early in the day

 

This is another warm-weather entrée, although this one does require some heating, of both the range and the oven, early in the day (or, possibly even better, the day before).  The recipe is based loosely on Martha Rose Shulman’s “Tunisian Style Baked Cauliflower Frittata“, printed in the New York Times last year (in the winter).  It’s a fairly casual formula which would seem to welcome many variations, including, among others, the choice of hot sauce.

I added a salad of ripe summer vegetables, cucumber and tomatoes I had on hand, dressed with oil and white wine vinegar, a pinch of sugar (a nod toward the Maghreb?), and some torn basil and mint.

I served it at room temperature, which is generally ideal for any frittata.

We picked a Sicilian rosé to accompany the meal, Di Giovanna Gerbino Nerello Mascalese Rosato, from Chelsea Wine vault.