HUNGRY GERALD

Yes, HG/BSK try to be as green as possible in terms of food, attention to the ecological environment in which HG/BSK are privileged to live, recycling, energy conservation (heating from natural sources etc.). No, HG/BSK are not voting for Green Presidential Candidate Jill Stein. The enemy, folks, is the Pupin Puppet, Der Trumperer. Enough politics. Let’s go on to a happier subject: HG/BSK’s New Mexico neighbors, Gary and Natasha Gundersen. The remarkable Gundersens are Santa Fe’s premier organic farmers and their stand, Mr.G’s, is an instant sellout at the Santa Fe Farmers Market. When HG/BSK arrived home from days of travel, Gary waved hello and presented a delicious welcome home treat–a big head of lush escarole, freshly picked from the soil. That meant heart and body warming escarole soup. BSK did a riff on the recipe from The Frankies Spuntino Cookbook (a must for your bookshelf if you love down to earth Italian-American-Brooklyn cooking). BSK enriched the soup with plenty of cannelloni beans and bacon. Hot red pepper flakes, a dash of olive oil, abundant Pecorino Romano grated cheese topped the bowls. Next day, HG added cooked Goya Melon Seeds (a small pasta shaped like orzo, but larger). This turned the soup into a version of pasta e fagioli. New York’s late, great Mayor Fiorello H. LaGuardia (“The Little Flower”) loved this dish and called it “pasta fazoole.” HG lifted a spoonful and bowed in memory of the wonderful man who reformed and invigorated New York in the later years of the Great Depression.

Yes, ice cream. Without question and indubitably, it is the best dessert ever created by humankind. HG reflected on this as HG dove into a dessert of Chapman’s (a Canadian company) Maple Walnut. This used to be a ubiquitous ice cream flavor but is now rarely encountered. Better than the easily available butter pecan. When on Prince Edward Island, HG usually enjoys ADL French Vanilla with a splash of local maple syrup. HG’s son-in-law, the distinguished Profesore Massimo R., gifted HG with a jar of Italian pistachio cream. A small topping of this ethereal substance transports vanilla ice cream to a higher realm. During the early days of HG’s marriage to BSK (Some 53 years ago), BSK introduced hubby HG to a midwestern ice cream dessert: The Tin Roof. Vanilla ice cream with a topping of Hershey’s Chocolate Syrup and Planter’s Cocktail Peanuts. HG/BSK always indulged in this on summer Sunday nights after returning to Manhattan from sun kissed beach weekends on Fire Island. The combination of creamy, sweet, salty and crunchy was extraordinary. (If you make a Tin Roof be sure to use Planter’s Cocktail Peanuts. Don’t substitute). When at home in New Mexico, HG favors Talenti Gelato (available in a nearby supermarket). Sea Salt Caramel is the best flavor. When in Paris, HG often passes on the pastry desserts in favor of legendary Berthillon ice cream. Very good, but inferior to the sublime ice cream made on the premises at Barney’s, a Rockaway Beach ice cream parlor that flourished in HG’s youth. Was it really that good or is the memory enhanced by HG’s nostalgia?

Some 31 years ago,HG/BSK left New York for a horse ranch in the Rocky Mountain foothills. Then, after almost two decades, moved to a spacious Denver apartment. Now, of course, HG/BSK live in a New Mexico oasis and an oceanfront paradise on Canada’s Prince Edward Island. Lots of serenity, pure air and natural beauty. Peace. Yet, HG sometimes misses the frantic speed of New York. When HG left The Apple for calmer environs, HG noted that everything slowed down. That was obvious when HG began to dine out in the great West: From checkout lines to diners to coffee shops, everything seemed to drag like a leaden balloon punctuated by the cheery (and time consuming) “Have a good one!” that ended seemingly every interaction. On the contrary, going to HG’s New York office, HG would pop into an adjacent coffee shop. “A bialy with a shmear (cream cheese) and a light coffee.” Got it in a flash. Lunch (when in a hurry): “BLT. Whole wheat toast. Mayo. Iced coffee.” Faster than a speeding bullet. Sure, classy restaurants with tablecloths, etc. were properly leisurely. But, in casual eateries you got it fast and got it good. Today, “fast food” means the burger, pizza and taco chains. Crapola. They give speed a bad name.

Arthur Avenue in the Belmont section of The Bronx is New York’s best venue for Italian food. Besides the big market, there are many adjoining shops: Bakeries, butchers, fish merchants, etc. Discerning SJ often visits to pick up wonderful food for his family. Doesn’t seem to mind the drive from his Brooklyn home. Besides retailers, Arthur Avenue has a number of good restaurants and pizza joints. One of HG’s favorite restaurant is unchanging, eccentric Dominick’s. No menus. No checks. Cash only. No reservations. You eat at long, communal tables in a room devoid of anything that could be termed decor. The waiter asks you:”What do you want to eat?” HG usually responds: “Clams to start” ( delicious platter of Clams Oreganatta is provided). HG has often followed with an oil and garlic spaghetti (to be shared) and a main dish of pork chops or chicken scarpariello (both accompanied by vinegar peppers and hot cherry peppers. The food is hearty, flavorful, authentic. The portions are huge. The prices are moderate (No checks, as HG has noted. The waiter tells you what is owed). No room for dessert. HG ends the meal with a digestif. Arthur Avenue is usually crowded with New Yorkers from all boroughs, local residents, suburbanites and tourists. Lines at Dominick’s can be long so plan on early dining. In a changing world, Dominick’s remains an unchanging stalwart.

