HUNGRY GERALD

Halvah (also spelled “halva” , halawa” and “halwa”) is an ancient sweet treat created in Turkey more than 3,000 years ago. Composed of ground sesame seeds, egg whites and sugar syrup, it is HG’s pleasant dinner finale with the last of red wine. Halvah can be purchased in slices (from Zabar’s and Russ & Daughters) and online in cans, jars and other containers. HG’s favorite is ARZ Halawa from Lebanon. This has the added crunch of pistachios added to the mix. HG began savoring halvah when very young. Joyva halvah was found on the counters of every candy store, grocer and “appetizing” store in Jewish neighborhoods of The Bronx. Usually took the form of halvah bars covered in milk chocolate. Halvah was introduced to the United States in 1907 by Nathan Radutzky, a 24-year-old Russian-Jewish immigrant who arrived with a recipe and little else. He sold his halvah from pushcarts on the lower east side before establishing a factory in Brooklyn. The product was brand named “Joyva” and packages had a drawing of a Turkish sultan. The company is still in operation and still family owned. The Brooklyn factory now encompasses more than 100,000 square feet and grinds millions of pounds of sesame seeds annually.The product line has expanded to other confections. All certified kosher, of course. Orthodox Jews are major consumers.

HG/BSK’s daughter-in-law, Maiko Sakamoto Freeman, is exquisite, graceful, diminutive. Surprisingly strong for her size. She is a professional chef and the best (BSK is #2) home cook HG has ever encountered. Maiko has beguiled HG/BSK with her incomparable gyoza, tempura, soups and stews. Oxtail soup a la Maiko banishes winter. When on Prince Edward Island during the summer, Maiko challenges heat waves with soba noodles in ice cold broth. This is accompanied by seafood and vegetable tempura. Superb. Despite chilly weather, HG/BSK tried to duplicate the dish. The broth was one part soba noodle soup base (Shirakiku brand) to three parts ice water. BSK cooked the noodles (al dente) and mixed the broth. HG did a quick fry of one pound of Pacific sole from Whole Foods. Noodles went on the bottom of the bowl. Broth was poured over according to the diner’s discretion. Topped with thin strips of nori. Jar of wasabi on the table. Bite of hot fish. Spoonful of cold noodles and broth. Sips of white wine made this dinner of hot and cold a revelation. Thanks, Exquisite Maiko.

Like most of male America, HG watched the AFC and NFC playoffs. HG did his viewing nestled in HG’s super comfortable classic Eames lounge chair and ottoman. And, like most of America, HG seethed with anger at the injustice done to the New Orleans Saints. HG refers, of course, to the infamous failure of the refs to call a pass interference call on the LA Rams for a blatant helmet to helmet hit on a Saints receiver at a crucial point in the game. The Rams should have been called for both interference and unnecessary roughness on the play. There was no call and the injustice cost the Saints the game and the opportunity to go to the Super Bowl. HG thinks the NFL should fire those refs (Saints fans would suggest the gallows). The AFC playoff displayed true courage:”Grace under pressure” (was it Hemingway who coined that phrase?). The Chiefs’ phenomenal young quarterback, Patrick Mahomes, brought his team back from a deficit to an overtime challenge. Then, Tom Brady of the Patriots, the greatest quarterback of all time, took over for his team. With grace and elegance, he targeted his favorites, Gronk and Edelman, and won the game and a trip to the Super Bowl. HG savored the victory with a big bowl of BSK’s chili (smothered in chopped sweet onions, grated cheddar cheese and pico de gallo). Drank much Bass Ale. If the English are flummoxed by Brexit, they sure know how to brew ale.

