HUNGRY GERALD

Flushing is a Queens neighborhood adjacent to the old New York World’s Fair sites.  Just 30 minutes from Times Square. Correction: Chinatown is a neighborhood.  Flushing is not a neighborhood.  It is a city, an Asian city plunked down in New York.  The only thing comparable in North America is the island of Richmond next to Vancouver, B.C.  Scores and scores of Chinese and Korean restaurants.  Asian supermarkets.  Fragrant variety of street food.  The chicken lady does charcoal grilled chicken yakitori (chicken kebabs on a stick).  She dips the lightly charred chicken in a dark pool of goodness.  A buck a yakitori.  The line stretches around the block.  Rightfully so.  Chinese mystery.  An unmarked door in an apartment house. Open and enter.  The food aromas are overwhelming.  You are in a souk-like maze of stalls, each equippd with gas ranges and ovens, turning out an astounding variety of grills, stews, noodles, soups, stir-fries, steamed dumplings and more.  Food that adventurous HG has never tasted…grilled cumin lamb on a bun, broad noodles with preserved vegetables and duck, for example.  Hygiene is not strictly enforced.  The sanitary facilities are not third world..they are fourth world, maybe fifth world.  Nevertheless, an experience no food obsessive should miss.  Another don’t miss is Hahn Ji Bahk, a Korean barbecue bistro on a side street.  This was the venue of son Jeremy’s birthday bash.  In attendance: HG, Beautiful Sharon, Jeremy, wife Maiko, grandson Haru.  Plus Jeremy pals Jay,  Jan and Brad.  A ten foot long table covered with every variety of kimchi, salads,  greens,  hot and mild sauces; sauteed, steamed and fresh vegetables.  That’s a pared down list.  Meal started with scallion and shrimp pancakes topped with hot sauce.  Shoju (a Korean spirit that is a cross between sake and vodka).  Korean beer.  Hot, spicy ruby red Korean beef and cabbage soup (very Eastern European).  More pancakes.  Kimchi and side dishes. Rice and beans.  Shoju and beer.  More pancakes.  Two burners on the table were heated and serious barbecue eating began. Thick pieces of juicy pork dipped in vinegar and chopped peanuts and wrapped in thin slices of daikon radish.  Thin slices of beef and hot sauce wrapped in lettuce leaves.  More shoju.  More beer.  Much more.  Final dish: A remarkable egg souffle. Much laughter.  Noise.  Ribald stories.  Love.  Who could ask for more?