HUNGRY GERALD

HG uses a question mark in describing last night’s meal as “The Perfect Meal.” That’s because perfection is something we can strive for but can’t really achieve. But, last night’s dinner came mighty close. The elements were all there. Dinner companion: Beloved BSK. Atmosphere: Fire crackling in the fireplace on the first chill night of New Mexico autumn. Light: Candles and last rays of flickering sun. Sound: Bill Evans. And, the food. HG/BSK nibbled Shishito peppers and drank chilled Pinot Grigio. BSK dusted the bottom of a favorite cast iron pan with kosher salt and pan broiled a thick nicely marbled rib steak. BSK’s method is to keep turning the steak every 40 seconds over medium high heat. The result is a steak which has a crusty (but not charcoaled exterior) and a lush, red and juicy, rare interior. BSK sautéed Chantarelle mushrooms in butter to a silky consistency. A big salad of assorted greens with a dressing that combined oil, vinegar, a bit of Dijon mustard and a plentiful amount of ripe Gorgonzola. Drank an abundance of Chilean and Australian red wines. Robust and full of fruit. Finished the last glasses with New Mexican Biscochitos (traditional anise and cinnamon cookies). Perfect ? Don’t know. But, close.

Okra. This rather strange vegetable (It traveled to America with the earliest slave ships), provokes strong emotions. Some love it. Some hate it. Count HG among the lovers of this rather slimy treat. In HG’s college days (at uptown CCNY), HG often supped at plain spoken Harlem eateries that served ribs, pork chops and fried catfish. They were not focused on “health” food. Three vegetables were offered: Onions (fried); Collard Greens (cooked with ham hocks); Okra (breaded and fried in sizzling lard). HG often ate pork chops smothered in caramelized onions and accompanied by delicious fried okra. The okra were doused with vinegar steeped with fiery Scotch Bonnet peppers. (Young HG’s appetite was honed by football practice at Lewisohn Stadium so HG filled out the meal with a big bowl of macaroni and cheese). HG’s love affair with okra continues. Texas pickled okra is great condiment. Okra is essential in a good gumbo. (SJ’s chicken gumbo, reigning king of all gumbos, contains mucho okra). HG is looking forwards to a favorite meal tonight. Fried pork chops dusted with Goya Adobo. Goya black beans topped with chopped sweet onions and a dab of sour cream. Sauteed peppers. And,of course, pan fried okra and onions (no breading) enhanced with plenty of Slap Yo Momma Louisiana Cajun spice. Anchor Steam Beer mixed with Guinness Stout will be the beverage.

New Mexico homecoming dinner with friends and neighbors: Karen K., Polly B. (and her visiting daughter from China, Jen); David F. New Mexico cuisine. BSK produced two sizable pork butts from the Pojoauque Super Market. These were scored with a paring knife and thin slivers of garlic were inserted in the slits; an SJ spice-rub followed (chile powder, cumin, smoked paprika, garlic powder, salt, pepper, brown sugar, mustard powder..and more) and finally the butts were roasted at a low temperature for more than 3 hours. Yes, autumn green chiles are roasting all over The Land of Enchantment and BSK picked up a few pounds at the Santa Fe Farmers Market. They were the basis (with onions, garlic, etc.) for BSK’s fiery green chile sauce. There are few things better than long roasted piggy doused with this killer sauce. Also on the kitchen buffet was a pot of Goya black beans (with accompanying chopped onions and sour cream); garlicky, sautéed Shishito peppers (now in season); sliced tomatoes and avocado; celeriac slaw (a non-mayonnaise BSK invention); big stack of warm tortillas. Vodka (Karen K.’s own pink infusion); red and white wine; ale and Guiness stout. Cookies and salted caramel ice cream for dessert. Brandy. A fun feast of local flavors.

