HUNGRY GERALD

A sweaty and hungry young HG left the playing field in the Kingsbridge neighborhood of The Bronx and headed for Jerome Avenue (the “El” was overhead). This was the location of a local pizzeria. HG demolished three big, greasy, cheesy slices of pizza accompanied by ginger ale on ice. (HG has always hated Coke and Pepsi). Dessert was an ice cream bar from the next dood candy store. This was a lush, very affordable meal (60 cents). As a busy journalist, HG often dined (if you can call it that) at the rough and tumble Mirror Bar in The E.45th Street Mirror building where HG hq’ed. Hard boiled egg, pickled pig’s knuckle and a “boilermaker” (shot of whiskey accompanied by a cold. beer). (Cost: 35 cents). Other faves during journalism days were the platters of corned beef and cabbage that were fixtures on the steam tables of Irish “Bar and Grills” on Third Avenue (Cost: $1.25) and the pot roast sandwich and gravy at Connolly’s Bar on 23rd Street. (Cost: $1.25). Best of all cheap eats was the grilled Italian sausage with fried onions and peppers on a soft roll. It was dispensed from the back of a truck in Greenwich Village. (Cost: $1.00)

Artist & Writers, a bar/restaurant on W.40th street in Manhattan was a frequent hangout for young HG when HG was a journalist and then a public relations professional. It was in the same building as the Herald-Tribune newspaper (both H-T and A & W, sadly, have vanished along with many other culinary and journalistic landmarks that adorned a more gracious and colorful New York). HG wondered about the name of the eatery. Why was “Artist” singular and “Writers” plural? In any case, Artist & Writers was the canteen for “Trib” (that’s what everyone called the newspaper) journalists and others from the Times, Business Week, Newsweek–all with offices in the neighborhood. All referred to it as “Bleeck’s”, after the owner, John Bleeck. HG drank many a Martini and sipped much cognac there but HG also was fond of the food. It was German and hearty. HG’s favorite dish was Konigsberger Klopse. This was composed of meatballs ( pork and beef) mixed with fried onions, bread crumbs, beaten eggs, and loads of spices. Golf ball sized, they were poached in sturdy stock and finished in a cream and capers sauce. It was topped with a big shower of chopped dill. Served with boiled potatoes and pint glasses of dark German beer. Good stuff. It was recalled last night when BSK took handfuls of dill from the BSK herb garden and cooked the herb with garlic scapes, anchovies, butter, chopped onions, olive oil, lemon juice and capers. Poured over lovely salmon filets (cooked medium rare the way HG likes them) , this was lush eating. Brought back memories of Bleeck’s and “the match game” that was played at the bar. HG was a skilled player. Alas, the old guy has forgotten the rules.

For many years, HG was an avid Martini drinker—after work at the cocktail hour or upon arrival home before dinner. HG had affectionate names for this potent (slightly lethal) beverage–“white lightning” or “icy steely.” Cocktail venue was Michael’s, a bar in Manhattan’s East 50’s. Customers were advertising industry men and women from the “Mad Men” era. Hard drinking folks. An extra dry Michael’s Martini was served in a dangerously huge goblet. The very strong drink led to many mishaps and misdemeanors. (Dorothy Parker put it this way: “One Martini. Two at most. Three Martinis. I’m under the host.”) At home HG followed a ritual. Pitcher and glasses in the freezer. Vodka or gin in the fridge. Pitcher was filled with ice. Alcohol poured with a slight trace of Noilly Prat dry vermouth. Quick robust stir. Then: Ice cold heaven. (No olives, tiny pickled onions or lemon peel. When offered at a bar, HG commented: “I didn’t order a salad.”))  BSK vigorously objected to HG’s Martini habit. BSK stressed the unpleasantness and dangers of falls and glassy eyed, thick tongued inebriation (Drunk? Hate that word.) So, sometime ago HG switched to Italian Negronis. HG’s Negroni is free form. Mix is a modest amount of bourbon or rye. Dry vermouth. Sweet vermouth. Campari. Lime or lemon juice. Served on the rocks. (The very best Negroni was served at a classy restaurant in Vancouver, B.C.’s W.Broadway.) Now, HG only has a Martini when the brilliant, effervescent Claudia Cragg is having one. A gentleman doesn’t let a lady drink a Martini alone

