HUNGRY GERALD

In the early years of their marriage, HG and BSK often suffered from the money shorts. This did not prevent the Young Marrieds (and recent parents) from living very well. Indeed, when wallets were empty, HG and BSK went to the sumptuous Oak Room of the Plaza Hotel where HG had a charge account. The Oak Room radiated chic and old fashioned glamour. HG and BSK once dined at a table next to one occupied by Cary Grant and a merry party. It was a fitting setting for that most debonair of movie stars.

And what was on the menu for impecunious but happy HG and BSK? Beverages: Icy vodka martinis (for HG), carafes of the very good house Chablis and house burgundy (for BSK and HG) . First course: Thinly sliced Scottish smoked salmon with capers, lemon and olive oil. Buttered brown bread. Main: Tournedos (rare chunks of the center of beef tenderloin) in a fragrant wine sauce. Sides: Souffle potatoes wrapped in a linen napkin and served in a silver dish. Braised celery topped with beef marrow. Dessert: Chocolate pots de creme. Truly luxe dining. And, the Plaza never murmured when it took HG six months to pay the bill.

A lasting peace between Arabs and Israelis. Decades of war and diplomacy have failed to bring it about. Yet, tonight at Chez HG/BSK harmony will reign between the two cultures as they make a bow to the troubled but tasty Middle East. Tel-Aviv style Falafel is brilliantly complemented by the smoky earthiness of BSK’s inimitable Baba Ganoush. Hummus dusted with Spanish piquant smoked paprika welcomes the coolness of Greek yogurt topped with za’atar. Olives. Cucumber. Chopped sweet onions and tomatoes with Sicilian olive oil (Sicilian cuisine much influenced by Arab occupation centuries ago). Lots of warm pita.

Dessert: More Greek yogurt with walnuts and New Mexico honey. The wine: A modest California Cabernet.

Peace reigns…In the stomach at least.

Mussels are a splendid food. Relatively inexpensive. Tasty. Healthy. But, heed HG: Only Prince Edward Island Mussels are worth eating. Like the Island itself, PEI mussels are a gentle taste underscored by a firm body. They are invariably sand and grit free and their mellow flavor marries perfectly with myriad sauces and preparations. Maine mussels seem to lack substance. New Zealand mussels are over sized and tasteless.

Here’s how HG prepares mussels: Soften onions and garlic in a spacious saute pan. When soft, add the mussels. Add a bottle of clam juice (or some fish stock if you have it) and some white wine. Mix with salt and red pepper flakes plus chopped Italian parsley. Cover. Turn up heat to moderate high and cook until the mussels are open. Top with some more parsley. You can serve these as a starter with some crusty bread to sop up the sauce; for something more substantial, cook some linguine and add the pasta to the steamed mussels.

Always cook more mussels than you can eat. Take the left overs out of their shells and refrigerate. Next day mix them with some mustard mayonnaise. You’ve got a great lunch or dinner appetizer.

The frozen in time New York bistro, Le Veau D’or, always served a big freebie of mussels in mustard mayonnaise. In days of yore, HG would consume them with an icy martini. That would be followed by Beaujolais and steak frites. Nice workday lunch. If HG attempted it today, HG would be off to slumberland before putting down knife and fork.

Just back from sunny morning at the Santa Fe Farmers Market. Bought lots of baby lettuce and field greens. Some nice Daikon radish. Healthy sprouts. Semolina pasta. Got some very mild, roasted green chiles for a pork stew. HG has become wary of native grown chile. What folks from Chimayo call “medium” can set a gringo on fire. But, the Santa Fe market isn’t just about food. There’s very good music ranging from bluegrass to classical cello. And, to understate, a very colorful crowd. Retired movie stars. Ex-hippies. Texas plutocrats. Followers of various gurus and spiritual guides. You name it, Santa Fe’s got it.

During HG’s college days (not a century ago…but close), HG had to choose between two venues for HG’s romantic Saturday night dinner-and-movie dates.

There was the inevitable Chinese restaurant which charged 50 to 75 cents for a choice of egg drop or wonton soup; a “combo” platter and a desert of an almond cookie with tea. And, there was the more ambitious, but still very affordable, Spanish restaurant, La Bilbaina, on West 14th Street which was at the heart of the now extinct “Little Spain” neighborhood. La Bilbaina had bullfighting posters, exciting flamenco music on its sound track and candles on its tables. A scene to stir tender emotions. Dinner consisted of a large bowl of spicy bean and kale soup followed by an oversize platter of yellow rice, lots of red beans and hot chorizo. In fact, much of the La Bilbania menu consisted of beans in various forms and lots of garlic. The beverage was a rough and ready sangria. To call the wine plonk would be dignifying it, but it quenched the thirst. Dessert was flan. Total cost of dinner a deux (with tip) hovered around $3.50.

One may question whether a meal chock full of beans was the proper prelude to romance. Gallant HG and his earthy girl friends found a bit of musical accompaniment no impediment to young amour.

