HUNGRY GERALD

HG was dismayed to learn that New York Mayor Bill De Blasio wants to get rid of Central Park’s horse-drawn carriages. Claims the horses are being mistreated. Okay, maybe the horses need some supervision and their health should be protected. But, please, please don’t end those romantic carriage rides. HG has joyous memories of carriage rides through the park with young BSK. The happiest ride HG/BSK had was one crisp New York autumn night. HG/BSK finished a sumptuous dinner at the Oak Room in the Plaza Hotel. HG/BSK strolled to Central Park where the carriages were stationed near Fifth Avenue. Spoke to a carriage driver. After a jaunt in Central Park the carriage ride continued to the Central Park West park entrance at West 81st Street and from there to HG/BSK’s rent controlled, spacious paradise on 79th and Riverside Drive. Big tip for the driver. HG/BSK poured some wine. Looked out at the Hudson River and the “SPRY for Frying. SPRY for Baking” sign atop the New Jersey Palisades (SPRY was a CRISCO competitor). No, this wasn’t a scene from a Woody Allen movie. It was real, romantic life in Noo Yawk of yesteryear.

Two events, one tragic and one sad, took place in New York City some 18 years ago. For HG, these events marked the end of New York’s Jewish ambience. Sure, the New York of that time, like today, had multitudes of Italians, Irish, African-Americans, Asians, and Hispanics. But, it was the Jews who set the overall tone of the city. The tragic event took place on March 5, 1996. On that day, Abe Lebewohl, the proprietor of the original Second Avenue Delicatessen (2nd Avenue and 10th Street), was shot and killed as he delivered cash receipts to a nearby bank. Lebewohl not only ran a great Jewish delicatessen, he was also a direct link to Second Avenue’s colorful past as the home of Yiddish theater. And, he honored that past by naming one of the delicatessen’s dining rooms after Molly Picon, a Yiddish musical star (and a favorite of HG’s Mom). Wonderful Jewish delicatessens like Gitlitz (79th and Broadway) are gone. Katz’s remains on the Lower East Side — a stalwart in these lean deli times where the venerable Carnegie Deli has devolved into a grotesque tourist trap known only for the over-stuffed size of their sandwiches.

The sad event was the closing of Lou G. Siegel’s on June 29, 1996. It had been in business for 79 years. Lou G. Siegel was a distinguished and dignified restaurant in the heart of New York’s Garment Center (38th Street just west of Seventh Avenue). It was strictly kosher (there were two Rabbis on the payroll) and the food was delicious, hearty and caloric. It was where observant Jewish (were there any other?) clothing executives dined. The non-observant big shot Jews ate at Al Cooper’s, further east on 38th. The garment workers frequented Dubrow’s and the other very good cafeterias in the vicinity. They are all gone. Seventh Avenue has been named “Fashion Avenue”. The Garment Center with its rabid union members, gangsters and famed lunchtime schmooze is now the Fashion District. The habitues of Siegel’s kingdom of chicken fat and rugelach would have a sardonic laugh. Siegel’s was the best of a host of traditional kosher restaurants that served meat ( Kosher law, “kashriuth”, forbids the mingling of meat and dairy products). Some of the other restaurants of that type were Moskowitz & Lupowitz and Gluckstern’s. Sammy’s Romanian (Allen and Delancey) is a survivor. The food (non-kosher) is tasty. The prices are steep. The atmosphere is a Jewish parody, a broad dialect joke. The great, strictly dairy (and fish) Jewish restaurants (Ratner’s, Rappaport’s, Steinberg’s, Paradise) are gone although some smaller operations still exist. This is not to say that there aren’t kosher restaurants left in New York — There are plenty of them spread throughout the five boroughs, catering to a new generation of the observant and a new group of Israeli and Russian Jewish immigrants. The menus would be un-recognizable to the observant Jews of fifty years ago as they feature kosher sushi, kosher Italian and kosher Indian food (amongst others). The restaurants HG misses most are those that were not kosher and had wide ranging menus that included, but were not confined to, Eastern European Jewish food. The three greatest, of course, were Lindy’s, Reuben’s and Tip Toe Inn. Gone. New York has, for better or worse, lost much of its Jewish flavor. It is now a truly international city with a cuisine to match. No, New York is no longer Jewish but it if you are hungry it’s a great town.

HG learned to love French food more than six decades ago. At that time, New York had many modest French bistros in the theater district; but, the really rough-and-ready, down-home French cuisine was found in the bistros west of Ninth Avenue. These were the joints that catered to French sailors from the Ile de France and other cruise ships that docked on the Hudson River. A meal cost about $1.50 (with wine). Lots of offal. It was in these bistros that HG learned to love tete de veau, kidneys, liver, gizzards, brains, etc. There were also some delicious, long simmered winy stews. Beef cheeks (never on an American menu) were a fave of HG’s female companions — fastidious damsels who didn’t fancy the organs ordered by HG. The French dining was often preceded by a good foreign film at The Stanley on gritty W. 42nd Street. A ticket was 35 cents. Apres dinner was garlic scented lovemaking in the best case scenario (or chaste companionship in the worst) in a $30 a month one room apartment on the West Side or Greenwich Village. Ah, ardent youth in a long ago, long gone, cheap New York.

