HUNGRY GERALD

HG/BSK rarely dine at big time, lauded-by-the-critics restaurants. Much too expensive. HG/BSK like to drink wine. Restaurant markups mean that HG/BSK can spend $60-100 on wine and cocktails prior to ordering pricey food. Before dining prices went crazy (Should the greedy landlords be blamed?) HG/BSK had sumptuous meals at the world’s best restaurants. They were expensive but not outlandish. These are some of them. (1) Le Bernardin in New York. Seafood perfection and creativity. (2) Connaught Hotel Restaurant in London (This was years ago before the menu, etc. changed). The best French restaurant ever (And it wasn’t in France). HG/BSK would order English food there: Mixed grill, Dover sole, steak and kidney pie, thinly sliced Scotch smoked salmon. (3) Le Pavillon in New York when it was owned and run by imperious Henri Soule. Lump crabmeat casserole. Roast duck with olives. Smoked eel filets with horseradish whipped cream. (4) The Pool Room of the Four Season (when it was in the Seagram Building). Steaks. Leg of lamb. Desserts. (5) The Oak Room of the Plaza Hotel in New York (years ago). Chateaubriand steak. Braised celery with bone marrow. Pommes souffle. These days when HG/BSK are in London, their favorite spot is J. Sheekey, a relatively affordable seafood paradise. In Paris, it’s Le Stella, a traditional brasserie with oysters, rack of lamb and ile flottante for dessert. Also, modestly priced Ma Bourgogne. Jambon persillade. Escargots. Quenelles. In New York, it’s the wondrous quartet of restaurants owned and run by HG daughter Victoria Freeman and husband/chef Marc Meyer. The restaurants are Rosie’s (Mexican. Located in the East Village); Cookshop (Locavore and Mediterranean. Located on Tenth Avenue near the High Line). Vic’s (Italian and located on Great Jones Street). Shuka (Middle Eastern. Located on Macdougall in the SOHO/Greenwich Village neighborhood). All the restaurants have a joyous atmosphere, warm service, splendid food, imaginative wine lists. And (for New York) they are affordable.

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.

Lewis Carroll nailed it: “Soup of the evening, beautiful soup…” BSK certainly makes beautiful soup. HG’s favorite (also granddaughter Sofia’s fave) is a treat BSK calls “green soup.” It’s a soup filled with creamy deliciousness though no cream is used. HG/BSK had steaming bowls of “green soup” for dinner during another New Mexico snow shower. Nice antidote for chilly nights. So, what’s in “green soup” ? Broccoli, onions, potatoes, tomatoes, spinach, chicken stock, garlic,carrots, parsley, cardamom, nutmeg, Aleppo pepper and salt. BSK cooks this melange until the veggies soften and then purees it with BSK’s immersion blender. The soup offers three benefits: tastes wonderful; very healthy; nice way to ransack the fridge and use a bunch of over the hill vegetables. HG/BSK top their bowls with Greek yogurt and accompany the soup with garlic rubbed toasted baguette. Red wine is the appropriate beverage.

The incessant demands of old age have made HG recall the gracious (and some ribald) public bathrooms of yesteryear. The most monumental “comfort stations” of HG’s Bronx youth were those that Borough President James J. Lyons constructed (with WPA money, HG presumes) during the 1930’s Great Depression years. They looked like Roman mausoleums. Dour city employees (the Democratic Party machine rewarded the faithful) kept them spic and span. During the dark days of The Bronx these were dangerous places. You didn’t enter unless you were armed. In later years HG experienced some attractive bathrooms. The facility in the lobby area of the Algonquin Hotel on W. 44th Street in Manhattan had a courtly gentleman in charge. He would hand HG a towel with a graceful flourish. Best bathroom attendant ever was the man in the Plaza Hotel Oak Room bathroom. He must have been a continental nobleman in former years. HG watched him hand movie immortal Cary Grant a towel. Grant gave him five bucks. Economical HG gave him one dollar. Of course, there were some funny and irreverent attendants (with a stock of scatological humor). Famed was “Old Sam” at the long demolished Polo Grounds stadium in Upper Harlem (the baseball and football Giants played there). “Old Sam” was an aged African-American who would chant: “No matter how you shake and dance, the last drop always falls in your pants. After you’ve had your little pee, don’t forget to remember me. Old Sam.” He was always tipped.

