HUNGRY GERALD

The very best restaurant in the world during the Christmas holiday season was the long gone (opened in 1882 and closed in 1986) temple of German gastronomy, Luchow’s on New York’s East 14th Street. An interior of dark oak, smoked glass and crystal. Every inch was festooned with colorful decorations and pine wreaths. Noisy and jolly. A German oompah band playing the songs of the season. HG/BSK’s kids loved it and, restraining intense excitement, displayed excellent restaurant manners. The food? Ah, the food. For the kids there were grilled bratwurst with home fried potatoes. BSK usually had a starter of smoked salmon and a main of crisp skinned roast duck with red cabbage and a buttery potato puree. For HG there was a triple header: Rollmops (pickled herring rolled around dill pickle); pfefferlinge (ragout of wild mushrooms in a peppery sour cream sauce); schlemmerschnitte (steak tartare topped with abundant beluga caviar). For dessert: Baked Alaska flamed in brandy. (Once a waiter set his apron on fire while setting the desert alight and the tension before the flames were put out only added to the exhilaration of the dinner). The kids drank Shirley Temples. BSK had appropriate white and red wine. HG had (much, much) robust dark beer. Joy was unrestrained.

Pleasant dinner last night. Divided the cooking duties. HG fried potatoes and cooked bratwurst (simmered in beer for 15 minutes and then grilled to a brown crisp). BSK made sublime sauerkraut. Drained Bubbie’s kraut and cooked it with onions, apples, olive oil and a bit of chicken stock. Subtle, non-acidic flavors. So. Kraut and spuds were first rate. Brats were okay. Just okay. Plenty of pungent Polish mustard and Bubbie’s Bread and Butter pickles plus Shiner Bock Beer (“The Pride of Shiner, Texas”) helped the cause, but just barely. It made HG muse: “Where are the brats of yesteryear?” For years one could get inexpensive, succulent platters of brats-kraut-home fries in scores of German restaurants throughout the five boroughs of New York City. Luchow’s, Blue Ribbon, The Heidelberg and Volk’s were the leaders of the pack and HG quaffed much beer at these Teutonic shrines of hearty eating. Other than The Heidelberg (opened in 1936) they are all gone, alas. Of course New York, being New York, still offers authentic German Food — and the great Yorkville butcher Schaller & Weber sells some of the finest brats around — but the golden age of cheap and delicious NY German restaurants is over.

Some hearty dishes, traditional in New York City diners and “coffee shops” of HG’s youth, seem to have disappeared or exist so far from the pubic’s imagination, that they might as well have been taken off the menu. These include: Liver and onions plus bacon (with a side of French fries or mashed potatoes). Pot roast with a pool of dark brown gravy. Corned beef and cabbage (plus boiled potatoes). Boiled knockwurst with sauerkraut. Hot turkey sandwich (sliced turkey on white bread slathered with lots of giblet gravy plus a scoop of cranberry sauce). Hot roast beef sandwich (like turkey but with brown gravy, a side of mashed potatoes and pallid string beans). These were all cheap, filling dishes. Young HG, not a fastidious fresser, found them delicious.

Ompa Lomps. Yes, that’s what cute little HG called lamb chops when he was a wee, wee lad. Okay. No more cloying baby talk. HG loved lamb chops back then and still loves them. Best lamb chops in the world were served at the Coach House, Leon Lianides’s legendary restaurant in New York’s Greenwich Village. (The space is now occupied by Mario Batali’s Babbo). The Coach House chops were about two inches thick and incredibly juicy and succulent. Lianides said the secret of his great chops and racks of lamb was to cut away all of the fat. That’s what BSK does when pan broiling delicious little chops from Trader Joe’s. TJ’s chops are from the Atkins Ranch in faraway New Zealand. The logistics of getting them from that distant land to HG’s knife and fork boggles the mind. Last night, BSK broiled last of the season heirloom tomatoes. Grilled tiny Japanese eggplants. Boiled fingerling potatoes. HG mixed Greek yogurt with lots of crushed garlic, some olive oil and a dash of Spanish smoked paprika. (Love to dip potatoes in that mix). All splendid accompaniments to the pink chops. And, where there is lamb there is fruit forward California cabernet sauvignon. Happy dining indeed.

