HUNGRY GERALD

HG does not recall eating peanut butter in HG’s youthful days in The Bronx with his late mother and father. Peanut butter was unknown in Mom’s “shtetl”, Plestyanitz, Belarus; the same goes for Pop’s “shtetl” in Smulovitch, Belarus. In The Bronx, Mom’s cooking was Eastern European Jewish with an emphasis on chicken fat. Her borscht, brisket, stuffed cabbage, blintzes, potato latkes, noodle kugel, chopped liver, cold sorrel soup (“schav”)and rugelach, provide HG with happy memories. There were no peanut butter encounters until HG married BSK, the Canadian love of HG’s life. HG’s first taste of a slice of Zito’s bread (long closed Greenwich Village bakery) spread with peanut butter and topped with strawberry jam, was a revelation. These days HG/BSK use peanut butter in a variety of ways. It’s the main ingredient for a fiery version of dan dan noodles. HG uses it in a Thai dipping sauce for grilled chicken or pork. When in a hurry, BSK lunches on slices of apple spread with peanut butter. BSK touts the sandwich of BSK’s youth: Peanut butter, lettuce, and mayonnaise. HG sneers at this concoction. The greedy fellow likes to finish a meal with glasses of red wine and Keebler’s Club crackers spread with chunky peanut butter and Prince Edward Island strawberry/rhubarb jam. The French would be shocked.

HG grew up during the bleak days of The Great Depression. America was a very anti-Jewish place. Father Coughlin, “The Radio Priest”, spewed hatred on the airwaves to a large audience and his newspaper, “Social Justice”, was sold in front of Catholic churches and major thoroughfares in The Bronx. Banks and other financial institutions (as well as most corporate giants) did not hire Jews. Elite colleges and all USA medical schools had strict quotas regulating the admission of Jews. Most suburbs had restrictive covenants and many hotels, country clubs and resorts advertised “Restricted Clientele.” The Nazi German-American Bund was active in New York and New Jersey and filled Madison Square Garden for its swastika bedecked rallies. Labeled “Christ killer,’ young HG survived many violent encounters. (HG recalls Lenny Bruce’s 1950’s comment about the Christ killing charge: “No, it wasn’t me, It was my cousin, Milton.”). However, there were some bright icons in those days. FDR, of course. New York Mayor Fiorello LaGuardia (“The Little Flower”); Shirley Temple, the child star worshiped by HG (HG still has the blue pitcher sporting Shirley’s face that was HG’s hot cocoa glass. HG believed that little Lesley, HG/BSK’s daughter, was the reincarnation of the curly-topped Shirley); Canada’s Dionne Quintuplets (Louise Penny, the Canadian mystery writer, uses a fictionalized version of the Quints in her novel, “How The Light Gets In”). The brave Americans of the Abraham Lincoln Brigade who fought Franco’s Fascists in the Spanish Civil War. (Many years later, Sam W., a veteran of the Brigade, was a journalist colleague of HG’s. Sam had remained an ardent and outspoken Leftist, a dangerous position in those days dominated by Senator Joe McCarthy); Joe Louis, the great heavyweight boxing champion (and later a client of publicist HG). This post is being written on June 22, 2019, the 81st anniversary of Joe’s first-round kayo of Max Schmeling, a German, a Nazi and a favorite of Adolf Hitler. The fight at a filled Yankee Stadium lasted 134 seconds of the first round. If not stopped, Joe might have killed him. It was that brutal. Like all of New York, nine-year-old HG listened on the radio. It was more than a fight. It was Democracy vs. Nazism. A Black Champion vs. Racism. Celebrations were madly joyous, especially in Harlem. The fight also ended the Depression as American industry began gearing up for World War Two. That war changed many things. But, racism and anti-semitism still thrive.

As you readers may have ascertained, HG is not perfect. Close. But, not there yet (and time is running out). Perfection eludes because of a major character flaw: Impatience. Yes, it is impatience that makes HG an inferior cook (except for fried fish which only take a few minutes to cook). Impatience makes HG incompetent at solving puzzles, playing games, making even the most modest household repairs. In general, HG wants a hasty conclusion without the tedium of learning how to reach that conclusion. What causes this impatience? Growing up in a noisy, crowded Depression and wartime era New York? Working as a wire service journalist where a moment’s delay meant losing to a competitor? Don’t know. HG’s most maddening display of impatience comes when talking with others. Impatient HG has a tendency to interrupt BSK and finish BSK’s sentences. Makes BSK furious. “Can I finish a sentence, please?”, BSK implores. As the boss of a New York/New Jersey public relations firm, HG would often interrupt colleagues by shouting “Wait!! Wait!! Wait!!.” HG’s brilliant young protege, Bruce Maguire, once did a perfect imitation of HG at an office celebratory dinner. HG was in mid-sentence when Bruce bellowed “Wait!! Wait!! Wait!!.” Laughter followed. No longer a youngster, Bruce has far surpassed HG in his public relations career. Happily, Bruce and the enchanting Theresa T., will be visiting HG/BSK at their Prince Edward Island home this summer. They should arrive in a few weeks. HG can hardly wait!! wait!! wait!!