Yes, chicken fat. This is an elixir that captures the very essence of a chicken and is possibly the best artery clogger known to humankind. HG’s late Mom rendered her own and made lavish use of schmaltz. It enriched chopped liver (of course), matzo balls, chopped egg salad, kasha varnishkes, potato blintzes and every variety of stewed and fried dishes. One of Mom’s specialties was “tzimmes”. This was a long simmered stew of carrots, honey, ginger, cinnamon, chicken fat and–ugh!!–chicken feet, HG would push the chicken feet aside and relish the “tzimmes”. Contemporary versions of the dish (even Supergoy Martha Stewart has one) add sweet potatoes, prunes and sugar. Says HG: Feh!!. HG is a radical in politics and a conservative in food, scorning foams, sous vide cooking and other innovations.(many Italians share this proclivity). Schmaltz has entered the American language as defining an excessive sentimentality in drama and musical arts. “Tzimmes” is a Yiddish idiom defining an unnecessary fuss. HG recalls HG’s after school snack: Slice of pumpernickel bread with 1/4 inch of schmaltz and kosher salt and black pepper (sometimes slices of raw onion was added). Armed with this nourishment, HG was a swift and bruising Bronx sandlot football player. If you want to sample an abundance of chicken fat dine at Sammy’s Romanian in New York. There’s a big pitcher of the godly stuff on every table. Sammy’s has frozen vodka, old style Jewish food, music, dancing between tables. Yes, Sammy’s is truly schmaltzy in all meanings of the word.

Many years ago, when HG/BSK lived in Montclair, N.J., HG/BSK had a Colombian, live-in housekeeper named Lucy. When HG/BSK and children would leave for an excursion to Manhattan or elsewhere, Lucy would murmur mournfully “All alone. Lucy is all alone.” HG is rarely “all alone” but when BSK is off to an evening meeting of environmentalists or political activists, HG must prepare a single dinner for HG. Ordering pizza has no appeal. (Only pizza HG has ever tasted in years was the “Skinny Pizza” at Reba & Pancho restaurant in Lewisburg, Pa. during the recent trip from Prince Edward Island. That pizza was a worthy competitor of the grilled pizza at Al Forno restaurant in Providence, R.I.). In HG’s New York days, good Chinese food was only a phone call away. No such amenity in New Mexico or PEI. So, what does HG eat in BSK’s absence? (HG isn’t really alone. Toby, The Wonder Dog, is amiable company). First choice is what Romans eat after a late night of carousing: Spaghetti with oil, garlic, chopped parsley and a shower of red pepper flakes.(Not classically Roman, but HG adds anchovies). Next on the list is Pho, utilizing a good Thai beef flavor paste for the broth. HG adds rice vermicelli, bean sprouts, tofu, sliced sweet onion and a good dose of sesame oil and chili oil. Another choice is Congee (MAMA brand mix). HG tosses in some shrimp and slices of garlic. Tops it with salted peanuts. Sesame oil and chili oil? Of course.

HG is writing this post after a breakfast of oatmeal produced by an Israeli organic farmer transplanted to Prince Edward Island after years of farming in Turkey. Best oatmeal in the world, far surpassing imports from Ireland and Scotland. (Check the HG archive for Oct. 9. 2017 post on oatmeal). BSK cooks oatmeal with dried cranberries, cherries and raisins and serves it with Vermont (or Canadian) maple syrup. Makes the dish lush. Congee, the Asian rice porridge, is another cold weather breakfast treat. Others are: Polenta or Geechie Boy Grits topped with BSK’s perfect poached eggs; softly scrambled eggs in 505 Green Chile Sauce; Quaker Oats grits cooked with cream cheese and mixed with parmesan. In HG’s youth, the little fellow ate a steaming bowl of Wheatena, a grainy wheat porridge (oddly created on Mulberry Street in NYC back in 1879) flavored with a big chunk of butter and sprinkled with kosher salt. The beverage was Droste’s Cocoa. Nourished by this breakfast, HG hustled off to Public School 86 to absorb the spelling and arithmetic lessons that have aided HG throughout his long life.