HG has never been a fan of outdoor dining. Too hot. Too cold. Too windy. Friendly to insects. And, the sun has a habit of getting directly in HG’s eyes. Food magazines are always filled with photos of folks having a jolly time at long tables outdoors while the barbecue performs smoky, culinary wonders. Parisians, usually sensible, if demanding, in terms of food, go nuts with joy at the possibility of eating on a restaurant terrace. They brave cold, dampness, auto fumes and beggars for this dubious delight. The only outdoor dining HG has ever enjoyed has been a feast of freshly shucked Malpeque or Colville Bay oysters served on the ocean-facing deck of HG/BSK’s Prince Edward Island home. However, here in New Mexico where HG/BSK reside for most of the year, BSK has managed to create an outdoor dining experience that even HG, a stubborn curmudgeon, must admit is a delight. BSK has strung dozens of tiny lights in the shade tree that grows on the HG/BSK brick floored terrace. The light is soft and conducive to wine drinking. The view is of Las Barrancas (reddish colored cliffs and mesas). So, it’s cocktails on the portale (long, low porch) and dinner on the terrace. A few nights ago the menu was a filet of wild salmon cooked medium rare on the barbecue; tiny Ratte potatoes; a salad of fresh greens dotted with gently sautéed buttery oyster mushrooms. HG concocted a sauce that went beautifully with the salmon and potatoes: Mayonnaise (Hellman’s, of course); olive oil; finely chopped fresh garlic; Maille Dijon Mustard; lemon juice and lemon zest; salt; pepper; tarragon from BSK’s herb garden. Manchego cheese and quince jam as a finale. Perfect meal. Perfect setting. Big time mind change for HG.

HG felt good last night after swimming 40 laps in HG’s sun dappled New Mexico indoor pool. Wanted to feel even better so drank two hearty glasses of vodka and orange bitters before dinner. HG’s turn to cook dinner. HG chose to sauté four pounds of Trader Joe’s free range chicken(there would be leftovers) in a mix of butter and Sicilian olive oil (Was HG’s choice of “chikin” spurred by the news that Chick-Fil-A was opening New York outlets ?). Anyway, HG browned the chicken parts to a savory mahogany shade. Removed them from the pan and cooked a lot of chopped garlic, shallots and fresh rosemary (from BSK’s herb garden) in the lush and buttery pan juices. The chicken went back in the pan with a glass of Pinot Grigio and left to simmer into tenderness. When finished, HG added Maille Dijon Mustard and lemon juice to the pan, gave it a swirl and poured it over the heated platter of chicken. A wow of a dish. HG also fried a bunch of tiny Ratte potatoes as an accompaniment. (BSK would add a green salad to the meal). Proud of the culinary accomplishment, HG toasted himself with a few glasses (size XL) of very good Chilean red wine (selected by BSK, HG’s favorite sommelier). Drank more wine with dinner. Following the splendid meal, HG relaxed with a snifter (XL) of grappa. And, then a second grappa (XL). HG arose to adjust the Bose. Took a noisy tumble. Fortunately, nothing was broken. Very minor bruises. BSK helped HG to HG’s feet. When assured that the mature gent was healthy, BSK (in a stern tone) noted that excessive alcohol contributed to the fall and that falling was one of the leading causes of demise in the senior citizen community. A point well taken. No pre-dinner vodka (except in dire circumstances). Two glasses of wine with dinner. A modest sip of brandy or grappa after dinner. HG vows: Austerity and Moderation. Says dubious BSK: “We shall see.”