Of course, Little Italy in Manhattan (what’s left of it) is a dining shambles. Shoddy tourist traps that glorify fictionalized TV Mafiosi. Sure, Mario Carbone and Rich Torrisi have brought back quality to the neighborhood with Carbone, Parm and Torrisi Italian Specialties — essentially high priced, high concept homages to red sauce, Italian home cooking restaurants. These are meant for the Wall Street crowd and deep pocketed foodies. They don’t change the overall dismal ambience of the neighborhood. Octogenarian HG remembers (with fondness) the once excellent Grotto Azzura (a favorite with detectives and bail bondsmen); Luna (where Crazy Joey Gallo often dined); Angelo’s (once classy); Vincent’s (fiery scungili but HG always preferred the super spicy Italian seafood joint on the corner of Mott and Pell in Chinatown). There were also many small, cheap places in Little Italy where a meal of clams casino, spaghetti (big portion of very good tomato, meat or mushroom sauce), pitcher of cheap red wine cost very few bucks. These days if you want traditional New York Italian-American food served by gruff guys in maroon vests you’ve got to go to Staten Island; Brooklyn (Williamsburg, Bensonhurst, Coney Island); Queens (Corona, Ozone Park); The Bronx (Arthur Avenue). Little Italy? Fuhgeddabout it!!!

Christmas Eve. Time for the Feast of the Seven Fishes. The Russian-Jewish-Italian-English-Irish-Japanese-American-Canadian HG/BSK family gives this Italian tradition a twist by focusing on smoked fish from New York’s venerable Russ & Daughters. SJ brought the goodies from New York) with a stop at Kossar’s Bialys for authentic bialys and great bagels). There were two kinds of herring (Fresh fillets from Holland and German-style roll mops). Three kinds of smoked salmon (Western Atlantic Nova, Gaspe Bay Nova and Double Smoked Danish). Two types of caviar (salmon and topiko). Sable. And, R & D’s signature chopped whitefish and baked salmon salad. Count them. Nine seafood varieties. The family believes in abundance. Olives. Capers. Three varieties of cream cheese. Sliced onions. Celeriac salad. Hearts of Palm and tomato salad. Sour cream. Creme fraiche. Gifted Daughter Lesley R. made blinis and delightful crepes enriched with buttermilk. HG drank (okay, guzzled) lots of icy vodka and ale chasers (drawing some frowns). Other family members practiced moderation. Wonderful, joyous feast. A happy family tradition.

A Christmas wander many decades ago on the then un-gentrified, rough-around-the-edges Upper West Side of New York City: With the kids well insulated against the cold, HG/BSK strolled north on Broadway. Passed Zabar’s, the temple of great smoked fish, bread and cheese. Much smaller then. Passed the New Yorker cinema (perpetually playing “The Sorrow and the Pity”). Passed The Symphony (then a movie house, not a performing arts center). Passed The Thalia (the tiny, eccentric movie theater that showed only the great classics–foreign and domestic). Passed the Senate Cafeteria (the place where Holocaust survivors drank endless cups of tea and provided habitué I.B. Singer–who relished the Senate tunafish salad–with material for his Nobel Prize-winning fictions). Passed the 96th Street newsstand (the best and busiest in New York). Arrived at the destination on 98th: The Great Shanghai Chinese Restaurant. Friends and their children were waiting. What a lovely way to spend a Christmas holiday late afternoon — gathered around a big round table with hungry pals devouring savory Chinese food. The Great Shanghai was large and loud, ruled by an imperious Chinese lady. The food was wonderful and the menu was both expansive and very inexpensive. The kids loved the dumplings and noodle dishes. The adults concentrated on the seafood — exceptional lobster, shrimp, scallop and crab dishes. Plus whole fish steamed with ginger, garlic and black beans or fried and topped with a fiery Szechuan sauce. After farewells, HG/BSK and the kids (who were anticipating dessert) picked up sweet good things at Babka Bakery on 79th and ice cream at adjacent Gourmet Treats. Yes, it was the Sixties and America was involved in domestic turmoil and bloody, wasteful war (So, what else is new?) but HG/BSK could put peace marching and civil rights activism aside and enjoy the delights of food and family.