HG/BSK, during HG/BSK’s New York years, relished four landmark historic restaurant interiors. Luchow’s (long closed). Brooklyn’s Gage & Tollner’s (long closed). Plaza Hotel’s Oak Room restaurant and bar (closed except for special events). And, Keens Chop House. Still open with beautiful interior unchanged. Walls and ceiling filled with Church Warden pipes. Traditional painting of nude woman over the bar. Soft, flattering lighting. So, HG/BSK lunched at Keens with SJ and HG daughter Victoria before boarding a train for Providence. Started with a cold platter of oysters, clams, shrimp and lobster. All perfect. Drank sparkling Prosecco. Vicki had a big dish of grilled vegetables. BSK’s choice was a steak salad. SJ and HG shared the signature mutton chop with mashed potatoes and creamed spinach. (crock of fiery English mustard as a condiment). HG drank some good cabernet sauvignon. Lovely New York meal. As a grace note, one of the Keens’ managers, picked up the wine tab. It was a nod to the birthday lady. His daughter works at Shuka, Vicki and husband Marc’s Soho middle eastern restaurant. If HG remains mobile, the hungry fellow will want to return to Keens one day for English cut roast prime rib (a BSK fave).

HG’s daughter Victoria continued to generously captivate our palates. The Shuka graduation celebration dinner was an extravaganza. Not only was the food stupendous (thanks, chef Ayesha) but Vicki brought SJ from Tokyo. Happy, happy surprise. The next night Was Vicki’s fabulous birthday banquet at Wu’s Wonton King on East Broadway. Vicki’s family, friends and business colleagues (30 in all) gathered around three round tables and, curated by Vicki and husband, Marc, had one of the great Chinese banquets of all time. The parade dish was an enormous snow crab. It was displayed live before being steamed and crisply fried with juicy, full-of-flavor crab meat tucked away in the shells. HG usually finds snow crab tasteless. Not this big boy. Lush. More seafood followed. Tender, crisp fried squid and large prawns. Steamed flounder in a rice wine and garlic sauce. Baby shrimp with softly scrambled eggs. Wonderful wok sauteed chicken. Eggplant. String beans. Chinese greens and broccoli. Meal ended with noodles (to ensure longevity). Much superior white wine and cold beer was drunk. Happiness reigned. (HG probably didn’t mention all the dishes served. HG was so busy eating, aided by Marc, that HG couldn’t take notes). Wu’s exterior is bleak. But, the inside is bright and cheery. Service is impeccable. Thanks, Vicki and Marc, for introducing us to the wonders of Wu’s.

It was a magical moment. Startling. Graduation celebration party was at Shuka, the extraordinary middle eastern restaurant in New York’s Soho. Shuka is part of the mini-dining empire of HG’s daughter, Victoria and her husband, Marc, the farm-to-table pioneer and celebrated chef. After warm greetings from Victoria, a stylish gentleman with a short white beard and fashionable greying hair strolled in. That can’t be HG/BSK’s son, Sj. He’s in Tokyo. But, yes, it is SJ. In person. Joy overflowed. Victoria decided that family celebration and her 60th Birthday party (the next night) would not be complete without SJ. So, with her abundant generosity, she arranged and paid for it all in deep secrecy. Yes, Vicki is incomparable. And, so was the feast. Mezze: Crisp chickpeas. Spiced olives. Dates. Marinated Kohlrabi. Tarasalmata. Small plates and vegetables: Crispy cauliflower. Zaatar fried potatoes. Roasted carrots, Asparagus.. Beets. Salads. Dips: Whipped feta with pistachios.. Hummus. Fried Halloumi (fried cheese balls). And, then kebabs galore. Shrimp. Chicken. Steak. Lamb. Swordfish. For HG, the lushest accompaniment was Labne, the thick yogurt made every morning by Shuka’s wonder chef, Ayesha. Gracious Ayesha, whose very presence is nourishing, came to the table for much-merited applause. Lesley and Massimo had arranged that they would pay for the meal. Not on the cuff. But, as usual, Vicki wouldn’t accept payment. Massimo was allowed to leave a tip. The food was celestial. SJ’s merry presence was life-enhancing. Thanks, Vicki. And, Ayesha.

