This was the last dinner to include any ingredients from the modest cache of fish, meat and vegetables I brought home from the Greenmarket last Wednesday. I planned the meals in an order related to the perishability of the individual parts of the larder I had gathered that day. On Monday I had finally gotten to the parsnips, and they were definitely the sweetest roots I’d ever tasted: New England candy.
It may be difficult to assemble a meal from a “greenmarket” at this time of year, but it’s not impossible. All of the major ingredients of the main course of this dinner were purchased in Union Square last Wednesday, March 17.
I had originally planned a slightly more extensive meal for New Year’s Day, one which would have begun with a terrific-looking and sounding terrine of game, pink peppercorns and ginger. I had purchased it at the Dickson’s Farmstand Meats in Chelsea Market the same afternoon I picked up their rolled lamb belly, which was also the day I spotted the chartreuse holiday lights across the street from the Market.
As it happened, and with some irony, once I was back home I became engaged in writing the previous dinner post and wasn’t watching the clock. I remembered to put the miniature roast into a medium oven, but before I knew it I realized there was only enough time to prepare the vegetables which were to accompany it. We wouldn’t be sitting down to a first course. We’ll have the terrine tonight instead.
With the exception of the Auslese and the espresso, last night’s meal was entirely French-inspired; in fact I confess I was gently guided by Julia Child and her collaborators.
* although the image shown above is actually of an earlier purchase (December 16) from Van Houten Farms at the Union Square Greenmarket
Alvin Langdon Coburn The Octopus 1912
[image from the Metropolitan Museum]
Something in the way of a palate cleanser, and kitchen-pressure release valve as well: Tonight, after a couple of days of feasting, it was back to basics, as we enjoyed an extremely simple, southern Italian meal, one with whose honest outlines we’re both very familiar. In an odd exception from meals we’ve enjoyed over the past six to eight months, this time absolutely nothing came from the Union Square Greenmarket.
I’d already cooked the pasta when it first occurred to me to post about the meal, so in the accompanying image the spaghetti is instead represented by the beautiful label on the front of its box.
I had originally intended to finish with a quince purée the small rack of venison I had gotten from Ottomanelli this week, but I had been misinformed about the availability of quince this late in December. Learning the truth only the day before yesterday I quickly decided to use pears, one of the alternatives suggested by the recipe (in “D’Artagnan’s Glorious Game Cookbook“).
I had begun marinating the meat the day before that, in olive oil and crushed black pepper, along with Greenmarket rosemary, sage, and bay leaves (yes, I bought a bay branch at the greenmarket!).
Yesterday, just before searing the rack and putting it in the oven for 20 minutes, I made the sauce, chopping up firm Bartlett and Bouree Bosc pears and cooking them until tender with carmelized sugar and a combination of good Spanish red wine vinegar and stock which had been greatly reduced. The pear sauce was then puréed and kept warm. When the ribs were finished I separated them and served each portion on top of a helping of the purée, with a good portion of concentrated sauce infused with demi-glace spooned onto the meat itself and flowing onto the fruit.
The potatoes and the kale were both brought home from the Greenmarket in recent days. I found the kale in fact in the farmer’s by-then-almost-emptied wooden box, still frosted with the snow, now slightly crispy, from last week’s storm.
We had been listening to Bach’s Christmas Oratorio for much of the afternoon, but, not wanting to carry the traditional holiday playlist too far, just as we sat down to dinner we started listening to Bernstein’s “Candide“.
So for now, in this small place, in this best of all possible, possible, possible worlds:
Both yesterday’s lunch and this morning’s breakfast continued the holiday, or at least, winter, theme. In the afternoon on December 25 I roasted some locally-grown Greenmarket chestnuts in a perforated pan on the top of our 1931 Magic Chef. This morning I spread some truly fantastic pumpkin preserves from Marlow & Daughters on some more of the flax bread, buttered this time.
Barry and I don’t really celebrate Christmas, or any other god-based holiday, but we can’t help cherishing some of the trappings of the ancient Christian feast days kept by our families while we were growing up. Holiday meals are probably the most important survivors of his and my early conversions to irreligion, and those associated with December 24 and 25 are among those most worthy of our attentions.
So two nights ago I once again cleared off (six) two-foot high stacks of books from the top of the dining table in the large gallery, unfolded the top, pulled out the legs and set it for the fresh, light dinner described below. It was designed to anticipate a slightly more ambitious, warmer and heavier spread the following day:
