Menu Three

We called it stormy Monday—a cold March day on the tail end of a New York winter. A group of friends had planned a night on the town, but given the nasty weather—the forecast was for more severe storms—we decided it would clearly be more fun to stay in. Eating well would be our revenge once again.

The plan was to get a fire going in the fireplace at my sister’s, chill a lot of Champagne, and take our time cooking dinner. We had no menu in mind, preferring to head for the market and employ the “take a look, see what shines” approach. The Union Square Greenmarket had lots of Italian chicories: radicchio, Treviso, speckled escarole, pale blanched curly endive, rose-hued Belgian endive, and dandelion (not a true chicory, but similarly bitter-sweet). A sparkling salad took shape before our eyes. Unmoved by the butcher shop (meat did not raise our spirits that day), we pressed on to the fish store, where we discovered fat oysters glistening with promise, somehow enhancing the wetness of the weather. The group was still growing, so panfrying fish wouldn’t work. We needed something elastic, like a stew or a roast. When I got to the lobster tank it was suddenly clear: lobster risotto.