HUNGRY GERALD

As HG and BSK sip their pre-dinner drinks, the fortunate duo look out at an array of trees sporting golden autumn regalia. Yes, New Mexico is alive with color during the sunny days and crisp nights. Sunday seemed like a perfect day for a spin to Abiquiu, the little town where Georgia O’Keefe worked and painted. Ghost Ranch, a few miles from her home, inspired some of her most remarkable works. So, it was off to Ghost Ranch where BSK took a score of photos. The mesas are extraordinary. Time has carved them into fairyland shapes. The colors.The forms. As HG and BSK strolled they found themselves alive in O’Keefe paintings. All of this, a leisurely 35-minute drive from their home.

Saturday is Santa Fe Farmers’ Market shopping for HG and BSK. Pure joy. Yes, here are lots of peppers. The air is perfurmed by the beguling aroma of roasted green chiles.

But, there are lots of other things in the stalls. Little potatoes. Tomatoes. Baby eggplants. Turnips and radishes. Fresh garlic.

And, at Mr. G’s stand, the best baby lettuce, frisee and Asian greens one can imagine. In the indoor section of the market there are breads, cheeses, pickles, quiches, etc. Much music. HG’s favorite performer is a dark haired lady who favors colorful hats. She sings in Spanish and French. Her French versions of “La Vie En Rose” and “Autumn Leaves” are riveting. Better than Piaf. As HG listens, the hungry old guy is plunged right into the heart of Paris.

Here are two more Santa Fe dining musts. Gabriel’s is ten minutes north of Santa Fe. Beautiful outdoor terrace and lively indoors. Heed HG. There is only one meal to order and that is great. All else is mediocre. Start with guacamole and chips. The guacamole is mixed tableside and it is sublime. Best ever. Then have the pork carnitas platter. One platter can easily serve two and is a nice example of down home New Mexican cooking. Very good flan for dessert. Wash it all down with margaritas.

A polar opposite is New York Deli at the north end of Santa Fe. Here is where you will find nostalgic New Yorkers reading the New York Times while indulging in traditional treats. Owner Jeffrey Schwartzberg is an ex-Brooklynite (reared in Brooklyn before it became a hipster paradise). He serves all the usual suspects: corned beef, pastrami, matzo ball soup, chopped liver, nova smoked salmon with onions and scrambled eggs, bagels, cream cheese, Reubens, etc. Jeffrey has good standards. He cut out bialys when he couldn’t find any that met his standards. Okay, New York Deli isn’t Katz’s or Barney Greengrass, but if your New York heart longs for a traditional New York heartburn, try this haimish place. You’ll find some old Jews telling jokes: Abe Meets Moish. “Moish, the fire. Terrible.” Says Moish: “Shhh. It’s tomorrow.'”

No, HG doesn’t pick a peck of peppers but he buys a lot of them at the Santa Fe Farmers’ Market. The pepper in question? Shishito peppers (sometimes called Japanese peppers). These are slim little peppers about two to three inches long. Great with any number of dishes — fish, meat or fowl and equally great on their own. HG likes to put out a big bowl of them — sauteed in a hot pan with lots of garlic — alongside slices of good, toasted bread rubbed with oil, garlic and tomato. HG gathers some friends and pours red wine (Rioja, Tempranillo or Malbec). Lively conversation ensues and much scorn is heaped on Mitt and other enemies of women. HG learned about these peppers in Madrid where a Shishito lookalike is dubbed Piquillos al Padron. These are omnipresent in Madrid bars and bistros, HG and BSK devoured hundreds accompanied by Pulpo al Galego — very tender chunks of super tender octopus cooked in the Galician style (tomatoes, garlic and Spanish hot paprika (pimenton). Bread sopped up the sauces and sangria washed them down. Olé! There’s a minor problem with these peppers. Most of them are mild but every now and then you encounter a hot guy. Then you might need artificial respiration. My pepper guy at the Farmers’ Market also carries piquillos al padron. He steered me away from them. “Molto, molto picante,” he warned. When a Spanish speaking New Mexican farmer says a pepper is hot, you better believe him. They know hot.

No, a fat pig was not available at the Santa Fe Farmers’ Market. However, an adorable goat was tethered at one produce stand and was the recipient of many pats from little kids who demanded: “Mom, Mom, can I have a pet goat?” Lots of music at the Market including a first: A very good string quartet doing Bach and Mozart tuneful justice. Many handsome, tanned people having a good time. So, what did HG buy ? Shishito peppers. (HG will do a separate post on this tasty vegetable). Haricots verde (they will accompany grilled lamb chops tonight). Tiny eggplants (these little ones have more flavor than the water logged big ones). Baby turnips (sliced raw and sprinkled with olive oil and sea salt are better than radishes). Frisee (looking forward to a traditional Paris bistro salad containing bacon and a poached egg). Garden lettuce. Fingerling potatoes (really teeny tiny and at their best when given a quick fry with olive oil and herbs). Escarole (there will be an Italian escarole and bean soup on BSK’s menu). Two artisan goat cheese spreads — one with garlic and one with dill. Needles to say, everything at the market was organic, local and super fresh. HG and BSK’s culinary future is looking good.

It says it on the New Mexico license plate: “Land of Enchantment.” This isn’t silly boosterism. New Mexico is enchanting. There are very few places in the United States that combine diversity, scenic grandeur and centuries of history. Santa Fe contains an almost unbelievable number of first rate museums and art galleries. Music, theater and an internationally famous opera house. And more. Much more.

