HUNGRY GERALD

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!

The wonders do not cease. Last night Exquisite Maiko prepared Japanese summer rolls. HG tried to deconstruct but failed. Essentially, these resembled the traditional Vietnamese rice paper rolls. However, EM’s version enclosed a super-thin egg crepe, soba (rather than rice) noodles, slivers of cucumber and scallion. The rolls were dipped in mentsuyu. Bliss. This was followed by chunks of swordfish cooked by EM’s saute-braise-steam technique. The result was, once more, succulent, juicy fish that tasted as if it emerged from the sea only moments before. EM made a sauce of blender pureed onions, sesame oil and a hint of garlic. Simple. Perfect. The fish dish was served on a bed of fresh greens.

Please note: Outside of the one egg used for the crepes there was neither meat nor fowl used in this meal and only a tiny bit of grapeseed and sesame oil. Yet, the tastes were lush and deeply satisfying. Does this mean farewell to steak for HG and BSK?

SJ is back in Brooklyn tending to biz but daughter-in-law Exquisite Maiko and grandson Inimitable Haru remain in New Mexico for a few more days. This means pure Maiko Magic in the kitchen. HG and BSK were dazzled last night by a halibut, salad and Soba noodle dinner that exemplified the Maiko approach: Simplicity. Purity. Taste. Visual beauty.

HG watched the preparation carefully but might have missed some steps or ingredients. First, Maiko sliced cucumber paper thin, washed and dried baby arugula and some other field greens; sliced garlic very thinly. Halibut was cut into slightly larger than bite size pieces. Garlic and seaweed went into a sizzling pan. The garlic and seaweed quickly crisped and were placed on a paper towel to drain. The garlic was perfectly crisp and brown with none of the bitterness that burning can cause — its a cooking trick HG has never mastered. Then came the real magic part. Heat under the pan was raised to moderate. The fish went into the pan with some white wine and a bit of sesame oil. The pan was covered and the fish was alternately seared by the heat and steamed to perfection.

Maiko arranged a platter. An enticing circle of cucumber and a mound of salad greens as the base for the fish. Acting upon some clock in her head, Maiko removed the fish from the range, placed the pieces on the base of greens, sprinkled all with pan juices and topped it with the crisp garlic and seaweed mixture. There was room temperature Soba on the table, enriched by Mentsuyu (a broth of sorts) and thin strips of nori (the dried seaweed that wraps sushi rolls and hand rolls). Wasabi was at hand. HG and BSK were startled by the halibut. Not a favorite fish, considered tasteless. But, this was halibut full of juice and flavor. The garlic chips didn’t mask the taste but just added a crisp counterpoint to the lush halibut. There will be more fish tonight. We are grateful to the Shinto gods, Japanese culture and Maiko’s wizardry.

Last night SJ (visiting at HG and BSK’s Santa Fe home with his family) produced a large bowl of spaghetti with sardine sauce. It was one of the very best pasta dishes in HG’s memory. It deviated from the traditional Sicilian Spaghetti con el Sarde but retained that magic island’s ambiance (hopefully, SJ will share his recipe in a forthcoming post).

In any case, it made HG make a mental revisit to Sicily. It is the isle of the most superb ruins of Grecian temples, air fragrant with herbs, sea and mountain vistas and a history of violence, foreign occupation, blood and vengeance. It has been the subject of HG’s favorite novel, “The Leopard,” by Lampedusa and HG’s two favorite films, “The Godfather–Part One and Part Two.” It is an island that has been glorified, romanticized, vulgarized; however, HG’s knowledge of Italy and Sicily is as thin as capeliini. For real insight into the historical and social realities of Sicily, HG will always turn to his intellectually gifted son-in-law, Profesore/Dottore M. who grew up in Siracusa.