There’s a sad (realistic but wistful) op-ed column by Jayne Merkel and Julia Wertz in the August 26 New York Times about New York’s disappearing store fronts. The small business stores gave New York streets a diversity, visual interest and convenience for the people who lived in their neighborhoods. During HG/BSK’s New York life on the Upper West Side and in Greenwich Village, they patronized scores of tiny groceries, esoteric bookstores, clothing retailers, etc.. Shopping avenues were speckled with shoe repair shops, laundries (many Chinese owned and staffed), dry cleaners, tailors. Most of life’s needs were met by a short stroll. Even on fashionable Madison Avenue, there were unusual shops that defied the real estate monsters. HG/BSK recall buying tiny, pleated silk lampshades at a shop that specialized in such frippery. M.J. Knoud, the aristocratic saddlery and riding apparel store at 63rd and Madison, was a delight. HG bought a splendid riding raincoat there. (Didn’t own a horse then but it came in handy when HG was an active equestrian on HG/BSK’s Colorado horse ranch). Incidentally, New York now has only one major equestrian store. Historic Miller’s and Kaufman’s (both on E. 24th) are long gone as is the Claremont Riding Academy (in the West 70’s) and the Central Park equestrian trails. Madison Avenue is now lined with the flagship stores of American and foreign fashion companies. Prices are mind numbing. When HG strolled the Madison Avenue of yesteryear, HG often stopped at an incongruous, seemingly out of place, old fashioned diner. Served honest food. HG has a fond memory of the counterman scooping some freshly ground beef (Didn’t use any rubber or plastic gloves. Bare hands sufficed) and slapping it on the oiled griddle with a heap of sliced onions. Served on a toasted, buttered roll, it was the best burger in town.

The Yiddish word “schmaltz” has entered the American lexicon. It is usually applied to entertainment, meaning corny or over sentimental. Schmaltz, of course, is chicken fat, the basis of much tasty Eastern European Jewish cuisine. When HG was a boy, HG’s Father took the little fellow to clothing shops on the Lower East Side. The shops were owned by friends of HG’s Father and there was much happy Yiddish conversation while little HG was praised for his good looks and intellect. A heavy mackinaw was bought in one place, ear flapped cap in another. Corduroy knickers climaxed the shopping. HG and Father lunched in one of the many “Romanian broilings” restaurants in the neighborhood (Sammy’s Romanian is the last remaining). Dad and son ate “carnezelach” (cigar shaped broiled chopped beef stuffed with chopped onions and garlic accompanied by fried “silver dollar” potatoes. There was a pitcher of chicken fat on the table and was poured generously over the dishes (plus the accompanying sliced raw onions and pumpernickel bread). HG still dreams about those lunches. Chicken fat is versatile. Obligatory with chopped liver. Great with mashed potatoes (or kasha) and fried onions. HG’s Mom added it to “tzimmes”, a long simmered dish of carrots, honey and cinnamon (plus chicken feet which added a gelatinous texture). Some Chinese chefs fry triangles of red pepper in chicken fat and use the peppers to top noodle dishes. Very hard to find chicken fat these days, but quite easy to render at home. Although, in a pinch, you can still find it online from some kosher food suppliers.

The “pletzel” is a soft roll baked with a topping of fried onions. Now hard to find, it was once a staple in New York Jewish bakeries and bread baskets in “dairy” restaurants. They were also served in all of the great cafeterias like Belmore and Dubrow’s. One of HG’s favorite meals was at Belmore: A bowl of egg noodles with pot cheese; a buttered pletzel with lettuce and muenster cheese; many cups of coffee. HG has previously written about the warm gefilte fish at Famous Paramount Dairy Restaurant on W. 72nd Street. HG would dip pletzels in the warm broth (sided with powerful horse radish). Waiters looked on with disdain. They thought the only proper accompaniment for the dish was “challah” (egg bread). Candy store pretzels were another New York staple. They were kept in two containers, one for long, straight pretzels and the other for the traditional twisted shapes. They were the perfect snack when accompanied by an “egg cream”. The “egg cream” was constructed with seltzer, chocolate syrup and milk. (HG is the author of the section on egg creams in The Jewish Encyclopedia). The soft pretzel sold on New York streets was (and is) vile. The soft pretzel (with a squirt of mustard) sold in Philadelphia is delicious.