Cliche: “The way to capture a man is through his stomach.” Nonsense. One falls in love for many odd and mysterious reasons. None of them have anything to do with food or cooking. March will soon be here. On a March evening some 56 years ago, HG held BSK’s hand on the Staten Island Ferry in New York harbor. Breeze in BSK’s hair. BSK’s profile looking at the lights of Manhattan. The feel of BSK’s hand. HG was in love and remained so all of these many, many decades (even more intense as HG heads hopefully into HG’s 90’s). Must admit there might be a bit of foodyness in all of this. HG/BSK had a sumptuous meal at BoBo’s in Chinatown (closed for decades but the memory of the lobster rolls lingers) before boarding the Ferry. BSK remains a cornucopia of beauty, creativity and family love. HG adores present day BSK for many reasons. Some are glorious. Some are mundane. For example. BSK can look at the refrigerator, the freezer and pantry. Swiftly, BSK improvises a glorious meal. Tonight it was Tagliatelle a la Norma. Pasta in an eggplant, tomato, garlic, herbs, etc. sauce. Brilliant son-in-law Massimo R. introduced this dish to HG/BSK as the family toured Sicily under his guidance. The dish was served on a hilltop terrace overlooking a Greek Temple ruin. Unforgettable. But, BSK’s version tonight was quite spectacular.

Pasta e fagioli, “pasta fazoole”. Call it what you will. it’s an Italian dish guaranteed to beat winter cold and leave you with a full stomach and happy thoughts. It’s composed of olive oil, garlic (lots); onions (abundant); San Marzano canned tomatoes; chicken broth; penne pasta; canellini beans; salt and red pepper flakes; rosemary and thyme. Dusted the steaming bowls with lots of grated Parmesan and more red pepper (for heat loving HG). So good that HG/BSK had it for dinner two nights in a row. Preceded it with appetizers of roasted red peppers, anchovies, capers and olive oil. Soaked up all the juices with slices of toasted sourdough bread. Much red wine: A surprisingly good Colorado blend (gift of pals Matt and Allie) and a lusty Argentine Malbec. HG drank Whistlepig 10-year-old Rye Whiskey after dinner. (Another wonderful gift from M & A). Yes, pasta and beans. Delicious duo.

Snow falling on HG/BSK’s New Mexico home (coldest, iciest, snowiest winter in memory). HG kept warm and snug on a snowy Sunday. Blaze in the fireplace. Toby, The Wonder Dog, nearby. Playoffs on TV. Fortified with congee, HG watched mature quarterbacks Brady and Brees do their thing (HG thinks the Eagles should have won). Dinner was roasted red peppers with mozzarella and olive oil. This was followed by BSK’s lusty variation of red lentil soup with lemon (NY Times recipe). Gifted Daughter Lesley R. served it to applause at her Rhode Island home. BSK does a variation, adding lots of grated lemon peel, middle eastern spices, fiery harissa to the mix. Taste sensation. In the offing is Pasta e Fagioli, that super robust Italian soup/stew of onions, garlic, herbs, broth, beans, pasta, grated cheese. The late, much lamented New York Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia called it “pasta fazoole.” It was his favorite dish.

Yes, HG can drink lush, stimulating alcoholic beverages again. Tonight started with a flute of chilled Provencal rosé. BSK was busy in the kitchen creating a wondrous platter of pasta. The sauce was coins of baby zucchini, gently fried thick cut bacon, lots of olive oil, garlic, onions, spices and herbs. The pasta was Abruzezze spaghetti. HG/BSK drank abundant Argentine red wine, a blend of Malbec and Grenache. Rich and fruity. HG mused about the cliche: “A meal without wine is a day without sunshine.” Yes, New Mexico weather remains chill. And snow showers are on their way. But, winy sunshine illuminated HG/BSK’s dinner table. Sipped an after dinner snifter of Whistlepig Rye Whiskey (a generous gift from nephew Matt M. and lovely companion, Allie). Powerful 100 proof. Not for the the faint of heart or palate.

Yes, that’s a sad word. Describes HG at present. No alcohol until anti-biotic regimen is over. Just a few more days. Food solace has been found during this dreary, involuntary bout with teetotalism: Avocado butter on toast with tomato salsa. BSK spotted the recipe in “Ottolenghi Simple”, the latest cookbook from Yotam Ottolenghi (gift from Lesley and Massimo R.). Voluptuous dish. Would have been better with a glass of red or white wine. HG had to make do with some sparkling water. This was the treat as HG and pals watched Clemson demolish Alabama in the college national championship game. Yes, Clemson’s 19-year-old QB, Trevor Lawrence, was sensational. But, he was aided by some miracle catches and ‘Bama stumbles. The heroes were the Clemson defensive linemen. They put up a brick wall whenever “Bama got near their goal line. Schadenfreude (joy at the misfortune of others) took over as arrogant Saban took a licking.