Garlic challenges HG’s atheism. Where did this indispensable member of the allium family come from? Is its origin celestial? Never mind. Garlic has been around for a long time. The Chinese were using garlic to enhance their cuisine as early as 2000 BC. Count Dracula doesn’t stand a chance of inducting HG into a cordon of vampires (It’s common knowledge that garlic and crucifixes chase away these guys who want to bite your neck). HG eats garlic incessantly, adding it to a variety of foods. Linguine with oil, garlic, anchovies and parsley is a favorite late night meal (It’s what Romans eat after a night of carousing). HG’s preferred snack is toasted baguette rubbed with crushed garlic, doused with Sicilian olive oil, dusted with cracked pepper and sea salt. Accompanied by a ripe, in season tomato and plenty of red wine. HG heaven. This week, HG is in charge of the evening meal since BSK is busily occupied creating a series of hand formed pots. With HG in charge, BSK will wind up smelling like an elegant garlic clove. Last night, HG used a New York Times recipe for garlic soup. Loads of garlic simmered in water with thyme and bay leaf. Enriched with three beaten eggs and frozen sweet peas. HG cooked Orechiette (pasta shaped like little ears) in a separate pot. Added it to the garlic soup. A very generous topping of grated Parmesan and ground black pepper. The bowls were lined with toasted, garlic-rubbed slices of baguette. More garlic croutons on the side. A great dish. And, healthy. Among garlic’s many health benefits is lowering blood pressure and shoring up the immune system.

Yes, HG is very much in favor of the new stress on local farm-to-table eating. Alice Waters started the trend at her immensely influential California restaurant, Chez Panisse. Marc Meyer, HG/BSK’s favorite chef, is a leading advocate of this philosophy at the four New York restaurants he owns with wife/partner Victoria Freeman (HG’s talented daughter) : Cookshop, Rosie’s, Vic’s and Hundred Acres. However, when dining at home, HG/BSK bend the locavore rules A LOT and certainly do utilize imports. Last night’s meal mixed local and imported foods and was outstanding. Started with a platter of tomatoes and basil (both from BSK’s New Mexico garden) plus mozzarella (An import, sadly, Not to be compared to the fresh made daily cheese HG would purchase at Belgiovine’s Grocery in Montclair, N.J.). Main dish was lamb chops (Featured at Trader Joe’s, they are a New Zealand import. Superb. Comparable to the chops HG/BSK would savor at the long closed Coach House Restaurant in New York’s Greenwich Village). Accompaniments were fingerling potatoes (local) and a big surprise, haricot verts imported from Guatemala. BSK steamed them and then gave them a quick sauté in Sicilian olive oil with a melange of herbs from BSK’s garden. These were the best haricot certs HG ever tasted, far superior to Paris’s best. (go figure). HG mixed a bowl of Fage Greek Yogurt (Despite the name, it’s made in the United States) with garlic, olive oil, sumac cumin, zaatar, smoked black pepper. All of these imported spices gave the yogurt a Middle Eastern flavor that enhanced the tastes of lamb and potatoes. Before the meal, HG drank Polish vodka. With the meal there was Spanish Garnacha red wine. International and local dining at its best.

The Saturday Santa Fe Farmers Market is the happiest,and most diverse market HG has ever encountered (and HG has made it a point to visit public markets in such food oriented cities as Vancouver, B.C.; Barcelona, Paris, Rome, Florence, Venice among others). No, you won’t find the array of seafood you’ll find in Barcelona and Venice; the roasted chickens and cheeses of Paris and the parade of pasta that is a glory of Italy. But, what you will find in Santa Fe is a feast for people watchers. There are past and present movie stars (Shirley McClain; Robert Redford; Gene Hackman; Sam Shepherd; Ali McGraw and on and on). There are artists working in every conceivable media (many world famous). Eccentrics in fabulous costumes. Ex-hippies. Present day hippies. Native Americans. Latinos. Tourists. Lots of active and attractive older folk. (Santa Fe isn’t a place where oldsters sit around bewailing their failing organs. They’re out and about, populating the art galleries and museums, cinematequës, concerts, restaurants and cultural events). And, of course there are the young people, many accompanied by babies. There’s very good live music at the market (HG presumes they’re vetted by management since there are very few clunkers). On their visit this Saturday, HG/BSK split up. HG bought tiny Ratte potatoes, eggplants and Holy Chipotle (this is a locally made goat cheese spread of cheese and chipotle peppers which makes a happy marriage of heat and flavor). James Romero, a handsome, smiling guy, was perfuming the air with the roasting green chile peppers from his farm. (“This is what you do if you never went to college,” he shouted). BSK bought a big variety of peppers from him (there will be much lush green chile sauce in HG/BSK’s culinary future). BSK cruised the various stands and bought oyster mushrooms, leeks, fresh garlic and radishes. Shishito peppers are now in season.and BSK selected the best. BSK will fry them in olive oil and garlic with a dusting of sea salt (HG/BSK first tasted this treat in Madrid and became addicted). BSK was lucky. BSK got to Gary and Natasha Gundersen’s stand before these premier organic farmers (HG/BSK neighbors) sold out of their delicious wares. BSK snared a big bag of salad greens, cauliflower and other good things from the carefully tended Gundersen earth. A day of sheer fun under the omnipresent bright sun and blue skies of New Mexico.

