HUNGRY GERALD

Avgolemono soup (or sauce when thickened) is a Greek delight. A mix of egg, lemon juice and chicken broth, the soup is thickened with rice and topped with chopped parsley or mint (a sprinkle of Spanish Pimenton is optional). When used as a sauce it is versatile. Greeks use it as a topping for roast chicken, dolmades and grilled lamb. (BSK uses it on butterflied and barbecued leg of lamb, a sublime dish). Last night, BSK poached a filet of fresh halibut in the soup. The result was sea ecstasy, the perfect blend of the Aegean and Atlantic waters. Though simple, Avgolemono demands precise timing. BSK followed the late Michael Field’s recipe from “All Manner of Food.” (Field was the best writer of foolproof recipes). BSK was trying to replicate the soup BSK first tasted years ago at the late Leon Lianidis restaurant, The Coach House, on Waverley Place in Greenwich Village. BSK scored a bullseye. Avgolemono soup was a favorite of young HG at inexpensive New York Greek restaurants like Pantheon on 8th Avenue. The Pantheon sometimes added a scoop of orzo to the soup to create a hearty and filling mix. HG did the same last night (purist BSK observed with scorn). In any case, Avgolemono (soup or sauce) is sprightly with light elements of Hollandaise. HG suggests you make it part of your culinary arsenal.

Yes, bread is much lauded as an essential food. It has a lengthy history and is mentioned frequently in The Bible. But, HG is not a big fan. HG, a Francophile, knows a French breakfast is most often a chunk of buttered fresh baguette accompanied by cafe au lait. HG passes. Prefers yogurt. However, HG does like buttered baguette with Roquefort or Gorgonzola as a dinner course preceding dessert. Jewish rye, of course is essential, for successful pastrami or corned beef sandwiches. (Remember Annie Hall ordering a pastrami sandwich on white bread with mayo?) HG likes dark pumpernickel bread with smoked fish. HG despises bagels but will eat an occasional bialy. (They have gone downhill sharply. Even the ones from famed Kossar’s). HG only eats croissants and brioche in Paris but their quality continues to decline.(Best croissants came from the long closed Sutter’s bakeries in New York). HG has always been surprised when American restaurant diners stuff themselves with rolls and butter before the meal is served. In civilized countries, bread is only eaten with the meal. HG’s distinguished son-in-law, Profesore/ Uficiale/Dottore Massimo R., would consider it unthinkable to have a meal without bread. Often mops up remaining sauce with a small bit of bread. (the bread for for this purpose is called “a little shoe” in Italian). BSK is a fan of good artisan bread. Likes to toast a slice with bread and cheese for breakfast. This is the major use for bread in the HG/BSK household. Since artisan bread without chemicals gets stale quickly, much is thrown away. As time goes on, HG eats less bread, cheese and meat but more yogurt, fruit, vegetables, seafood and chicken. This is not a health focused diet (witness HG’s devouring of cholesterol rich oysters and tripe plus drinking much alcohol), just preference.

Many years ago, New York’s theater district and the cross streets that extended into the far west side were dotted with plain spoken, very traditional French bistros. Hearty, affordable food and rough and ready wine. Close to the waterfront were the rugged bistros favored by French seamen from the ocean liners. Those were the places where young HG first sampled beef hearts, tete de veau and other innards plus long simmered stews. At the classier (but still economical) bistros near the theaters were where HG first tasted frog legs. HG approached the dish with apprehension. But, culinary curiosity forced HG to order a plate. HG was hooked. Whether cooked a la Provencal (with tomatoes and onions) or sauteed in olive oil with garlic and a sprinkling of paprika, HG always ordered them before proceeding to brains, kidneys or boeuf bourginon. Hard to find on restaurant menus these days (even in Paris). Thus, HG was happy last summer to find frozen frog legs in the fish counter at Sobey’s Supermarket in Charlottetown. HG ate dozens (the sautee version) before being admonished by daughter Lesley R.. Because she is the communications and marketing director for a major health care provider in Rhode Island, she is knowledgeable about the harmful effects of certain foods. Asian frog legs are harvested in dirty, fetid swamps and streams and processed in less-than-ideal environs. Eat at your own risk, said she. HG did admit to some queasiness after a big plate of frog legs. HG believes this was due to Lesley-induced fears plus an overindulgence in vodka. With these fragile justifications in mind, HG picked up a half pound of attractive, fresh frog legs at the Atlantic Superstore in C’town.They were meaty, tender, delicious. No bad after effects. Sadly, all of those cheap and tasty west side French bistros have disappeared. Only one remains, the tiny Chez Napoleon. The women who run it feature all of the classics including frog legs and brains in black butter. The menu is a roll call of old time French good things. Plus, you can get a very good souffle if you order it at the beginning of your meal. Chez Napoleon, long may it reign.

