Frank Picchione

Black Cod Poached in Saffron Tomatoes

Black cod is my favorite fish in the world.  It is like a more delicate version of halibut.  Do not think of black cod as cod.  It is not a true cod fish at all.  In fact, I wish they'd call it black something else, because I despise real cod. 

When I was a kid in tube socks my family and I would go to the docks off I don't remember what town in Rhode Island, where the fishing boats arrived with their daily catch.  The fishermen, covered in blood and guts, would call out, "Fresh cod!  Fresh cod for sale!"  And we would be the first in line.  It was a weekly ritual.  I remember having the best fish and chips of my life made from that cod. 

Then one day, years after we stopped going to Road Island on the weekends, my mother bought cod from a local market in town.  She got it home and opened the package to find tiny white worms squirming in the cod's white flesh.  Don't ask me how she spotted them because they matched the fish perfectly, and they were as thin as dental floss.  When we returned the cod to the monger he said that all cod has worms, and that they are harmless and unnoticeable when eaten.  Not one of the Picchiones has eaten cod since.

Now if you still have an appetite for fish this is a great way to prepare black cod.  Black cod is impressive because the flesh is so white and the skin is so black.

Ingredients for Four

2 pounds black cod
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
12 good ripe tomatoes (if you cannot find them use a can of your favorite diced tomatoes)
1 small onion, minced
4 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon crumbled saffron threads (may seem like a lot, but that's the way I like it)
1 lemon
Salt and Pepper to taste
1 tablespoon chopped fresh chervil

To begin, rinse and pat dry the black cod fillets.  Then slice the fillets into two to three inch square pieces and set aside.

Heat the oil over a medium flame in a large heavy pot that has a tight fitting lid.  Saute the onion and garlic until soft and translucent.  In the meantime, dice the tomatoes into half inch cubes and add them to the pot.  Bring to a boil, turn heat down to low, and add the saffron.  Continue to simmer for about 15 minutes, until the tomatoes begin to form a sauce, but still hold most of their shape.

Raise the heat to medium-high and press the pieces of fish evenly among the tomatoes, spooning a little sauce over each.  Cover the pot and poach the fish for eight to ten minutes.   Remove from the heat and season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper.  Squeeze the juice from the lemon over the fish, and garnish with the chervil.  I usually serve this with brown rice and a salad.   

A Walk in the Park

Today I walked in Central Park with someone who asked me not to print her name in the blog after the one time it appeared.  La-di-da.  Of course I used only her first name, and it's not like her first name is Cher or Oprah.  After I pointed out to her that she could have been anyone, I promised to honor her wishes.  So let's pretend I went on a solo adventure.

Have you all heard about the famous red tailed hawk named Pale Male?  I hope he doesn't mind my using his first and last name, but public figures are fare game.  For years he and his hawk wife Lola have built an eight foot nest out of twigs and branches above the 12th floor window of 927 Fifth Avenue. 

A few years ago there was a huge uproar when Paula Zahn and her husband, who was the president of the board, finally succeeded in having the nest removed.  Their building was surrounded by protesters, one of whom lives in the building herself and is named Mary Tyler Moore.  The backlash was so great that the following year the hawks were allowed to rebuild. 

Last fall I was walking in the park with Sara (so now you know today's companion was not Sara) and we encountered Pale Male sitting in a low tree branch a mere ten feet off the ground.  We stood underneath and observed him tear a pigeon limb from limb.  It was like watching Wild Kingdom as tufts of feathers, still attached to bloody flesh, fluttered to the ground.  If only I had had my camera and this blog then.

Today Mrs. X and I looked up at the nest from inside the park where there are always bird watchers with high powered telescopes aimed at the 12th floor of 927 Fifth.  One of them told us that Lola was sitting on this year's eggs, though the nest is so deep would could not see her.  We then headed into the depths of the park toward Belvedere Castle and Turtle Pond.  As we approached our destination we looked up just as a red tailed hawk circled overhead and landed in a nearby tree.  I barely managed to get the photo you see above before he soared away.