Last week HG/BSK celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary with an extraordinary party and meal at New York’s Dim Sum a Go Go. The celebratory feasting did not end there but continued the next day at a Sunday Brunch generously provided by Restaurateur Daughter Victoria F. at her beautiful Hundred Acres restaurant in Soho. Here’s the menu (read it slowly and let your mouth water and your complexion turn green with envy): Appetizers: (1) ricotta fritters with Hudson Valley honey and powdered sugar. (2) grilled flatbread dressed with arctic char “lox”, whipped cream cheese, dill and pickled onions. Entrees: (1) buttermilk pancakes with New York blueberries and vanilla whipped cream. (2) soft scrambled eggs with summer squash, spring onions, chives, gruyere cheese, sour cream and corn bread. (3) goat cheese-sage bread pudding with poached eggs, wilted spinach and lemon butter. Sides: fruitwood smoked bacon, jalapeno grits. Drinks: Hundred Acres punch (Prosecco, Aperol and freshly squeezed juices) and coffee. It all tasted even better — if that is possible — than it sounds. That night HG/BSK joined SJ at Full House, a little known, superb Chinese restaurant on Bowery a touch North of Hester. Soup dumplings. Scallion pancakes. Minced flounder with tiny, tender bok choy and crab roe; sliced fish with wood mushrooms; braised eggplant. Wine, beer, chilled sake. Sesame balls for dessert. Light, creative cooking. Attentive service. Happily, the place seems undiscovered by food writers and critics unlike Hundred Acres where the crowds keep filing in for the best brunch HG has ever had.

HG/BSK are blessed. Nearly a week has passed and they are still basking in the warmth of the wonderful 50th anniversary festivities arranged by HG/BSK’s children in New York City. Although the visit was short, HG would like to share some New York impressions: New York seems more diverse than ever as its Asian, Mexican and Central American populations have boomed. Great style on the streets. Lower Manhattan’s Chinatown (where HG/BSK spent most of their time this three-day trip) still boils with energy and a unique entrepreneurial spirit. Every inch of sidewalk is occupied by somebody selling arcane vegetables, fruit or seafood to a critical and knowing public. The wide range of sea creatures for sale in the local markets is extraordinary. Yes, the Chinatowns in Flushing and Sunset Park have seized dining leadership but there’s still some great food in Manhattan’s Chinatown (Full House, Big Wong, Dim Sum a Go Go, Bo Ky, etc.). Incidentally, Elizabeth Street between Grand and Hester, is filled with salons offering very good, cheap haircuts. HG recommends Tease, where the old guy was beautified for a modest price. Judging by the early dining crowds at Hundred Acres and other Soho eateries, weekend brunch seems to be a New York obsession. Whizzing by in a taxi, HG was astonished by glimpses of the Williamsburg section of Brooklyn, world capital of culinary coolness. The once dingy locale has exploded with tall apartment towers of glass and steel, many jammed against the traffic roaring, fume spewing highway. HG, who lives in quiet and pure air in New Mexico and Prince Edward Island, takes a dim view. Oh well, different strokes.

Arrived at LaGuardia Airport following the usual flight delays and discomforts. Friday night traffic in New York was a mad maze and HG/BSK were mighty hungry after checking in at the Hanbee Bowery Hotel in Chinatown. SJ provided the remedy. A block from the hotel was Ninh Kieu, a wildly eccentric Vietnamese restaurant with steaming bowls of beef pho, crispy spring rolls, stir fried water spinach and thin squares of pork grilled with lemongrass. Next morning HG/BSK met Vancouver pals Jamie and Karen, plus HG’s Restaurateur Daughter Victoria at Big Wong King, a traditional Cantonese restaurant on Mott Street. Grim decor. Abrupt service. Super busy (with good reason). This is real Chinatown. Fresh, flavorful cheap food. The group had two types of congee — pork and fish. No stinting on the ingredients. Just the best congee ever. Spicy Mo Pu Tofu and exquisitely cooked firm slices of eggplant in garlic sauce. Crispy Chinese crullers accompanied the congee. Rice crepes and tea. A happy meal for next to nothing. Tonight is the 50th Wedding Anniversary Party for HG and BSK. Dim Sum A Go Go is the venue. Some 50 years ago, HG and BSK’s first date was in Chinatown. So, the non-stop Chinatown fressing brings back many joyous, tasty and sentimental memories.