May 20th was graduation day. Perfect weather. Sunny. Slight breeze. The ceremonies and the crowd of happy parents, siblings, friends, alumni, etc. were handled graciously and efficiently. Columbia knows how to to do things right. HG was placed in a comfortable wheelchair and a pleasant member of the Columbia grounds staff wheeled HG to HG’s seat. BSK; Lesley, Massimo and Arianna R. all looked stylish. A student band played rousing Dixieland to usher the grads to their section. Sofia R.looked smashing in her sky blue cap and gown (Columbia colors). Speeches were short and eloquent. Sofia’s family cheered as Sofia received her diploma and it was announced that she was graduating with honors—Summa Cam Laude and Phi Beta Kappa. Walked to a pizza brunch at Marlowe’s on Broadway. Toasted the grad with chilled Provencal rose. In the evening, the group dined at Ahwadh, a very good Indian restaurant on Broadway. The group of eight (Sofia’s boyfriend, and her longtime Rhody pal and neighbor, Kristen) joined us. Appetites were ferocious. Vegetarian dishes: Eggplant. Okra. Lentil dal. Spinach with paneer (indian cheese). Breads: Onion kulcha, Papadums: Meats and chicken: A lusty variety of goat, lamb and chicken. Some were stewed. Some were grilled. All delicious. Drank chilled rose and Taj Mahal beer. Mint and fiery chili condiments. Plus more than a dozen dishes that HG hasn’t mentioned. Many things were cooked Murgh style which means long simmering in special pots. Produced savory results.

Arrived in New York for graduation festivities. Arianna R., HG/BSK’s beautiful and brainy granddaughter received her MBA a week earlier in Providence. Equally brainy and beautiful granddaughter, Sofia, was slated to get her BA from Columbia (Summa Cum Laude and Phi Beta Kappa) in graduation ceremonies on Monday. Longtime pals, Peter and Susan H., made their spacious Riverside Drive available for the Freeman and R. family (P. and H. were away visiting their daughter, her husband, and a new baby). A very gracious and generous act (typical of P. and S.). Sofia was off to Zabar’s, the long time West Side culinary institution. Came back with an overwhelming feast of Jewish delicacies. Nova Scotia smoked salmon. Sable (best ever). Whitefish salad. Scallion cream cheese. Potato salad. Coleslaw. Pickles. Olives. Onions. Capers. Corned beef. Pastrami. Zabar’s mustard. Bialys. Traditional Jewish rye bread. A meal full of joy and memories as the feast and the H. apartment evoked HG/BSK’s days on the West Side some 47 years ago.

HG was five years old, living with his parents in a fourth floor (no elevator) apartment in the southeast Bronx. It was minutes from the Bronx Zoo and HG slept with the soothing sounds of roaring lions in the background. City boy HG saw lions, elephants and tigers long before HG saw a cow. Horses were familiar. Manned by Italians, they hauled vegetable and ice wagons. (Refrigerators came later and were advertised as a luxury). With a few pennies in his pocket, HG would race down to the street to join his small pals in fun and games. Favorite street food treat was a “mickey.” This was a potato (stolen from a greengrocer stand) and roasted in a wood fire in an empty building lot. Pennies bought other cold weather good things. An old, bearded Jew wheeled a cart and yelled “Hayseh ahrbis !!.” He sold hot garbanzo beans bathed in chicken fat and dusted with kosher salt. A penny bought an overflowing cup and a toothpick Another cart sold sweet potatoes with a pat of butter melting inside. The eating utensil was a tiny wooden paddle. Cost: Two or three cents. Warm weather was the season for Italians and their carts. They sold cups of ices and slices of coconut. The weather turned cold in New Mexico yesterday. Alert to the weather, BSK baked some lush sweet potatoes. As good as yesteryear.

Teenage HG traveled from The Bronx to Brooklyn by subway for HG’s Saturday night date with his first girlfriend, the lovely Joan Z. (Subway cost five cents and HG had a book to ease the long trip). HG always wore a jacket with a shirt and tie. Joan would be in high heels and a dress. No jeans in those days. One dressed in style. Off to a movie. Much canoodling in the darkness. Then, post entertainment dinner in a Chinese restaurant. Egg drop soup or won ton soup. Shrimp chow mein or pork chop suey. Almond cookie or vanilla ice cream for dessert. Many cups of tea. Total cost of date: $1.85. Itemized: Ten cents for subway round trip; Fifty cents for the movie ( tickets were 25 cents each); Chinese dinners were 50 cents each with a quarter tip for the waiter. Fervent intimacies with Joan. Priceless.