Sad news. The Forward reported today that Ben’s deli in the Rego Park section of Queens has closed. That’s dreadful. During HG’s long career as a public relations counselor, HG was often in Rego Park where he met with real estate biggies, politicos and journalists assigned to the Queens beat. This was long before Queens (and Rego Park) became heavily internationalized and multi-ethnic, multi-lingual. Big Jewish population. At Ben’s, HG often lunched with HG’s long time client, the late real estate mogul Sam Lefrak (This was before Sam discovered his alleged French ancestry and changed his last name to the classier “LeFrak”). HG and Sam plotted PR maneuvers as they wolfed down giant pastrami and corned beef sandwiches plus French fries, potato salad and cole slaw. The beverage was Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray Tonic. They were often joined by another Ben’s habituee, the then Queens Borough President Don Manes (later a suicide as he faced corruption charges). Ben’s, Gitlitz (on Broadway and 79th), Second Avenue Delicatessen (when run by the late, tragically murdered Abe Lebewohl) were HG’s favorite New York Jewish delis. All gone. Jewish delicatessens are a vanishing species. Health reasons? Loss of Jewish identity? Assimilation? Fear of heartburn? Who know. Katz’s remains, of course. However, HG has never fancied Katz’s. Overrated.

HG thinks of Bruce M. as his Irish son. Bruce is a tall, handsome, dark haired Irish-American from a multitudinous Long Island working class family. HG was Bruce’s mentor in the public relations business (art? craft? profession? scam?). In any case, Bruce was a gifted pupil. He not only had a good grasp  about how to gain media attention, he understood business strategy  (especially in the toy industry) and  had a gift for finance. Plus, he was interested in computers and the digital revolution. While HG was pounding away at his ancient, non-electric Royal manual typewriter, Bruce was instrumental in converting Gerald Freeman, Inc.. (later Freeman Public relations) to the new fangled electrionic wonders. Bruce has achieved much success in the PR  industry (outstripping his mentor). He is honored in the Public Relations Hall of Fame at Utica College. This was Bruce’s alma mater and one of the very few colleges offering a public relations curriculum. But, it is Bruce’s human qualities that has made HG think of Bruce as a son (he gives HG too much credit for his human and business success). Bruce has had to overcome obstacles that could have destroyed him. He battled. He won. With style and courage. He has become a political progressive and a caring father of three remarkable sons. He recently visited HG/BSK in New Mexico with his beautiful, stylish long time partner, Theresa T. When she was a home style executive with Ralph Lauren, Theresa and Bruce came to HG/BSK’s Colorado mountain ranch. Theresa gifted HG/BSK with a lush Lauren camel hair throw. The Bruce/Theresa coupling didn’t work out (timing?) but they got together again some years ago, They’re a joy to contemplate. As for the camel hair,it warms HG as he reads before his kiva fireplace on chilly nights., And, certainly, it conveys happy thoughts about HG’s Irish son and his lovely companion.

Yes, salmon cooked properly in the unilateral style (as noted by HG in a previous post) is delicious. But, salmon really scales the heights to heaven when it is smoked. There are few better things than “Novy” smoked salmon sliced professionally at three old time New York stalwarts: Russ & Daughters; Zabar’s and Murray’s. Thankfully, these sources ship their products nationally. Go online for their treats. HG likes his smoked salmon on a warmed bialy coated with scallion cream cheese. Also good on buttered Jewish rye or pumpernickel (Zabar’s is a good source). Irish and Scotch smoked salmon are very good but denser and smokier than Novy. BSK likes smoked salmon with lots of capers and squeezes of lemon. HG eschews these adornments. BSK fries onions and warms slices of smoked salmon and adds them to lush softly scrambled eggs. A dusting of dill. Accompanied by buttered English Muffins and cups of hot coffee, this is breakfast (or brunch) glory. Gravlax is another salmon delight. Good quality raw filet of salmon is rubbed with a brown sugar, salt and pepper mix. Doused with vodka or gin. Smothered in fresh dill. Placed in the refrigerator under some heavy weights for a day or two. Then sliced thin and served with a mustard/dill sauce. HG first tasted gravlax on the deck of a Fire Island home owned by a very crazy lady and her husband, a skilled cook and bartender. After a long day in the sun and sea, HG ate gravlax and washed it down with icy martinis. Definition of the good life.