Blossoms in Central Park

Pussy Willows in Wilton

Today the sun was warm, the sky was bright, and the pussy willows reached upward.

Storm Clouds My Haiku by Frank Picchione

Brimming storm clouds loom

Thunder cracks grey skies apart

Downpour quenches me

Brooke & Negro

I know these pictures are not great.  The camera flash reflected off Negro's eyes and floating particles of hay and bedding.  Not to mention his stall is in dire need of repainting.  But it was so cute watching my niece Brooke groom him that I cannot resist posting the photos anyway.

Negro, with his white blaze running from his forelock to the tip of his nose, is my favorite pony at the Yale Polo Club. He is quick and responsive and able to gallop around the tightest corners.

Brooke, who was apprehensive at first, is becoming more and more comfortable around the barn and the horses.  And when she's not freezing she enjoys the action in the arena as well. 

Younger sister Tatum prefers the glamour of the high goal summer tournaments at the Greenwich Polo Club, where she charms every Argentine into autographing her polo ball.  

Spice of Life - Cinnamon

What we in North America commonly call cinnamon is actually the bark of a tree found in southern China and Vietnam called cassia.

Like other spices, there are health benefits to eating cinnamon, which is a natural anti-inflammatory.  Studies have shown that a half teaspoon per day can lower LDL.

It has also been found that cinnamon has a regulatory effect on blood sugar, making it beneficial for people with Type 2 diabetes.

And a study published by researchers at the U.S. Department of Agriculture shows that cinnamon reduces the proliferation of leukemia and lymphoma cancer cells.

Not to mention it is delicious. I add a half teaspoon to my daily oatmeal, alongside my curried egg whites.

To Flush, My Dog by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

This poem is for Kamil and Molly.

Yet, my pretty sportive friend,
Little is't to such an end
That I praise thy rareness!
Other dogs may be thy peers
Haply in these drooping ears,
And this glossy fairness.

But of thee it shall be said,
This dog watched beside a bed
Day and night unweary
Watched within a curtained room,
Where no sunbeam brake the gloom
Round the sick and dreary.

Roses, gathered for a vase,
In that chamber died apace,
Beam and breeze resigning.
This dog only, waited on,
Knowing that when light is gone
Love remains for shining.

Other dogs in thymy dew
Tracked the hares, and followed through
Sunny moor or meadow.
This dog only, crept and crept
Next a languid cheek that slept,
Sharing in the shadow.

Other dogs of loyal cheer
Bounded at the whistle clear,
Up the woodside hieing.
This dog only, watched in reach
Of a faintly uttered speech,
Or a louder sighing.

And if one or two quick tears
Dropped upon his glossy ears,
Or a sigh came double
Up he sprang in eager haste,
Fawning, fondling, breathing fast,
In a tender trouble.

And this dog was satisfied
If a pale thin hand would glide
Down his dewlaps sloping
Which he pushed his nose within,
After—platforming his chin
On the palm left open.

Central Park Posies

It makes me happy that each year the city blossoms earlier than Connecticut, because here in town we need the colorful flowers after our long gray winter.

In March these sweet posies break through their bed on dried leaves and pine needles, and brighten not only my day, but also this robin's.

Breakin' the Law

When the mood for danger strikes, rather than the confines of the dog run, Dudley and I prefer the freedom of an obscure grassy knoll.  With spring in the air and the daffodils emerging along the wall, today we couldn't resist.

Since it's highly illegal for dogs to be off leash during certain hours in Carl Schurz Park we use the bushes as subterfuge, and thus far have managed to go undetected.  Keeping Dudley from the fierce pursuit of squirrels (he is a terrier after all) is a temporary fence, which I imagine was erected to prevent people and dogs like us from trampling the winter grass.

The moment Dudley is released he dashes off so quickly that within seconds he becomes a black smudge in the distance, dodging in and out of the shrubbery.  Then he cautiously approaches - his beard stuck with grass and twigs - as if taunting me to catch him before a quick burst of speed whisks him out of reach.