In 1955 HG began his long career as a public relations consultant and publicist. His office was eccentric (former dance studio) at 236 W. 56th Street (midway between Broadway and 8th Avenue). Over the years the offices became less singular and there were moves to Madison Avenue and, finally,New Jersey: Freeman Public Relations has longevity. Now in its 66th year, it flourishes under the brilliant leadership of its owner, Bruce Maguire. Street level of 236 W. 56th Street was occupied by Patsy’s Italian Restaurant. Founded in 1944 by Pasquale “Patsy” Scognamillo, it had quiet decor, professional service and very good food. Knowing that young HG was facing financial challenges, the generous Scognamillo family often offered HG a bowl of Spaghetti Bolognese at a fraction of the menu price. The waiter refused a tip. HG prospered and Patsy’s became HG’s favorite Italian eatery (it was also Frank Sinatra’s fave). The Scognamillo family still owns and runs Patsy’s with Neapolitan skill and exuberance. It has become a showbiz and celebrity hangout. Among the frequent customers are Al Pacino, Robert De Niro, Madonna, George Clooney, Oprah Winfrey, Alec Baldwin, Tony Bennet, Pacido Domingo and many others. (autograph requests are discouraged). In the old days, the only celebrity present (except for Sinatra) was the notorious Frank Costello. The food remains splendid. Rightfully so, since prices have become stratospheric. A bowl of tripe costs $35 (HG will stick to big bowls of fiery green chili tripe–five bucks– at El Parasol in New Mexico). Patsy’s spaghetti and meatballs, a proletarian dish, costs $29. Time–and prices–march on.

When HG was a New York journalist (1950-1955), a favorite restaurant of HG and HG’s newspaper and wire service pals was Patsy’s. It was located in an edgy neighborhood of Spanish Harlem, 2287 First Avenue (west side of the Avenue between 117th and 118th Streets). Many junkies and drug pushers in the neighboring streets. Since junkies needed money for their next fix, muggings were frequent. The restaurant was a neighborhood fixture and its pizzas (made in an ancient coal fired oven) were remarkable. It was very affordable. HG’s meal of crudo di vongole (clams on the half shell) and linguine aglio e olio (olive oil, garlic, parsley and a sprinkle of red pepper) cost less than two dollars. Sometime in the early 80’s HG took a group of friends there after a Gerard Schwartz concert at the 92nd Street Y. Restaurant was a bit run down and the neighborhood made much of the group nervous. Gerry Schwartz enjoyed the odd place and all agreed the food was terrific. At some juncture in the 1980s, Woody Allen stopped by Patsy’s with associates and raved about the food. Voila!! Patsy’ became a hangout for cool New Yorkers. (Rao’s, the super exclusive red sauce restaurant, is close to Patsy’s at 114th Street and Pleasant Avenue). Patsy’s is still in business. Prices are modest (by Manhattan standards). The clams are now $8.50 and the linguine is $9.95. The neighborhood is much improved if not totally gentrified.

Yes, if you’ve got a can of beans, you’ve got a meal. In the early days of courtship and marriage some 57 years ago, super lovely young (22 years old) BSK would open a can of Campbell’s Baked Beans. BSK would enhance them with fried onions and ketchup. The beans were served with grilled kosher frankfurters. Besotted with love and lust, HG would pronounce the dish a gourmet treat. Last night on cold and snowy Prince Edward Island, BSK made a side dish of cannellini beans mixed with onions, garlic, finely chopped baby spinach and lots of herbs and spices. Lush. BSK says that a similar stew with garbanzo beans, carrots, spinach, etc., is in the future. When living in New York many years ago , HG consumed many bowls of Moros and Cristianos (savory back beans and rice). These days (when in New Mexico), a favorite HG/BSK meal is Trader Joe’s pork chops, flavored with Goya Adobo spice and fried. The chops are accompanied by a melange of sauteed peppers and onions. Obligatory is a bowl of Goya black beans topped with chopped raw onions and a dollop of sour cream. Pass Frank’s Hot Sauce.

