HUNGRY GERALD

When HG utters the word “tripe’, A certain high percentage of HG’s listeners respond to HG with a grimace of disgust and a collective: “Ech-h-h!!”. Unfair. But, understandable. Years ago, HG was in the glorious Italian city of Firenze. HG went to the wicker market where at lunch every day a truck pulled up and a grizzled old guy dispensed tripe sandwiches. These were famous throughout the city and there was a long line waiting for the delicacy. HG took one bite of his sandwich. Spat. Threw the sandwich to the ground. The Florentine tripe lovers turned to HG with anger. HG heard the word “Americano” whispered and everyone quickly calmed down. Of course, the crowd reasoned, HG was an American. This excused HG’s behavior since all Americans are crazy and know nothing about food.

HG overcame his anti-tripe prejudice three years ago when HG and BSK moved to New Mexico. HG became an obsessive lover of New Mexican tripe — menudo — as it is prepared at El Parasol in Pojauque. HG limits himself to one bowl a week since menudo is mega-rich in cholesterol. HG remembers a mournful essay by M.F.K. Fisher, the late, great food writer. Living in a small California town, Fisher could find no one who would share a tripe meal with her and cooking tripe for a solitary meal seemed too arduous and too sad.

HG has written before about HG’s favorite “go to” eatery in New Mexico– the delightful El Parasol. There are a number of El Parasols throughout New Mexico but HG’s hangout is the location on Highway 285/84 in Pojoaque (some 15 minutes north of Santa Fe). This one is under the gracious and efficient stewardship of Jose Atencio. Eat in or take out. You place your order at the cash register and it’s delivered to your table in a flash — with a smile. Place is clean, hospitable and friendly. A good time is guaranteed. Usually, HG has menudo (a tripe stew) with posole and green chile. Blows the socks off tripe in the style of Caen or any other tripe HG has had in Paris. Recently, however, HG ignored the menduo and ordered a roast pork and guacamole burrito smothered in green chile. This dish would win the World Wide Ultimate Burrito Olympics if
such a worthwhile event could be organized. Big, juicy hunks of roast pork. Green chile sauce that had a kick but didn’t numb HG’s mouth. Cold shredded iceberg lettuce and chopped tomato on the side for a nice texture contrast. A giant plate of heaven for only seven bucks.

When BSK was a young actress in New York studying theater with the late greats Lloyd Richards, Lee Strasberg (remember him as Hyman Roth in “Godfather Two”?) and Mike Gazzo (Also in “Godfather Two” as Frank Pentangelli) BSK was particularly adept at “improv” — those acting exercises that are unscripted, spur-of-the-moment improvisations based around general themes or situations. Eventually, BSK left acting behind and had later careers as a photographer, political strategist and government relations expert. Currently, BSK is busily engaged as a potter and painter, turning out extraordinary work in a spacious studio. No matter the career changes, BSK has retained her talent for improvisation. Witness dinner last night. HG and BSK found themselves hungry (surprise, surprise!) and, somehow, the day had gone by with no menu plans and no food shopping. No worries. BSK rummaged in the refrigerator and out came zucchini and some last bits of bacon and pancetta. There was also a heel of goat cheese enriched with jalapeno peppers. Sous chef HG diced garlic. Into a hot pan of olive oil it went with lots of sliced zucchini. BSK sizzled the bacon and pancetta until crisp. Water was put up to boil for pasta (fusili). BSK dashed out to her herb garden for a big bunch of parsley. This was chopped with some kumato (juicy, always ripe brown tomatoes from Mexico). When the zucchini and garlic had softened, the drained pasta went into the pan with the goat cheese (and a bit of pasta water). This created a slightly creamy sauce (with heat from the peppers). BSK stirred in the crispy bacon and pancetta bits. Topped it with the parsley/kumato mix. Green salad and a bottle of Sicilian Nero d’Avolo red wine. Perfect meal. Another starring improv performance from BSK

Yes, salt cod is spelled in different ways in Portugal, Italy, Spain, Brazil, France and other countries where it is enjoyed and appreciated. It needs a good soaking in many changes of water before it can be cooked but that’s time well spent because it is a staple of many wonderful dishes. An HG favorite is Brandade, a puree of salt cod, potatoes, sweet cream and garlic — lots of garlic. HG eats it with slices of garlic rubbed, toasted sourdough bread. Cold Muscadet or Macon-Village Chardonnay is a pleasant accompaniment. HG likes the Brandade at both Balthazar, the busy New York brasserie and Jonathan Waxman’s Barbuto Restaurant in Greenwich Village.