Profesore / Dottore M. was also HG and BSK’s incomparable guide to Sicily and to the wonders of the local cuisine. In Palermo, HG tasted a variety of little fried yummies (including spleen) that sing in HG’s mind. There was also pasta with a sea urchin sauce. In Siracusa there were fried cuttlefish. In a small town, HG had the definitive Pasta a la Norma (eggplant sauce) and, of course, there was swordfish and tuna cooked in a variety of ways. And, not to be forgotten, the cornucopia of Sicilian sweets and baked goods. In the terrace restaurant of a hotel in Taormina (certainly the town with the loveliest sea views in the world) HG and BSK enjoyed spaghetti with sardine sauce (enhanced with raisins and pignolias evoking Sicily’s occupation by Arabs many centuries ago). Awfully good. But, HG must be honest (nepotism being not to blame). SJ’s was better.

(Flattery gets one everywhere, says SJ, and so the recipe is divulged. Gather together 1 medium red onion, 4 to 5 cloves of garlic, red pepper flakes, 5 nice plum tomatoes, 2 tablespoons tomato paste, 1/4 cup chicken or vegetable broth, a nice handful of Italian parsley, 2 tablespoons capers, 2 anchovy fillets, a can of (preferably) Portuguese Sardines packed in Olive oil and of course of package of Spaghetti.

Fill a big pasta pot with heavily salted cold water and set to boil. Mince the garlic and red onion and saute in olive oil. Once these soften a bit add some red pepper flakes (to taste) and chop up your anchovies and add them to the pan. Really cook this mixture down so that the onions and garlic carmalize a bit and the anchovies dissolve. Then chop up your plum tomatoes and add them to the pan alongside the tomato paste. Stir everything together and add the chicken broth (if mixture seems too thick add some more broth). Raise heat to a lazy simmer and add the capers and sardines. Add salt and pepper to taste and let simmer for fifteen minutes. Hopefully your pasta water has reached a boil at this point so add your pasta. Cook your pasta until it is a touch underdone (that is a touch before optimal AL DENTE!) and add it to your sauce alongside about 1/2 to a full cup of your pasta water. Raise the heat and keep stirring until your pasta has absorbed some sauce and taste for doneness. When ready add the chopped parsley and serve!)

Eggplant Parmigiana is a bad dish. HG never enjoyed it. Basically, a piece of oil soaked fried eggplant, rubbery mozzarella and insipid tomato sauce. What’s to like? Same goes for Veal Parm. Good way to destroy delicate, tasty meat. HG opts for classic Wiener Schnitzel. HG never liked Minestrone. Why have this meaningless vegetable soup when you can splurge on Pasta e Fagioli (the beloved “Pastafazool” of Fiorello H. LaGuardia, New York’s best Mayor) ? Fritto Misto, the Italian melange of fried fish and shellfish pales in comparison to my daughter-in-law Maiko’s Tempura. Maiko’s Tempura is as exquisite as she is. Handling chopsticks with maestro deftness, Maiko produces pieces of shrimp, sole, halibut and scallops of ineffable lightness without a trace of oil. Just crispness. Fresh sea tastes. Eat her sea nuggets fast or they’ll float off the plate. Pass that chilled sake, please. Uh oh…Is HG getting in trouble with the Italian Anti-Defamation League?.

There is an eggplant dish, Turkish in origin, called Imam Bayildi.An overrated bit of food, in HG’s opinion. Essentially, you scoop out the soft interior of a long roasted eggplant. Mash it with tomatoes, onions, etc. Blanch the exterior of the eggplant. Recompose the eggplant into round or oval slices and bake them in the oven. Is it worth all the bother? No. HG will stick with the much simpler Baba Ghanoush. “Imam Bayildi,” roughly translated from Turkish, means “the Imam fainted.” Culinary lore has it that that a Turkish Imam passed out with delight when he first tasted this dish.

HG’s commentary: This must have been a very austere Imam leading a very monastic life in the desert. A more legitimate treat (sex, for example) would have killed him.

Baba Ghanoush. HG suggests you roll these two words around your mouth. Sounds delicious, doesn ‘t it? It is. Basically a spicy eggplant puree, baba ghanoush can be the center piece of a fast, simple Middle Eastern meal.