The latest AARP Bulletin calls cupping a fad. Cupping has been used by such athletic stars as Michael Phelps and LeBron James to relieve muscle pain and cramping. In traditional Chinese medicine, hot glass cups are placed along sensitive trigger points on the body to create suction and blood flow. HG’s beloved late Mom would sneer at the notion that cupping is a “fad.” She would stand with LeBron and Phelps and call cupping a useful, sometimes essential, part of the medical arsenal. Mom called cupping haiseh bynkes (hot cups). When HG was a very little fellow growing up in the East Bronx, “haiseh bynkes” were part of the cure when the little fellow was suffering from bronchitis. The “Bynkes Man” was summoned. He was a small, old Jewish man with a derby, whiskey breath and grimy clothes. He carried a satchel of glass cups and a candle stand used to heat the cups. The very hot cups were applied to ailing HG’s body. Ouch!! Ouch!! After the “haiseh bynkes” ordeal, HG drank a guggel muggle. This hearty beverage consisted of hot milk, honey and a very generous shot of rye whiskey (the “bynkes” man received a glass of the whiskey along with his modest payment). The old fashioned cure worked. Little HG was soon alert, lively and healthy. We should all acknowledge after the recent celebration of Mother’s Day: MOTHER KNOWS BEST. (Postscript: An ineffectual tactic or strategy to avert failure is known by the Yiddish phrase helft vee taiten bynkes. Translation: It helps like dead (cold) cups.)

Yes, that was how the gifted master of light verse, Ogden Nash, sneered at HG’s hometown, a splendid borough. Stupid comment about a borough filled with wonders. One of the great zoos in the world. The best botanical gardens. The Bronx Community College in University Heights (the 55-acre campus was purchased from NYU in 1973) which contains outstanding architecture by Stanford White and modernist Marcel Breuer. Plus the majestic Hall of Fame, busts of famous (and not so celebrated) Americans. There’s Riverdale and Fieldston, lofty apartment houses plus distinguished houses (once occupied by people like Arturo Toscannini and Henry Morganthau). It’s a neighborhood that has housed many artists like Elie Nadelman who found studio space in the spacious residences. The Bronx has Arthur Avenue, the site of the best Italian food in the five boroughs. The Grand Concourse (and Promenade) features some of the most outstanding art deco architecture in New York. And, there’s some odd landmarks like Poe Cottage where Edgar Allen Poe allegedly composed some of his works. The Mott Haven neighborhood is now sprouting breweries and good ethnic restaurants plus the lofts are beginning to house some intrepid folk. Borough President James J. Lyons was furious at Nash’s putdown and demanded an apology. Nash apologized in 1964: “I can’t seem to escape the sins of my smart alec youth. I shudder to confess them. Now an older and wiser man I cry ‘The Bronx, God bless them'”.

There was a time (namely the 50’s and 60’s) when New York City was world capital of steak. And, the carnivorous center was Steak Row (E.45th Street from Lexington to First and its environs). The Daily Mirror was published an E. 45th and the Daily News on E. 42nd. In addition, the area housed lots of news and wire services, and feature syndicates. Some of the steak houses had news related names: Pen and Pencil, Press Box. The Editorial, Front Page, Late Edition, Fourth Estate. Other steak joints on 45th and the surrounding area were Joe and Rose, Palm, McCarthy’s, Pietro’s, Danny’s Hideaway, Assembly, Mike Manuche’s and Christ Cella. In the west side theater district there were Gallagher’s and Frankie & Johnny. On 23rd Street, the wonderful Cavanagh’s. Of course, in Brooklyn the kingpin was Peter Luger’s (still reigning). Of them all, HG’s favorite was Christ Cella. Not content to serve the best steaks, salads and cocktails HG ever savored, Christ Cella would greet the spring season with the ultimate platter of shad, shad roe and bacon (Christ Cella was one of HG’s seven favorite New York restaurants of all time. The others were Le Pavillon, Fornos, Luchow’s, Gage and Tollner, Gitlitz Delicatessen and Keen’s. Only Keen’s remains). When HG/BSK lived in Colorado, their favored dining spot was the Denver branch of Palm. Unlike Palm on Second Avenue in New York (“Where Tough Guys Feed Big Shots”), The service was gentle and friendly in the western mode. HG’s favorite dish was sliced rare sirloin served over a tossed salad. BSK replicates this dish, improving it with lush blue cheese dressing. Like New York, Denver Palm adorns its walls with cartoons of local celebrities. As a leading local PR pro, HG felt like a Big Shot as HG dined beneath a flattering cartoon of HG’s handsome mug.

In HG’s youth, The Bronx was dotted with small “drug stores.” They were never called “pharmacies” and the man in charge was a “druggist,” not a “pharmacist.” The drug stores have disappeared, replaced by the huge impersonal pharmacy chains: Walgreens, CVS and in New York, Duane Reade. The old time druggist presided over his domain behind a counter with a background of multi-colored apothecary jars. He was a valuable resource in Bronx neighborhoods. He performed quasi-medical tasks like removing a cinder from an eye, putting iodine on a scraped knee. He gave free medical advice. If things looked grim, he would say: “See a doctor.” Timid young men would whisper “Trojans” to the druggist and would receive the condoms without comment. Then the condoms would nestle in a wallet (often for years) until the long awaited romantic moment arrived.