Salt cod has an affinity for garlic. The Provence feast of poached salt cod and vegetables (cooked and raw) is served with an abundance of aioli, a garlic enriched mayonnaise. HG is looking forward this weekend to BSK’s Basque salt cod (cooked with olive oil, white wine, tomatoes, capers, parsley and, of course, garlic). BSK will serve it with her smashed potatoes gilded with Sicilian olive oil. And, to make sure that vampires are kept at bay, HG will make plenty of aioli (HG will add some cayenne for a bit of a bite).

While no garlic was served in the dish, SJ once made HG salivate with a description of an improvised feast in the Blue Mountains of Jamaica consisting of chunks of sat cod and yam roasted over an open fire with a hefty dose of margarine. And in Rome’s Campo Di Fiori there is a busy, little joint that apparently serves salt cod fritters to die for. HG bets there is garlic in those fritters.

In the Italian-Irish-Jewish Bronx nabe where HG was reared, lengths of dried salt cod were displayed like cord wood in every Italian food store. Now you can find it in cute little wooden boxes at the fish counters of supermarkets. Progress: The wooden box salt cod has less bones.

At HG and BSK’s verdant compound in Santa Fe County, the fortunate duo live in close linkage to thousands of years of history. HG and BSK’s five acres are fed water from an Acequia, a communal irrigation canal that preserves and shares water in New Mexico’s desert environment. A Mayordomo (water master) makes all decisions concerning the Acequia and supervises equable water distribution throughout the community (neighbor Tony G. is HG and BSK’s Mayordomo). Acequias were born more than 10,000 years ago in the deserts of the middle east, established in Spain by the Moors during their 800-year reign and brought to New Mexico by the Spaniards. Acequia irrigation means a plentiful supply of flowers for the HG/BSK household and, best of all, a fertile herb garden filled with basil, mint, sage, tarragon,rosemary, parsley and chives. BSK puts them, with a bow to history, to very good use in the HG/BSK kitchen.

One of the wonderful things about Santa Fe is that you can see high quality, ever changing art exhibits every day. And, it’s easy. Ample parking (or once you’re in the center of town you can stroll to dozens of galleries). And, the galleries are never too crowded.You can really see the art and pause before a favorite without being jostled. HG and BSK visited the Monroe Gallery of Photography a few days ago for a knockout show: Stephen Wilkes’ Day to Night. This was a show of panoramic photos of New York City landmarks in which Wilkes captures a 15-hour time span of a single day. Astonishing. Time is condensed. Colors shift from night purple to the golden sunlight of day to the the heady contrasts of afternoon shadow. Yes, all in a single photo. These photos of the Flatiron Building, Coney Island, the High Line, Park Avenue, Bethesda Fountain, Washington Square, Central Park in winter, New York Public Library, Gramercy Park, Times square are unique examples of artistic imagination and technical mastery. In order to achieve these photographs, Wilkes perched for 15 hours on a 50-foot crane taking hundreds of shots. In the post production phase, Wilkes studied each individual image and chose elements which he digitally merged into a single photograph. These works don’t look like a composite, just a seamless compression of time and space. Wilkes describes these photos as “a love letter to the City of New York.” The big town is lucky to have a lover like Wilkes. In any case, the exciting show made HG and BSK hungry. So, the fortunate duo picked up some Prince Edward Island mussels and a pound of squid for a dinner of linguini and sea critters. Life’s good in the Land of Enchantment.

A weekend visit from the Family C. Ah, the C’s. Anthony. An Englishman of aristocratic lineage; striking, distinguished good looks. Makes the Earl in Downton Abbey look like an ill-bred commoner. Anthony works in finance and is a specialist in everything Asian. Wife Claudia, journalist, radio personality, a woman of boundless vivacity and a bubbling fountain of information and outrageous, over the top commentary and observation. Son Toby, a musical talent and a quietly attractive, observant young man with gracious manners. (Other C progeny are busy in Boston and England).

Anthony is a car nut — an obsessive collector of swift and beautiful automobiles. Anthony and Claudia arrived at the HG/BSK compound in a jewel of the C collection — an eight year old Aston-Martin convertible lined in lush, creamy Scottish leather. At one point in the weekend, Anthony took HG for a spin on the scenic high road to Taos. With Anthony at the wheel, the Aston-Martin made a sound like the roaring of a pride of lions as it effortlessly passed cars on the winding, steep road. Unforgettable.