The late Larry Gore was a renowned Broadway press agent (and comic strip author). He had a sardonic wit. Gore commented after Israel’s Six Day War: “An Arab spokesman said: ‘Unfair. They have 2,300,000 Jews and we have none.'”. The nationally syndicated columnist Earl Wilson quoted the quip in his “It Happened One Night” column and it became a much repeated phrase. Gore’s office was a gathering place for the many comedians and night club performers he represented. They encouraged Larry to run his annual “Bore Party.” The party was attended by both Larry’s friends and local bores, that is, boring individuals whose self absorption made them oblivious in all ways to others. HG and the late Sander Greenberg assisted Larry at one bore party. They served platters of Uneeda biscuits sandwiching a triscuit (held together with a toothpick) and rock candy. The beverage was warm seltzer, no ice. Larry hired a thug to sit outside the bathroom. He demanded the bores pay him $1.00 to enter (no one ever mentioned this as outrageous). A glance at some of the guests: The estranged remittance man – son of a distinguished California family. Obsessed with cowboy movies. A Broadway shirt merchant who claimed that he was a great Shakespearean actor frozen out of classic theater because of anti-semitism. Retailing was only a sideline. There was a manager of a 42nd Street hot dog stand who relentlessly quoted baseball statistics. Others included a conspiracy theorist. According to him, everything was fixed by wily conspirators. Their targets included sports, theater and movie reviewing. Plus politics, of course (hey, the guy was sometimes right). There were a number of unmelodic song writers, off key singers and unfunny comics. All held day jobs in the theater district and considered themselves as an integral part of show biz. Entertainment for the party was by a rotund man in snug matador pants, Spanish high heels and colorful bolero. He fancied himself an expert Flamenco dancer. He was a ludicrous klutz. As he danced to recorded music, Sander and HG would make rapturous comments: “Look at that footwork!” “Dance genius!” “Better than anyone in Spain!” It was a happy party. The bores said they had a wonderful time and thanked Larry for his gracious hospitality.

HG is not a big fan of desserts. Usually prefers to end a meal with a cheese platter and red wine. However, HG recalls with fondness desserts HG enjoyed in New York of yesteryear. Number one, of course, was the hot fudge sundae at Rumpelmayer’s on Central Park South. This was also loved by young SJ and Lesley R. when HG took the youngsters to New York for a “treat day.”. Another great ice cream dessert was the vanilla ice cream ball rolled in toasted coconut. This was served at the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel. Other sweet splendors: Frozen banana daiquiris at Fornos; Nesselrode pie at Grand Central Oyster Bar; pots de creme at the Oak Room of the Plaza Hotel; cheesecake at Reuben’s (and Lindy’s); coconut custard pie at the Automat; strudel at Eclair. Ed Berberian’s Balkan-Armenian Restaurant on E. 26 Street served a wonderful middle eastern treat–Baklava with Ekmek. The Ekmek was a cross between ice cream and dense whipped cream. Perfect with the sweet pastry. HG is very fond of Paris bistro desserts: Tarte tatin with plentiful creme fraiche; creme caramel; ice cream (from Berthillon) and ile flottante (the best is at Le Stella). Favorite dessert in London is chestnut puree with whipped cream at Gay Hussar. When HG has a sweets craving on Prince Edward Island (which seems to be often, notes SJ), HG opts for Lebanese halvah or vanilla ice cream with Island maple syrup.

Oysters are bred and farmed in a score of Prince Edward Island’s bays and coves. Many delicious varieties. Johnny Flynn’s Colville Bay oysters have shells with a distinctive green tinge. They are super delicious. HG is also addicted to the big, briny Malpeque Bay oysters and an interesting variety farmed in Savage Harbor. HG likes to have an oyster feast of eight Colville Bays followed by four Malpeques and climaxed by four Grilled Malpeques (a BSK specialty) flavored with a bit of melted butter. PEI oyster eating has brought back happy memories of gluttonous lunches at The Oyster Bar in New York’s Grand Central Terminal. During HG’s New York days, HG would lunch there twice or three times a month. (Months that had an “R” in them, of course). HG lunched there alone. Didn’t want witnesses to HG’s overindulgence. The lunch: Six Long Island littleneck clams on the half shell. Six Wellfleet oysters on the half shell. Oyster Pan Roast. Nesselrode pie.(This is a custard pie filled with candied fruits and topped with whipped cream.Disappeared from restaurant menus many years ago. Most contemporary chefs have never heard of it). Ballantine’s IPA Ale. The pan roast is the Oyster Bar’s signature dish. In HG’s day, the mix of oysters, chili sauce,Oyster brine, cream, celery salt and paprika was cooked at the bar (where HG always sat) in a special machine by an experienced Italian chef. The wonder mix was poured into a bowl over a slice of dry toast. Celestial. HG/BSK have a record of failure in trying to duplicate this dish. Can’t recapture that Oyster Bar magic.