Before returning to New Mexico, HG/BSK celebrated Brilliant Granddaughter Arianna R.’s birthday with a gala feast at Los Andes in Providence. This is one of HG’s all time most favorite restaurants (HG acclaimed it in a an earlier post). Once again, Los Andes provided a joyous feast of Peruvian specialties. The evening was made even more special by the presence of Jake, Arianna’s friend. A good looking, charming young man, Jake is studying to be a chef at Johnson & Wales, the renowned culinary school. Hope to taste his cooking on another occasion. Up early in the morning to travel to Boston and fly to Albuquerque. Toby, The Wonder Dog, had to be stuffed in a crate to make the trip in cargo. Looked very forlorn. Breakfasted at Legal Seafood. Excellent crab cake sandwich for HG and splendid chicken sandwich for BSK. Legal always delivers good airport meals (too early in the morning for their outstanding oysters and clams). As you can imagine, Toby leaped out of his crate at the Albuquerque Sunport to greet HG/BSK with happy barks. Picked up the makings for a comfort dinner at Whole Foods. Green Chile Cheeseburgers a la BSK: Pan broiled burgers topped with aged English cheddar and smothered in 505 Green Chile Sauce. Served on toasted onion brioche buns. The magical burgers were accompanied by bowls of cannelini beans topped with chopped sweet onions and 505 Green Chile salsa. A bottle of pinot noir. The ardors of travel were soon forgotten.

When you are on Prince Edward Island you are rarely far from excellent fried fish, French fried potatoes or crisp, deep fried onion rings. Rick’s Fish & Chips in St, Peters is (HG kids) the three star Michelin choice for these goodies. But, fear not, one can find worthy competitors all over the Island. There’s Wicked Fries, a food truck that appeared this year in Morrell, which has “awesome” fries (according to grandson Handsome Haru) and a fairly remarkable burger sourced from local PEI beef (according to SJ). There’s another truck in Montague Harbor where HG/BSK have had exemplary fried fish sandwiches with French fries and house made tartar sauce. There’s another French fry food truck in Charlottetown that lurks near a complex of big box retailers. Always busy so they must be doing something right. HG/BSK live nine months of the year in New Mexico where tacos and burritos are rarely out of reach. You can grab them from food trucks, garner them from drive ins or eat them in restaurants. They are good, better or sublime. If they are inferior the purveyor is rapidly out of business. In Paris, there seems to be a crepe stand outside of every Metro station. These are not favored by HG who prefers the superb galettes or crepes at creperies like Breizh Cafe in the Marais neighborhood. In Vancouver, B.C., where HG/BSK lived (part time) for ten years, there were score of sushi joints. Every bench in the numerous parks or on busy avenues seemed to be occupied by beautiful young women eating sushi and chatting gaily with their friends. Philadelphia, which has always seemed to HG to be a highly eccentric city, is dominated by the soft pretzel. This doughy, heavily salted baked good (or bad) is heavily dosed in mustard and enjoyed by the multitudes. Go figure.