HG and BSK were active opponents of the Vietnam War, participants in every type of political action, demonstration and peace march. HG thought the “Domino Theory” was a hoax and that the trend in the Far East was toward Capitalism and not Communism. HG decried the waste of American (and Vietnamese) lives and the disruption and polarization of American society.

At the time HG made these predictions: North Vietnam would win and unify the country (The Vietminh, the Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese Army were fighting in and for their country and were perfectly capable of continuing the conflict for decades). Vietnam would become a tourist destination. The United States would get a lot of splendid Vietnamese restaurants.

A very prescient HG. Political sage HG doesn’t know the eventual outcome of the current middle east turmoil but can safely predict the US will gain lots of restaurants featuring tasty kebabs and other delicacies of the region.

Zero Mostel portrait on last post spurred HG thoughts about that comic genius/egomaniac/monster. He got his unusual name when he made his debut at the Cafe Society night club in Greenwich Village. He had no background. No reputation. Therefore, he was dubbed “Zero.” Of course, he was a sensation and his career took off like a comet until he was blacklisted in the Joe McCarthy Red Menace era. Zero named no names and rebuffed the inquisitors. He retired to his studio in the wholesale flower district of Manhattan and painted. He was quite a good painter. He outlasted McCarthy and triumphed in film with “The Producers,” and on Broadway with “Fiddler on the Roof,” and many other plays.

HG remembers waiting before the smoked fish counter at Zabar’s, the renowned food emporium on the Upper West Side. Zero was there and he and HG chatted and expressed mutual admiration for Zabar’s Russian pumpernickel bread. HG told Zero pumpernickel and chicken fat had been his favorite after school snack. Commented Zero: “Pumpernickel and chicken fat killed more Jews than Hitler.”

In the Bronx of HG’s youth, Jewish delicatessens often had a bowl of salami chunks on the counter with a sign: “A Nickel A Shtickel.” The literal Yiddish translation of “shtick” is: “a piece.”  You got it. “Shtickel” is the diminutive i.e. “a little piece.” Hungry customers could nibble “ah shtickel” while their pastrami and corned beef orders were being sliced.

All of this has made HG muse on Yiddish show biz terms. “Shtick”, of course, means a comic routine or a performer’s riff of some type. The term has been broadened to include all sorts of political and sales approaches.

“Schmaltz” is chicken fat. It is also the term for sentimental, over-dramatic emoting. “Schmaltzy” music or “schmaltzy” acting, therefore is that which is solely intended to pluck the heart strings (or clog those heart strings as shmaltz tends to do).

A performer of talent who lacks the ability to emotionally move an audience is known as a “lox.” A curious designation, since “lox” is the salty, highly flavored cut of smoked salmon favored by folk with hearty tastes. In performing terms, the opposite of a “lox” is a “shtarker” — a performer who uses every means at his (or her) disposal to excite or grab an audience (by the “kishkas” as they might say). Al Jolson, Bobby Darin, Liza Minelli, Zero Mostel, Bette Midler, Billy Daniels, Louis Armstrong—all “shtarkers”. The word literally means a tough, strong guy. In the Europe of yesteryear, when Jew haters attacked scholars, merchants, etc., “shtarkers” were summoned — Jewish guys who worked with their hands and who did not back down from a fight.

Amazing to think that many of these Yiddishisms have made the leap from the old, Odessa ghettos to the Lower East Side Vaudville circuit to finally entering our shared American vernacular in such a permanent way that a Presidential speech could be described in a major Newspaper as “schmaltzy.” Certainly a development that the great Boris Thomashefsky couldn’t have foreseen!

Outside of the cuisine of Exquisite Maiko. HG’s daughter-in-law, HG’s favorite Japanese dining experience is “izakaya.” Izakaya restaurants are noisy, informal and joyous. They serve a large and eclectic variety of small plates and focus on the consumption of beer, shochu and sake.

Happily, Shibumi Ramenya in downtown Santa Fe has introduced Izakaya. Thursday night is Izakaya night at the little bistro. HG and BSK will be there. Here were some of the items on last Thursday’s izakaya menu: Cod and potato croquettes; barbeque pork rib with grilled quail egg; grilled squid; yakitori chicken; meat balls with corn in spicy yamajirushi; spinach and napa cabbage ohitashi. And more. Much more. A mug of beer or some nice, chilled sake should go nicely with this cuisine.

Daughter Lesley R. alerted Hungry Gerald and SJ to an error involving spaghetti with sardine sauce. In a recent post, HG commented on Sicilian sardine sauce, calling it “pasta al sardo.”

Corrected LR: “Pasta al sardo” means pasta cloaked in a sauce rendered from a gentleman of Sardinian descent. “Pasta con el sarde” is a more appetizing concoction involving sardines.

Although we have no doubt that, to a cannibal, Sardinians may be tasty, we have made the requisite correction and will always check with LR in the future regarding proper Italian spelling!