HUNGRY GERALD

Unusual meal last night at the Riverside, RI home of gifted daughter Lesley R. and her brilliant, extraordinary husband, Massimo R. Meal consisted of two dishes: soup and pizza. The soup was a riff on Marcella Hazan’s classic chickpea soup (get the recipe online). Creative BSK made some modifications and it is so good that SJ serves it at his (and wife Maiko’s) Freeman Shokudo izakaya restaurant in Tokyo. Lesley added cannellini to the chickpea mix and the addition gave the soup a creamy, velvety texture. A treat on a rainy night. The other dish was pizza from Flatbread Pizzeria. Crisp, flavorful pizza. We ate the pizza because the pizzeria was doing a charity night with much of the night’s proceeds going to, in Lesley and Massimo’s opinion, a very worthy cause. HG felt happily philanthropic as he devoured the tasty pizza with many, many glasses of red wine. All for a good cause.

Yes, life is good for HG during HG’s lengthy stay at the Riverside, RI home of gifted daughter Lesley R. and her brilliant husband Massimo R. (he is a tenured professor at Brown, author of several books, a powerful force in making Italian culture available digitally, director of Italian cinema events). Lesley and Massimo cater to aged HG’s many needs (they do it with kindness and grace). Lesley’s cuïsine is superb. Yesterday, Lesley shopped at Tony’s seafood store and bought oysters and haddock. The oysters were local Rhode Islanders— Chessawanocks. Shucked expertly by. Massimo, these were the best oysters HG ever tasted. (Just slightly better than PEI South Lakes). The haddock went into a tasty Brazilian soup/stew.served over rice. The fish was poached in a mix of coconut milk, onions, garlic, sweet and hot peppers, paprika and other spices. Oh, boy!! HG ate a big bowl. (Happily, there was enough left over for lunch served to HG and Massimo today). Lesley’s dinners are extraordinary. International cooking that reaches pinnacles of creativity and pleasure.

Riverside, Ri, is getting chilly. But, HG is comfy at the home of gifted daughter, Lesley R., and her equally gifted husband, Profesore Massimo R. (HG hopes that the weather in New Mexico is pleasant for BSK as BSK expedites the arduous move to HG/BSK’s fabulous Providence loft). Lesley’s culinary skills are put to good use as she creates dinners that are tasty, anti-chill and true comfort. Witness tonight’s feast. It began with paper thin slices of Italian prosciutto draped over wedges of sweet and juicy cantaloupe. A judicious grind of black pepper over the ham. A sip of red wine. Pleasure. Main dish was a red lentil stew that was steaming and full of enticing spices. This is one of HG’s favorite dishes (in cold weather or warm). Both Lesley and BSK are expert in cooking this dish (BSK’s version is a bit smoother, Lesley’s has a wee bit of crunch). This was followed by ripe gorgonzola with fig jam (more sips of red wine). Dessert (for HG) was Talenti Sea Salt Caramel Ice Cream. Yes, HG is living good in the Riverside neighborhood.

Philip Johnson (1906-2005) had a long and influential career as a modernist American architect. He partnered with Mies Van Der Rohe in the design of the iconic Seagram Building on New York’s Park Avenue. His glass walled residence in Connecticut is now in The National Trust of Historic Places (When Frank Lloyd Wright visited, he inquired: “Am I inside or outside?”). Johnson-designed office buildings are in almost every major American city. Despite his accomplishments, Johnson was guilty of major errors. In the 1930’s he was a Fascist, a faithful follower of the anti-semitic and Nazi favoring “Radio Priest” Father Coughlin. Johnson apologized later, calling his Fascist years a youthful whim. Later in life, he made another glaring, yet harmless, mistake. He called water views “boring.” Boring? Few views could be more varied and stimulating than those of Rhode Island’s’ Narragansett Bay as seen from the windows and deck of gifted daughter Lesley R. and husband, brilliant Massimo R.’s waterfront home in Riverside, RI. The colors of the waters change throughout the day. At times, schools of tiny fish appear, leaping out of the water before being consumed by hungry birds. Regal swans and other large and colorful avians lodge on the shoreline. Then, there are the boats: Tankers. Barges–big, small and super-gigantic. Large cargo boats. Tug boats. Fishing boats. Sailboats. Motorized pleasure boats of every size (and noise level). Providence to Newport ferries. A feast for the eyes and senses. The climax of Bay gazing is sunset. Astonishing and colorful. Everything is accompanied by the appearance and chirping of numerous birds. The Bay viewing experience is better than TV.