Here’s how you do it: Prick an eggplant all over with a fork and roast it at 400 degrees until it’s soft. When soft, scoop out the interior and discard the skin. Mash the eggplant with a lot of minced garlic, some tahini, lemon juice, cumin. Salt and pepper, of course. HG will not give specific proportions. Be creative and make it your own creation. Some very finely minced onion can be added, if you like. Form it into a mound. Make a well in the middle and fill with fruity (HG likes Sicilian) olive oil and drizzle some over the rest. Sprinkle with Za’atar. Surround with Kalamata olives and sliced tomatoes. If you want some heat add some Italian hot pepper flakes. Goes good with lamb chops and lamb burgers. Pass the warm pita.

Passover is here and that means, among many other things, that it’s time for one of HG’s favorite breakfast treats: matzo brei (pronounced bry..rhyming with dry). Here’s the classic recipe: Beat two eggs with salt and pepper. Break up two whole matzos into small pieces. Soak the pieces in cold water for a few minutes until soft. Drain and gently squeeze out the water. Drop the pieces into the beaten eggs. Heat a mixture of butter and vegetable oil until it sizzles. Cook the matzo/egg mixture under low heat for a few minutes until the bottom sets. Turn over and brown the other side. Serve hot. (This is from Claudia Roden’s wonderful “The Book of Jewish Food.”) Mrs. Roden says this quantity is enough for two but HG could easily knock it off himself. Indeed, he is Hungry Gerald. HG , irreverently, likes to top off the matzo brei with some thick cut, natural bacon. Don’t tell the Rabbi. Ah shandeh!! (a shame, a disgrace).

In 1957, a super-cool pal of HG took him to lunch at Nom Wah Tea Parlor on Doyers Street in New York’s Chinatown. In the days of the Tong Wars when Chinese gangs fought for control of opium, gambling and extortion rackets, Doyers (which is shaped like an elbow) was called “The Bloody Angle” and it was a veritable killing field. But, all was peaceful when HG dug into a meal of steamed and fried dumplings, pork buns, spare ribs and other savories. HG learned this type was food was known by the collective name: Dim Sum. The Dim Sum was brought to the table on carts wheeled by serious Chinese women. The danger was stuffing oneself on the offerings of one cart when an even better cart was waiting in the wings. Condiments were hot mustard and Hoisin sauce. The beverage was tea, of course, but HG supplemented this with a bottle of cognac. That first visit led to scores more. BSK became a devotee as did gifted daughter LR and SJ. Nom Wah was ludicrously cheap, of course, as was everything in the Chinatown of that era. HG had many feasts of fried crabs in eggs sauce ($1.75 at Wing Fat) , shrimp in black bean sauce ($1.25 at Yuet Sun) and other laughably priced delicacies up and down Mott Street. How about surprisingly good grilled pork liver for 45 cents? In oncoming years Chinatown was flooded with huge, Hong Kong-style dim sum parlors. HG hasn’t been to Nom Wah in years and didn’t know if it even existed anymore. Voila! Nice story in NY Times a few days ago. Still in business under management of new generation of owners. No carts. Dim sum made to order. Still good. Still cheap. Decor has been kept the same with only some very minor refurbishments. Can’t wait to get back and refresh happy memories.

Uncharacteristically, HG wandered into a healthy, Vegan restaurant yesterday. Off on a tedious errand and it was the only place around. Had a nice meal of green sludge, orange sludge and orange/green sludge. Never mind that this bland pap was supposed to be Saag Paneer, Spiced Root Vegetables and a Tofu-Pumpkin thing — it was terrible. Never again. Life is too short and there are too many good things out there.

The imponderable: Why is this type of healthy, ecologically responsible, spiritual food so tasteless? Why does it show so little respect to the preparation of vegetables? How is it that foods such as Vietnamese or Southern Indian can be so healthy, yet so vibrant, so DELICIOUS?

Saving grace of the restaurant (which HG will leave nameless) is the clientele. Mainly graceful, lovely women of all ages happily scoffing down the sludge.