Many people mistake New Mexico weather for that of Arizona. Lots of sunshine in both states. Great weather in spring and fall. Summer in Arizona is unrelenting, temperatures spiking in the 100s. Hot in Santa Fe. Big difference is winter. Pleasantly warm in Arizona; however, New Mexico gets snow and ice spells. And, that’s what’s happening in HG/BSK/s Santa Fe County neighborhood. Making things a bit worse is the fact that BSK has a bad, lingering cold and HG’s COPD has been aggravated by a cold (anti-biotics are curing it). Not a great way to start the year. Toby, The Wonder Dog, has raced outside only to return quickly covered in ice balls. Hot soups and cereals have been chasing the chills. Congee. Pho. Korean ramen. Whole grain Red Mill oatmeal. Polenta. Middle Eastern red lentil and lemon soup. Garbanzo soup (gifted by delightful pal, Karen K.). HG has been transfixed by wild card NFL playoffs. (Chicago made the ultimate comeback only to lose by an inches astray field goal). Better weather is on the way and more NFL combat. Hurry up, sunshine!!

Venerable HG has now entered HG’s 90th year on Earth (a planet soon to be destroyed by fossil fuels and the profits they create for the few). There are upsides to extreme old age. Perspective. Wisdom (?). Renewed love of animals and living things (stimulated by companionship with Toby, The Wonder Dog.) Intense love for BSK (best woman in the world) and HG’s wonderful family of talented, beautiful, spirited individuals. This is a family defined by sheer goodness and kindness with an unremitting hatred of racism, despotism, greed, violence, stupidity. (And, since these children and grandchildren have been influenced by HG/BSK, they will not tolerate bad cooking). Downsides to old age. Won’t bore you with an endless list. Finale: A visit from the Moloch Hamoves (The Angel of Death). However, capacity for rage has not been blunted. HG is furious about the betrayal of Jesus Christ by all Americans who consider themselves Christians living in a nation (allegedly?) guided by Christian religious values. And, founded on a mix of Christian and Enlightenment beliefs.HG is an atheist and humanist. Nevertheless, HG admires Jesus. HG considers JC one of the many Jewish prophets wandering the wilderness of his day and thundering a variety of messages. HG thinks of JC as a very strange mix of Jews: Alan Ginsberg, Noam Chomsky, Lenny Bruce and Bernie Sanders (Okay, now you can make your own pastiche.). The big difference is that JC attracted a following that was transformed by his message of universal love, care for the very least humans, contempt for the rich, hatred of religious authorities who would profit from believers. And, now we’ve got America and Mexico. Trumperica has waged a war on people who want a better life for themselves and their children. Tear gas. Children ripped from their parents. Discrimination against people with dark skins. Troops and helicopters galore. And, no apologies for border “deterrence” policies that has left more than 6,000 migrants dead along the Mexican/American borders between 2000 and 2016. Many more thousands have been reported missing. Many have never been reported at all. And, now America has the craziness of the needless five billion dollar “Wall”. The Trumperer has closed down the government. Feeling the blow the most are “the least among us” –families on food stamps. Every value of Jesus Christ is being betrayed. Where is the outcry from American Christians? There is none. Sad indeed, after the season following Christmas. Pope Francis seems to be a lone Christian voice. HG quotes from an article in New York Review of Books by Francisco Cantu: At a small Italian island, Lampedusa, some 70 miles from Tunisia the Pontiff delivered a homily (Some 20,000 migrants have died in the sea trying to reach the island). “These brothers and sisters of ours were trying to escape difficult situations to find some serenity and peace; they were looking for a better place for themselves and their families, but instead they found death. Has anyone of us grieved for the deaths of these brothers and sisters? Has any one of us wept?”