This past summer, BSK encountered a New York Times recipe that contained all the elements HG/BSK enjoy at dinner: “Salmon Soba Noodles With Ponzu-Scallion Broth.” These were the ingredients: Dashi broth, salmon, soba noodles, spinach, firm tofu, scallions, grated ginger, canola oil, sliced radishes, slivers of carrot, ponzu. BSK did a careful mix and followed the recipe meticulously. (Unusual for BSK who likes to deviate and add original touches. This time BSK only substituted spinach for the cabbage called for). It was a sensational dinner dish which BSK promised to repeat often. Drank an abundance of pinot noir (HG/BSK like red wine with fresh salmon; crisp white with smoked salmon, of course). Another joyous evening was had at HG/BSK’s oceanfront home on peaceful, green, democratic Prince Edward Island.

Many, many years ago, youngster HG summer vacationed with HG’s family in a Rockaway Beach boarding house yards from the boardwalk, beach and Atlantic ocean. Every weekend, Armenian families would stake out a sandy space next to the boardwalk. The men dug a spacious ditch upon their early arrival and filled it with abundant charcoal. A seasoned lamb was skewered on a special metal apparatus and placed in the pit a modest distance over the charcoal. The charcoal was lit. Throughout the day, the roasting lamb was basted with a marinade and gently rotated (the roasting apparatus had a wheel to do the job). The sea air was filled with appetizing aromas. The Armenians had many plunges in the surf, picking their way through the bodies that jam packed the proletarian beach. The savory lamb was done in mid-afternoon. A dexterous fellow heaped sand on the charcoal to staunch its heat, and, skillfully filled platters with sliced lamb. Eating began. There were juicy sliced tomatoes, Romaine lettuce, an unusual middle eastern potato dish, and bread. There was a flagon of olive oil plus. many jugs of red wine. The meal was civilized–but filled with gusto and laughter. The Armenians set up folding tables and chairs. No plastic–real plates, glasses, silverware and cloth napkins. Young HG was a stealthy voyeur and observed all stages of the cooking and eating. High hopes of getting a taste of that roast lamb. No such luck. The Armenians were meticulous about cleaning up and packing. Much sand on the diminished charcoal. When they left the beach it looked and felt that they were never there. All of these thoughts came to HG last night. Lesley R.’s lovely friend, Diane, is of Armenian heritage and a skilled Armenian cook (Lesley is HG/BSK’s brilliant and thoughtful daughter. HG is living the good life in the Riverside, RI, home she shares with husband Massimo. Meanwhile BSK is in New Mexico preparing HG/BSK’s move to a Providence loft). Diane brought HG and Lesley a fabulous Armenian dinner of soup (Panjarbour),  pickled beets and semolina cake. Sublime and welcome meal. HG never tasted anything like the Panjarbour. It contained spinach, red lentils  and Armenian hulled wheat, unusual spices and herbs. The soup reached the pinnacle of comfort. HG has always enjoyed Armenian food. A favorite New York restaurant was Ed Berberian’s Balkan-Armenian Restaurant. It was located off Lexington Avenue in the East 20’s. HG ate there often (it was the second restaurant HG took BSK to during courtship more than half a century ago—the first was long closed Bo-Bo’s in Chinatown). With Rockaway memories in mind, HG always ate tasty lamb shish kebabs at Balkan-Armenian plus cheese borek (fabulous fried dumplings), rice pilaf, stuffed grape leaves, chopped eggplant, baklava, etc. Very, very good and very, very inexpensive. Despite a tragic history, Armenians can still enjoy life and bring joy–culinary and spiritual–to others.