The changing fashions in food have long fascinated HG. For example, beets, once despised, have become not just chic, but ubiquitous — you can hardly find a menu that doesn’t include some form of a beet and goat cheese salad. HG has always found a beet (like vinegar) to be an enemy of wine. Nevertheless, in Paris the top bistros du vins have betteraves on their cartes. Raw fish was only found at Japanese sushi bars. Suddenly, raw tuna and chopped tartares of tuna and salmon became featured players. Even Italian restaurants (possibly influenced by the massive success of Esca and David Pasternack) have crudos among their appetizers. For a time, steak was dismissed as a boorish, unhealthy and unfashionable food. There was a reaction and carnivores rejoiced as more than a score of upscale steak houses opened in New York. “Small plates” have become fashionable. Is there sticker shock when hearty appetites do some big time grazing on these “small” plates with big time prices? Foam, sous vide, molecular are among the gastronomic buzz words of the past decade. HG, a conservative, is skeptical about these arcane techniques. Restaurants used to take pride in offering imported food from faraway places. Now, the very best chefs (like Marc Meyer of New York’s Cookshop, Hundred Acres and Five Points) are determinedly “locavore,” a trend HG endorses with enthusiasm.

BEET FOAM

HG is depressed. While HG has spent his Summer knee deep in the bounty of Prince Edward Island’s generous seas and farms — mountains of oysters, sweet mussels, screamingly fresh fish, gorgeous vegetables and tiny, new potatoes — he has been deprived of one of his favorite treats: classic New York City pizza. So imagine HG’s distress when SJ informed HG that he had discovered one of NYC’s best pizzas at Rizzo’s on Clinton Street in the Lower East Side. According to SJ, Rizzo’s started (and the original location remains) in Queens where it is a neighborhood favorite having served generations of pizza lovers since 1959. At the new location, SJ spoke of a homey, un-pretensious vibe completely welcome in a neighborhood whose restaurants often over-reach in an attempt to appear hip. And, the pizzas? SJ reports a classic Margherita with top-quality mozzarella bubbling on top of a beautiful charred crust; the “Mafioso” on a thicker, square crust with sausage, roasted pepper, black and green olive, caper, sauce and cheese. Great beer selections. Charming wait staff. Curses upon SJ for romping in such fine pizza environs without HG! Well, there’s a silver cloud. September is coming and HG will make an appointment to go to Rizzo’s and all resentment will melt away. So, HG may as well cheer up and revel in the joy of a dozen Colville Bay oysters.

Dogs. These wonderful animals and their odd food habits have beguiled HG for many years. Some fifty years ago, HG had his first pet, a standard poodle named “Peaches.” (No pets for HG during the Great Depression. They were an avoidable luxury). Peaches ate everything in sight. He was naughty. He devoured a scrumptious whipped cream cake baked by HG/BSK’s Swedish au pair. HG had to chase the canine scoundrel to retrieve dinner after he plucked a sirloin from the barbecue. His toilet habits were deplorable. Nevertheless, Peaches was much loved. Peaches was followed by “Sassafrass,” a sweet Golden Lab. Sassy always ate his dinner with good appetite, glanced around, and then ate the dinner of our excellent blue-eyed cat, Starlight. Starry forgave him and they remained civilized companions. In Colorado, the HG/BSK dog was “Bobo”, a 150-pound Newfoundland. A gentle, intelligent giant. Bobo’s black coat shone because he ate so much olive oil-infused left over pasta. Bobo also loved stale baguettes. He would have a few nibbles and then bury the loaves. Archaeologists of the future will be confronted with this puzzle. Today, HG spent hours with “Pippi”, the delightful dog who is the ornament of Gifted Daughter Lesley/Profesore Massimo R.’s family. Pippi is a charming girl, part Cavalier King Charles, part poodle. A delightful, sensitive responsive companion. Pippi and HG shared a delicious pasta fritatta prepared by Lesley R.. Pippi licked HG’s fingers in appreciation. The little lady is a fan of good Italian cooking.