Since the C’s will soon be leaving the USA to take up residence in Singapore, it seemed appropriate to send them off with a celebratory southwestern dinner. First, there was some martini and Prosecco drinking under the pergola facing the HG/BSK fish pond (Kindly note the C’s never visit empty handed — this time they bore champagne, excellent wine and a bottle of Bombay Sapphire gin). Then, a feast of slow roasted, spice rubbed pork butt. Bowls of BSK’s pico de gallo (chopped tomatoes, onions, cilantro, hot and sweet peppers); BSK green chile sauce (magic); BSK stir fry of zucchini,onion, garlic and sweet corn); navy beans enriched with Goya Sofrito. A platter of sliced avocado. A mound of warmed tortillas. Much cold beer and Malbec red wine. For dessert: An array of Ben and Jerry’s best. A happy time.

The presiding genius of this meal was SJ. The piggy expert recommended larding the butts with plenty of garlic slivers and giving them a dry rub with abundant amounts of adobo, English dry mustard powder, New Mexican red chili powder, Mexican oregano and Spanish smoked paprika — a true international blend of spices the day before cooking them. Then, a slow roast, in a tin-foil covered pan for 4 hours at 275 degrees, finishing by removing foil and raising heat to 325 for an hour. An SJ recipe winner. A happy, exubrant meal and a bittersweet farewell to the C’s. Silver lining. HG and BSK have promised to visit Singapore early next year to join with the C’s in celebrating Chinese New Year by feasting on Singapore’s mind bending cuisine.

Sauerkraut’s ascent to the heavens is Choucroute Garnie, the wonderful Alsatian dish of sauerkraut simmered in wine and then decked with an array of piggy goodies. It is always served accompanied by boiled potatoes, hot mustard and strong horse radish.

Here’s the way HG and BSK did it for a small dinner party last night. BSK sauteed sliced apples and onions in olive oil. Added Bubbie’s sauerkraut (drained) and some cups of of dry, white Riesling. Let it cook for a long, long time at a lazy simmer. While that was cooking, HG tossed some knockwurst into a pot of lightly boiling water — wanted the sausages to heat through but not burst. When done, HG browned bratwurst and some kielbasa. Meanwhile, BSK boiled potatoes and then smashed them (that’s right–the potatoes were smashed and not mashed). Creative BSK mixed the potatoes with some chicken stock, olive oil and chopped scallions. Sublime. Sausages topped the sauerkraut and the whole thing was washed down with plenty of Belgian ale. Great fun. Would have liked some Kassler Ripchen (smoked pork loin) with this dish but couldn’t find any in Santa Fe. But, we did have Bubbie’s sour dill pickles and they added to the merriment.

Last week there was no family and no kids in New Mexico for the Spring holiday season. Therefore: No Seder (although, with grave jealousy, I pored over photos of SJ’s Seder goodies of juicy brisket and Lokshen Kugel). No Easter Bunny. No Easter Eggs. No Easter Basket of goodies. But, don’t feel too sorry for HG. Easter Sunday began with a favorite breakfast. Broad noodles were lightly buttered and topped with poached eggs. Dusted with freshly grated parmesan, Malden sea salt flakes and ground black pepper. Big mugs of Cafe Latte. And, the obligatory Sunday New York Times.

Brilliant sunshine under blue skies. Temperature in the 70’s. Off to the Pueblo San Ildefonso, a scenic ten minute drive from the HG/BSK compound. Watched the mesmerizing Native American dancers. Some forty wonderfully costumed men (many allusions to the earth and animals). Rhythmic chanting, drum beating, gourd shaking. Perfectly timed dance steps. All set against a backdrop of old adobe, dark mesas and the soaring Jemez mountains. A miraculous New Mexico spectacle. Native Americans have been living in San Ildefonso for almost 800 years. Their culture is very much alive.

HG and BSK returned home to a late lunch of Italian escarole and bean soup (with a liberal lashing of Tuscan olive oil). Then, a long afternoon swim in the lap pool. It’s a life. Somebody’s got to live it. Might as well be HG and BSK.

Daffodils. Tulips. Forsythia. Hyacinths. Greening grass. Budding trees. Green willow fronds. Spring is upon us here in New Mexico and it’s Row-Zay time. Yes, it’s time to sit outdoors beneath brilliant blue skies and drink lots of friendly rose wine. Hey, that’s what they do in Spain and HG enjoys paying homage (if it involves drinking and eating) to New Mexico’s Hispanic heritage. Ancona almonds. Kalamata olives. Piquillo peppers. Anchovies. Thin slices of a ciabatta loaf. These are nice accompaniments. French Tavel is HG’s favorite rose but it has become too pricey for everyday drinking. HG makes out just fine with six bucks-a-bottle La Ferme Julien (French) and Albero (Spanish). California’s despicable White Zinfandel has given rose a bad rep. Ignore it. Buy HG recommended roses and have lots of fun in the sun.