Al Goldstein, the eccentric publisher of Screw magazine and pioneer of hard core, “non socially redeeming” porn is dead. At one point in his very checkered career (according to the Times obit) he was a “greeter” at the 2nd Avenue Delicatessen in New York. Only met Al once (when he was a deranged teenager) but his father, Sammy, was a pal. Sammy, a news photographer at International News Photos, loved to eat. (so did Al, who once weighed 350 pounds). When HG was a photo editor at INP, HG and Sammy (a pastrami addict), shared many meals at the 2nd Avenue Deli and Katz’s. (The duo also overate at Ratner’s, Sammy’s, Dubiner’s,Rappaport’s and other Lower East Side eateries). Sammy was a very good boxing photographer. HG has a vivid memory of Sammy at Madison Square Garden (then on 8th Avenue) ringside putting down his Speed Graphic between rounds to munch on (you guessed it) a pastrami on rye.

New York’s Gramercy Park has always been a jewel — and during the Christmas season, it is an especially glamorous jewel. The elegant private park (just south of E.23rd Street and Lexington Avenue) blooms with discreet holiday decorations and the backdrop of turn-of-the century buildings gives the whole neighborhood just the right, magical touch of old New York. During the holiday season HG/BSK would often stroll around the perimeter of the park honing their appetites for dinner at Paul & Jimmy’s Italian Restaurant on Irving Place. (They would pause for a moment to admire the opulent Ben Sonnenberg mansion on the southeast corner of Irving Place and the Park). Happily, Paul & Jimmy’s menu featured great traditional dishes: Mozzarella in Carozza, Clams Oreganata, Stuffed Mushrooms, Chicken Scarpariello, Shrimp Fra Diavola, etc. All of the pasta primi were outstanding and, to HG/BSK’s joy, so was the seafood. Whiting in Brodetto and Striped Bass with Vinegar and Garlic were memorable. Yes, there’s still a Paul & Jimmy’s Italian Restaurant in the immediate area; however, it is but a shadow of the original.

When HG/BSK lived (with famille) in their spacious rent controlled paradise on New York’s W. 79th Street, HG would escape from the Christmas holiday jingles and saccharine melodies by visiting a stronghold of traditional Jewishness: Paramount Dairy Restaurant on W. 72nd. The stroll on Broadway during the Upper West Side’s pre-gentrification days was always interesting. HG passed culinary landmarks like Daitch Dairy, Babka Bakery, Izmir Pizza, Gitlitz Delicatessen, Citarella Fish Monger. Fellow strollers included junkies, female sex workers, muggers, burglars, crazy ladies talking to themselves, sad eyed refugees from the Nazi terror; and, the usual crowd of West Side intellectuals, artists, writers and bohemians. On almost every block, HG would pause for a chat with a friend or acquaintance. Once in the Paramount, HG was seated at a table adorned with a huge bowl of breadstuffs — each the best of its kind: rye and pumpernickel bread, bialys, pletzels, challah. A dozen pats of unsalted butter. No Christmas decorations. No Chanukah decorations (not even a minor league menorah). Very refreshing. HG would order warm gefilte fish (a note to the uninitiated–this is a fresh water fish dumpling, a Jewish quenelle). This was served in a bowl of fish broth with a boiled potato and carrot. Accompanied by blazing horse radish. HG would dip thick slices of challah in the fish broth. Very comforting. This was followed by kasha varnishkes with mushroom gravy (HG recently wrote about this dish). Many cups of coffee and overindulgence in buttered bialys and pletzels. Refreshed and Judaized, HG was then ready for another onslaught of Bing Crosby and “Silent Night.”

The Russian Tea Room on New York’s W. 57th Street (next door to Carnegie Hall) celebrated Christmas every day. The owner, the delightful Sidney Kaye, decided he liked the way Christmas decorations enhanced the restaurant so they never came down. Red and green forever. It was just one of the restaurant’s eccentricities like the forgetful old female waitpersons (many had been ballerinas in pre-revolution Russia) and the ever changing hat check girls (Madonna was one). During the Christmas season it was HG/BSK’s dinner choice after a movie at one of the nearby art cinemas. Their meal was always the same: Eggplant Orientale (the RTR’s version of baba ghanoush). Karsky Shashlik (succulent lamb kebabs) with rice pilaf. Raspberry Kissel (a raspberry compote topped with whipped cream). A bottle of Pommard or Pomerol (affordable then). HG knocked off some chilled vodka with the eggplant and cognac with coffee. BSK was more abstemious. If the weather was very cold or appetites had a sharp edge, HG/BSK preceded the meal with bowls of steaming dark red borscht decorated with a dollop of sour cream and accompanied by flaky piroshki (meat filled pastries). As a special treat, HG/BSK would take their kids to RTR for a Christmas holiday brunch (with SJ decked out in one of RTR’s loaned — and invariably over-sized — sport jackets) of butter drenched blini with red caviar and sour cream. Gifted Daughter Lesley R. pays tribute to this memory every Christmas Eve by making superior blini which the family tops with red caviar or smoked fish. Not to be outdone,on Christmas Day morning SJ makes very superior potato latkes (a modest nod to Chanukah) which get similar delicious treatment. Holiday feasting at its best.