HG’s beloved parents, Harry and Ida, long deceased, almost never went to restaurants. They were out of the question during the Great Depression when pennies were carefully counted. However, the economy picked up by 1940 and a once-a-month family meal was a happy occasion at Tower Delicatessen and Restaurant on W. Kingsbridge Road in The Bronx. Cost of the meal was 50 cents per person plus a generous tip of 35 cents. So, what did you get for a half buck in this Jewish kosher eatery? Choice of chopped liver (plenty of chicken fat) or gefilte fish (fiery horseradish). Then a bowl of chicken soup with either noodles or kasha. Main dish was boiled chicken with a boiled potato and mushy peas and carrots. More fiery horseradish, mustard and pickles. Lots of rye bread and challah on the table. Dessert was stewed prunes. Beverage was seltzer. Finale was tea.

During HG’s many trips throughout the United States, Europe, Africa (the Moroccan cities of Tangier, Casablanca, Fez and Marrakech); South America (Cartagena, Buenos Aires and much of Brazil); Japan (Tokyo and Kyoto), HG (and BSK) have stayed in luxury hotels, businessperson hotels, chain highway motels, “tourist courts”, etc. There were some memorable experiences. HG had two New York favorites The Algonquin on W. 44th and The Carlyle on the upper east side. When owned by the late Ben Bodne, the lobby of The Algonquin had the air of a fading, aristocratic lounging space in a distinguished English country great house. Gently faded carpet, comfortable sofas and chairs upholstered in gently worn fabric. Mahogany tables and chests that showed their age. Gentle, flattering light. There was no better place for conversation while sipping a cocktail. Despite its literary reputation and hosting of many eccentric and unruly poets and artists, Algonquin customers were very resistant to change. When carpet, upholstery or furniture had to be replaced, Bodne made sure that it was carefully aged so that no change was evident. Dining at the Algonquin was a delight. Oak Room for lunch and Rose Room after theater. The Oak had very good roast beef (plus sweetbreads on Virginia ham; seafood salad; coconut ice cream ball for dessert). The Rose had a joyously flamboyant maitre d’ and served creamy chicken curry. HG/BSK spent two nights in an Algonquin suite some 30 years ago. Arrived in a snowstorm. As expected, the suite was warm, comfortable and timeless. Loved it. The Carlyle had a modest lobby but it was always adorned by beautiful, fashionable women and an occasional movie star. The late Bobby Short was a fixture in the Cafe. The Bemelmans Room was an intimate cocktail lounge decorated with New York and Paris murals (yes, “Madeline” is on the wall) by the late, inimitable artist/writer, Ludwig Bemelmans. HG enjoyed many an expensive, perfectly crafted martini there when business brought HG uptown. HG must (for sentimental reasons) mention plain spoken Motel City on far W. 42nd Street as a fave. HG resided there after a life change. The motel owners owed HG considerable money for publicity services so rent was charged against the debt. And, that was the time when HG met the love of his life, BSK, lucky HG’s wife, partner, companion for 55 years.

Admit it. The photo proves it. HG is a handsome old (very old) guy. Will be (not for some time, HG hopes) an attractive corpse. Photo is of a nicely groomed HG after a haircut by talented Charlottetown, PEI, stylist Samantha Singleton and a beard trim by the incomparable BSK. Except for a brief period in the 60’s and early 70’s when HG was a fashion victim with long hair and bell bottom trousers, HG has always favored short hair styles. In post-World War Two America, HG (like many young men with literary or artistic pretensions) sported an “Oppy”, a short cut emulating the renowned Los Alamos atomic bomb director, J. Robert Oppenheimer (probably the only time an intellectual and scientist inspired fashion). When HG gave up long hair, HG visited a fashionable hair cutter, Antonio. HG was given a “Caesar” cut: Short hair cut straight down to the forehead and the sides shaped by deft use of the scissors. This remains (to the amusement of HG’s children) favorite style (despite growing baldness). Antonio was responsible for one of two hair disasters experienced by HG. Antonio noted that HG’s white hair had a tendency to yellow. He suggested a “steel” rinse. HG agreed. When HG arrived home after the treatment, BSK looked and shouted: “What happened to you? You’ve got blue hair like an old lady!!” Other disaster during a Rockaway summer when HG was 14 years old. Asked the local barber for a “crew cut.” An error. Barber shaved HG’s head making HG an unattractive skinhead. However, HG’s then blonde hair grew back quickly. When very young, HG would get the full Bronx barber shop treatment. Hair cut with a straight part on the left side of the head. Generous application of hair tonic (“Vitalis”?) which dried and stiffened the style for many days. Hot towel to refresh the face. Dusting of talcum powder on back of neck. A lot of service for 25 cents.