HUNGRY GERALD

If you want to laugh and to think and to glory in good writing just go to the right of HG’s words and log into Bob Judd’s blog. I see Bob every ten years or so. If absence is supposed to make the heart grow fonder you can see why I admire him excessively.  Bob’s a poet, a novelist (he’s kind of the Dick Francis of auto racing). He’s been a top flight advertising copy writer and executive (creative director of the Ford account in Europe for J. Walter Thompson before the huge agency was absorbed by the Brits). He’s lived in many places, usually accompanied by attractive women. When Bob was living in London (in a modernist house by the great architect Erno Goldfinger) he prepared a most memorable meal. Simplicity itself. He poached a side of fresh salmon in a court boullion. He boiled some little potatoes. He did a sauce of butter, lemon and capers. Then…a stroke of Juddian genius. He poached some heads of fennel in chicken stock and at least a pound and a half of butter. Voluptuous, to say the very least. It was all preceded by, accompanied and followed by a great deal of alcohol. Sheer delight.  Then a walk-it-off saunter through the autumnal majesty of Hampstead Heath (where The General met his violent end in John Le’Carre’s “Smiley’s People”).  Gentle reader, the headline of this appreciation of Bob Judd–the man, the cuisine, the blog–may seem a bit puzzling. Well, Bob is a big guy and a former tackle on the Williams College football team. The nickname of these violent scholars (possibly the silliest in grid history): The Ephmen.

§ 2 Responses to The Ephman"

• Bob Judd says:

  December 9, 2010 at 2:39 pm

  What a fine blog, young Freeman.
  Had I the benefit of your paean and pipes I’d have sold many times more books.
  Glad you enjoyed the salmon in Hampstead. Spread foie gras on Freeman’s cracker and he’ll follow you anywhere.
  Only the smallest of quibbles (about which only I care.) I was the fullback and linebacker back in those distant days when football players played both ways. As for our silly name, blame Williams founder’s mama who named him Ephraim Williams b. 1715. For real silliness you should know that our mascot was a purple cow.
  Blog on, noble blogger.
  cheers,

  Bob Judd

  Reply
  • Gerry says:

    December 9, 2010 at 4:25 pm

    Rather see than be one. A purple cow comment from Gelett Burgess, forgotten poet.

    Reply