Had a lush dinner last night of BSK’s creamy (lots of blue cheese and feta) cauliflower with penne. Chased away windy Prince Edward Island chills. This is just one of BSK’s delicious vegetable pasta dishes. Others are pasta al la norma (eggplant); pasta with zucchini and ricotta (sometimes crisp bacon is added); unsurpassed pasta with broccoli (on a par with the dish served at the lamentably closed Delsomma Restaurant in New York’s theater district.) BSK also makes pasta with finely chopped baby spinach, much garlic and onion, all gilded with Sicilian olive oil; pasta with green peas and parmesan; pasta with extra garlicky broccoli di rabe. BSK has noted a pasta dish with brussel sprouts leaves but hasn’t cooked it yet. HG’s all time favorite pasta dish is spaghetti aglio e olio (olive oil and garlic). A few anchovies and chopped flat leaf parsley give it extra zest. BSK cooks this to flavorful perfection. (This is a favorite dish of Romans after a night of drunken carousing).

HG’s late beloved Mom cooked brisket often. She called it, in Yiddish, “gedempteh flaish.” Translation: Stewed meat. It was good, winter or summer. In the winter it was accompanied by boiled potatoes. In the summer, buttered corn on the cob. The beverage was cold beer. The table held mustard, horseradish and dill pickles. Good robust eating. However, the ultimate brisket, the empress of brisketdom, was the brisket served to HG/BSK at the home of good friends Lynn and Michael Small (sadly, Michael is deceased). The recipe came from Lynn’s Mom (or grandmother). Long braising made the meat super tender and produced copious gravy of onions, garlic, tomatoes and meat juices. Lynn served it with a big bowl of kasha, perfect for soaking up the unctuous gravy. BSK cooked this for a traditional Sunday night dinner with Noel and Yossi M. (BSK’s sister and brother in law). No kasha but flavorful quinoa. Chased away the chills gloriously. The bible of brisket cooking is “The Brisket Book” by the brilliant and witty author Stephanie Pierson. (HG/BSK’s close friend for many decades). The book is so good it can turn vegans into carnivores.

Last month, as a hurricane approached HG/BSK’s Prince Edward Island oceanfront home, BSK made a big pot of chili. It was enough for two days of dinners and lunches, helpful if electricity ceased (gas range and oven could warm the chili). BSK used a Rich Bayless mix (not as good as the Wick Fowler “Five Alarm Chili” mix). A few nights ago, with snow flurries in the future, BSK made another abundant pot of chili, a sure cure for the chills. This time, BSK had no packaged mix but used BSK’s imaginative combination of tomatoes, onions, jalapenos, cumin, masa flour, canola oil and big spoonfuls of spicy chili powder to flavor the simmering chopped beef. The chili was a blast from the past. BSK had produced an authentic “bowl o’ red”, the lusty dish (always served with chopped onions and salty oyster crackers) that was a fixture of diners and “coffee shops” in yesteryear New York. HG topped his PEI bowl with onions plus grated cheddar and sliced avocado. Bliss. Many, many decades ago when HG was a financially limited New York journalist, HG would often patronize a small chili restaurant beneath the Third Avenue Elevated train (This was before the El’s demolition and the resultant construction that made Third Avenue fashionable. When the El thundered above, the avenue was lined with tenements and the street fronts housed Irish saloons, pawn shops, antique stores and cheap restaurants). The chili eatery served its fiery chili Texas-style (without beans), or with beans. The chili could be poured over rice or spaghetti if desired. HG would opt for Texas style chili over spaghetti. A very big bowl cost 25 cents, a filling, warming, affordable culinary treasure.

Yes, Trump is doing his best to sow chaos and division in the United States. A desperate, vindictive con man willing to sacrifice Democratic ideals for his tarnished ego. Despite all of that, the Biden/Harris victory was cause for celebration. This was accented by the acknowledgment speeches by Biden and Harris. Eloquent. Healing. Civilized. Big change from the unspeakable Nazi. So, time for a happy meal. At HG’s request, BSK made omelets stuffed with spinach and feta cheese. Brown on the outside and soft and runny on the inside (the French call this texture “baveuse”). Juicy cherry tomatoes, a ciabatta, Sicilian red wine accompanied. Sighs of pleasure. Pete’s Kitchen, a rough and ready Denver/Colfax Avenue diner, would make this omelet at HG’s request. Smothered it with green chile and served it with hashbrowns and Greek yogurt. Very good. But, not as good as BSK’s savory wonder. Both versions were better than the very subtle cheese omelets served at Romaine de Lyon, long closed New York restaurant. This was a favorite of Mel Brooks and Anne Bancroft. Brooks wrote the screenplay for “The Producers” ( Zero Mostel and Gene Wilder) there.