BSK and HG are happily home at their Santa Fe County estate. No it’s not really an estate, just a five acre oasis, green and lush amidst sun bleached mesas and 200-year-old adobe dwellings. Trees and shrubs are gradually changing color. Looking forward to gold, rust and red in coming weeks.

Oh, it’s good to be home. HG celebrated homecoming with a copious bowl of green chile menudo at El Parasol in Pojaque. BSK visited a nearby farmers market and scored shishito peppers; and, as it is the season for green chilies, the scent of roasted green chiles filled the air and BSK made sure to pack her basket with those as well. Green chili sauce and green chili stews will warm the winter months. Scrambled eggs, green chili sauce, broiled tomatoes and lots of warm corn tortillas. Those are the ingredients of HG’s favorite cold weather breakfast.

Chicken thighs for dinner. So much better than flavorless chicken breasts (and cheaper). Here’s how HG and BSK do it. Make a marinade of olive oil,lemon juice garlic, ginger, cumin, turmeric, cayenne, coriander. Add a tablespoon or two of Greek yogurt. Mix well. Give it a light dusting of Goya adobo. Marinade in the refrigerator for two or three hours. BSK is going to barbecue and serve with canned white beans (enriched with a garlic and parsley sofrito) plus BSK’s unique mix of zucchini, corn niblets (frozen corn does just fine), New Mexico chile powder and a bunch of fresh herbs from the BSK garden. HG and BSK will eat outdoors on their terrace, sip chilled red wine and watch dusk make beautiful patterns on the surface of Las Barrancas, the colorful bluffs located on Native American lands. Sounds good? It is.

There’s fresh garlic, just pulled from the earth, at the Santa Fe Farmers Market. This is the way garlic should taste. Subtle, savory, vaguely sweet and with a higher water content which drowns out all burn or bitterness. For most of the year HG and BSK (like most of the world) make do with dry (mostly over the hill) garlic from the grocers. So now is the time for spaghetti with very good olive oil, sauteed fresh garlic, some hot pepper and chopped Italian parsley, And, time to sup on Spanish garlic soup accompanied by grilled bread rubbed with fresh garlic and ripe tomato. The Farmers Market also has delicious small turnips and lovely radishes. BSK likes to fill her metal barbecue basket with spears of zucchini. thick slices of sweet onion, red peppers, turnips, radishes — and a few head of fresh garlic. When roasted over the barbecue, this melange is the perfect accompaniment to grilled spatchcocked chicken previously marinated in lemon juice and herbs. Oh yes, I’ll have another glass of that chilled Coppola Rosso.

The answer to this question is: Yes and No. If you are talking about food and the price/quality ratio, New York tops Paris. Also, Paris is, for the the most part, a one trick pony. True, many of Paris’ most edgy restaurants and 3 Star Shrines have increased the use of Asian spices and cooking techniques to touch on a type of fusion cuisine; but overall, what you get in the majority of Paris Restaurants is French food. With the exception of Moroccan, other ethnic cuisines are dumbed down to suit conservative Parisian tastes. Compare that to New York which has three distinct Chinatowns each with an enormous amount of eating spots. There are whole neighborhoods in Queens (and in other boroughs) devoted to ethnic dining: Korean, Vietnamese, Indian, Greek, Italian, Mexican, Argentine and Colombian, Russian, Jamaican — and much more. And those are just the outer boroughs. Within Manhattan itself, you are able to go on a veritable world cuisine tour in just a 4 block radius. And, yes, great Jewish pastrami still lives in, alas, fewer and fewer places. Makes Paris seem very provincial. Small town. In addition, New York has steak houses like Peter Luger’s and Spark’s that are true carnivore heavens.

But, Paris still has that indefinable something, Call it charm. Call it elan. Call it sparkle. Whatever. HG is thinking about late night meals at the art deco brasserie Le Vaudeville which seemingly hums with joy and the promise of good times. Brass. Aged, cigarette-smoke stained marble. Perfect lighting. Or, dinner at the brasserie Le Stella on posh Rue Victor Hugo. Low voices. Women who know how to tie scarves. Men in well cut tweeds or blazers. Soaring towers of fruits de mer. Or, the died-and-gone-to-heaven grilled sole drenched in the best butter at Le Dome. Or, the intimacy, warmth and sheer sexiness of many small bistros serving unassuming food. There was a left bank place called Balzar where the clientele and atmosphere were so diverting that the so-so food was forgiven. (Taken over by a chain some years ago, HG does not know if the place still pleases). Other Paris pluses: Steak tartare (always bad in New York); Belon oysters; blood sausage (boudin noir); tete de veau and offal. (An exception: Paris tripe doesn’t compare to New Mexico menudo as served by places like El Parasol near Santa Fe).

Probably, the most beguiling quality about Paris restaurants is their sheer professionalism. No surprise. The restaurant, as we know it, was invented in Paris. But, if your interest is in variety and getting a dining bang for your buck, New York is incomparable. Yes, “What street compares to Mott Street in July, sweet pushcarts gently gliding by?”. But, an after dinner walk in Paris with the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the distance is nothing to sneer at.

Morels are the kings of the mushroom world. They have a unique, sponge-like interior and a honeycomb shape. They taste musty, woody, earthy. A sensual mouth feel. They have many names. Among them: Hickory chickens, merkels, miracles.

In the Department of silver linings: They can often be found in areas that have had a recent forest fire. Grizzly bears like to eat morels and so does HG. They were a luncheon special recently at Santa Fe’s Compound Restaurant. Simply sauteed in butter, tiny bit of cream and some fresh herbs. HG ate them and drank some chilled Gruet Blanc et Noir. Nirvana.