HUNGRY GERALD

Irish cuisine has never been noted for its gourmet quality. Of course,with the Celtic Tiger growling, cuisine,I gather, reached some very attractive heights. Don’t know what has happened since the Tiger has become a sickly Pussycat dependent on the kindness of strangers. Which brings me to the New York Irish saloons I frequented during my 1950’s carer as a journalist. Every Irish saloon served robust food to its clientele (admittedly more interested in alcohol than victuals.)  The bill of fare consisted of hard boiled eggs,pickled pig knuckles and corned beef and cabbage (this was the signature dish that confirmed the gin joint’s reputation.) One saloon,however, did achieve distinction in the kitchen with one dish. Because of it Conolly’s on Third Avenue and 23rd Street was always filled with cops,firemen,transit workers,steamfitters,longshoremen and impecunious journalists like Hungry Gerald. The dish was a pot roast sandwich on rye. The tender,juicy slices of roast were soaked in a rich, brown gravy. A bowl of the gravy was provided for dipping. As a bow to healthy eating a vegetable–a sour dill pickle–was provided. Accompanied by a bottle of Ballantine’s India Pale Ale one was in Gaelic heaven. Fie upon those who have described a seven course Irish banquet as a six pack and a potato.