West 47th Street (between Fifth Avenue and Avenue of the Americas) is The Diamond District. Very, Jewish. Scores and scores of dealers in diamonds and precious jewelry (Many Hasidim in their traditional garb—a midwestern female friend thought they were Amish). For some peculiar reason, it was the site of New York’s first sushi restaurant. Maybe the owners thought sushi was kosher. Daring HG was one of the first sushi customers. Hated the raw fish. Agreed with that TV character who said: “It might be good if they fried it up.”. HG gave it a second chance–after all, millions of sagacious Japanese can’t be wrong about a favorite dish. HG became a sushi addict (as did HG’s family). Sushi became HG’s favorite meal. HG concentrated on modest restaurants. Those $500-1,000 tastings are for oligarchs. HG is living in Riverside, RI, temporarily (BSK is still in New Mexico orchestrating the move to HG/BSK’s newly purchased Providence loft). HG receives loving care (and fabulous cuisine) from HG/BSK’s brilliant and gifted daughter, Lesley R. Today was a tough day for Lesley (she has an important job as communications director for one of Rhode Island’s largest health providers). Her office has been flooded so she’s been working at home juggling career and home responsibilities (including taking care of her infirm Dad). Today, Lesley dealt with professional emergencies; plumbers who removed a broken toilet; tree surgeons who gave her estimates for removing a dead tree; the delivery of a cord of firewood (and eventual stacking). She also fed and walked the dogs, Pip and Toby (talked to the vet who gave her bad news about darling Pip). Finally, she went to Home Depot, bought a toilet and managed to get it into her car). Whew!! Fortunately, a Japanese restaurant is nearby and Lesley brought home a sumptuous feast. Let’s hope tomorrow is a happier time for this glorious woman.`

One of life’s pleasures is listening to the late Dave Frishberg (accompanying himself on the piano) singing the witty songs he composed. Three HG favorites are “Van Lingle Mungo”, “My Attorney Bernie”, “I’m Hip.” He also wrote and sang “Do You Miss New York?” Urban and urbane Dave’s answer was: Yes. HG thought about missing New York. Not really. New York today is meant for oligarchs and the New York HG loved has changed. Of course, there are things HG misses. Here’s a partial list. Central Park. Chinatown. The Bronx’s Arthur Avenue. Pastrami. Museums. Russ & Daughters. Zabar’s. Pumpernickel bread, Jewish rye bread. Bialys. Grand Central Oyster Bar. Riverside Drive. Chrysler Building. Queens restaurants. HG daughter, Vicki Freeman and husband Marc Meyer’s Manhattan restaurants (Rosie’s, Shukette, Shuka, Cookshop, Vic’s). Empire State Building. Seagram Building. Sammy’s (gone);Jewish “dairy” restaurants (one or two remain); Citarella’s. Most of all HG misses those former Brooklynites–now in Tokyo–Son Jeremy; his wonderful wife, Exquisite Maiko; HG’s delightful grandkids, Haru and Teru. Facetime will have to do.

Many, many decades ago, BSK was a pesto pioneer. HG/BSK tasted it in Italy and were enthusiastic. At HG/BSK’s then home in Montclair, NJ, BSK would make many jars of the wonderful stuff. Olive oil, basil, garlic, pignolia nuts, parmesan (and a bit of Italian parsley) would go into the food processor (blended for only moments to retain texture). Presto!! Green heaven. BSK would coat thick slices of the wondrous Jersey tomatoes BSK cultivated in BSK’s vegetable garden with pesto (BSK also gew the super fresh basil). Spoonfuls of pesto adorned broiled, fried and steamed fish filets. Best use was pesto mixed with linguine or spaghetti accompanied by grated parmesan and hot pepper (the righteous companion was fruity red wine). Not everyone shared the HG/BSK’ family’s pesto delight. An SJ friend said when served a dish of pasta with pesto: “A-a–rgh!! Green spaghetti!!”—and refused to eat it. HG liked pasta pesto ringed by potato slices and broccoli. Tonight, in Riverside, RI, gifted daughter Lesley R. had an abundance of basil and made pesto before the herb aged. Exuberantly tasty. HG had a big bowl of linguine smothered in pesto. As usual, Lesley served HG (tummy has shrunk) a giant portion. Sprinkled with parmesan and chili powder, HG managed to eat 3/4ths. The rest will make a salubrious lunch for HG tomorrow. (Lesley’s version of pesto tonight was groundbreaking – arugula, olive oil, cashew nuts, goat cheese, basil, parmesan, garlic. Lush creativity).

No one could be more thoughtful and caring in catering to HG’s food needs than HG’s beloved daughter, the gifted Lesley R. Here’s an example. For dinner last night, Lesley warmed up a pot of her flavorful Japanese beef and squash stew. Because cancer surgery (thirty years ago) has constricted HG’s swallowing, Lesley adjusted HG’s steaming bowl of this comforting stew. HG has trouble swallowing meat so Lesley replaced the meat in HG’s bowl with slices of excellent semi-firm tofu (HG consumes this protein easily). A squirt of PEI hot sauce. Many glasses of red wine. Happy HG. This was followed by Bonne Maman chestnut puree topped with whipped cream. And, yes, more red wine. Thanks to Lesley, HG lives in a joyous comfort zone.