HUNGRY GERALD

A few decades ago, HG/BSK and HG’s late sister and brother-in-law, Beulah and Daniel K., were seated in Le Vaudeville (Then very good. Now downhill.), the beautiful art deco brasserie opposite the Paris Bourse (stock exchange). Following some glorious appetizers (oysters for HG/BSK and Baltic pickled herring with warm potato salad for other duo), HG sipped chilled Muscadet and examined the carte. Saumon a l’ oseille was featured. This was grilled salmon with sorrel sauce, a dish made famous by chefs Pierre and Jean Troigrois at the brothers’ Michelin three-star restaurant in Roanne. Everyone at the HG table ordered it and it was a revelation. Salmon and sorrel were meant for each other. The slightly bitter and herbaceous sauce seemed the proper counterpoint for the rich (cooked semi rare) salmon filet. Sorrel is a rarity in American food markets. Here on Prince Edward Island, BSK cultivates a big crop of sorrel in the BSK herb garden. That means abundant sorrel soup and sorrel sauce. Salmon, of course, is the problem. Wild salmon has become ridiculously expensive and farm raised salmon is pumped full of artificial coloring, flaccid and tasteless. (HG/BSK are spoiled by their years in Vancouver where wild salmon is always available, inexpensive and delicious). The salmon HG/BSK purchase at By the Bay Fish Mart in St. Peters is farm raised in Nova Scotia in an apparently natural environment. Not as good as the wild but still tasty. HG/BSK grilled a big slab for dinner last night. BSK made sorrel sauce (sorrel, shallots, chicken broth, butter, egg yolks). Sublime. There were other good things on the table. Grilled asparagus. Fresh sweet corn (in season at last). Little potatoes dug from the Noel and Yossi M. garden earlier in the day. EM styled crisp fried pork bellies and mushroom caps smothered with chopped scallions and herbs. Another spectacular PEI dinner.

When you are on Prince Edward Island you are rarely far from excellent fried fish, French fried potatoes or crisp, deep fried onion rings. Rick’s Fish & Chips in St, Peters is (HG kids) the three star Michelin choice for these goodies. But, fear not, one can find worthy competitors all over the Island. There’s Wicked Fries, a food truck that appeared this year in Morrell, which has “awesome” fries (according to grandson Handsome Haru) and a fairly remarkable burger sourced from local PEI beef (according to SJ). There’s another truck in Montague Harbor where HG/BSK have had exemplary fried fish sandwiches with French fries and house made tartar sauce. There’s another French fry food truck in Charlottetown that lurks near a complex of big box retailers. Always busy so they must be doing something right. HG/BSK live nine months of the year in New Mexico where tacos and burritos are rarely out of reach. You can grab them from food trucks, garner them from drive ins or eat them in restaurants. They are good, better or sublime. If they are inferior the purveyor is rapidly out of business. In Paris, there seems to be a crepe stand outside of every Metro station. These are not favored by HG who prefers the superb galettes or crepes at creperies like Breizh Cafe in the Marais neighborhood. In Vancouver, B.C., where HG/BSK lived (part time) for ten years, there were score of sushi joints. Every bench in the numerous parks or on busy avenues seemed to be occupied by beautiful young women eating sushi and chatting gaily with their friends. Philadelphia, which has always seemed to HG to be a highly eccentric city, is dominated by the soft pretzel. This doughy, heavily salted baked good (or bad) is heavily dosed in mustard and enjoyed by the multitudes. Go figure.

There are two things Americans never order in Paris bistros: Andouillette (chitterling sausage) and tete de veau (boiled calf or veal head). Andouiellette is a horror, HG agrees. It is a sausage that smells like a bad toilet. Wikipedia explains: “The aroma is due to the pig’s colon utilized in the sausage which incorporates some of the same compounds that contribute to the odours of excremement.” Bluntly: It smells like shit. (French gourmands have told HG that the sausage is a robust, earthy treat. Nevertheless…). On the other hand, tete de veau, which offers copious amounts of cheeck, tongue, brains and other bits, is a treat. It is usually served with Sauce Gribiche (an HG favorite). This is a vibrant sauce composed of hard boiled eggs, mustard, olive oil, vinegar, capers, cornichons and herbs. HG always requests the amount of Gribiche be doubled. David Lebovitz (food blogger —David Lebovitz: Living the Sweet Life in Paris — and Author of the book: The Sweet Life In Paris) did a nice post on Gribiche entitled “Sauce Gribiche, Au Pif”. The phrase means “by the nose”. In the post a French friend tells David to make Gribiche “au pif”. That is, trust your instincts and individual taste in making the sauce. That’s what HG did last night when HG prepared a copious amount of Gribiche. It was served over lightly poached cod. Brought the fish to heavenly heights. On the plate were little PEI potatoes drenched in olive oil, Maldon sea salt and chopped herbs. BSK gilded the lily by doing BSK’s signature Asian sauté of bok choy and snow pea pods with garlic, ginger, sesame oil and Vietnamese fish sauce. A sumptuous meal.

For more than a year, HG has been suffering (not quietly) from mussels deprivation. This past June, upon arriving at HG/BSK’s oceanfront summer home on Prince Edward Island, HG received some dread news: The Mussels Interpretive Center in the town of St. Peter’s had closed. Besides housing a mussels mini-museum, the center offered dining under the creative command of masterly Andrew MacDonald. On offer was the world’s best mussel stew, steamed mussels with melted butter and South Lake oysters on the half shell. A saddened HG repaired to the By the Bay Fish Mart for a bag of mussels to prepare at home. Unfortunately, the knowledgeable proprietor told HG the mussels were below par this past season. She was right. Upon returning to New Mexico, HG gave the PEI mussels at Whole Foods a try. Maybe autumn weather had improved the mollusks. No luck. HG was left with memories. Best mussels ever were served in a Sicilian restaurant (Vincent’s ?) in gritty Harrison, N.J., more than three decades ago. HG/BSK and hungry pals would eat a tub of steamed mussels accompanied by crisp fried zucchini and good bread to sop up briny juices. These were big, plump mussels filled with juice and flavor. HG once asked where these mussels were found. Got a one word answer: “Joisey.” In Denver, HG enjoyed the “finger burning” mussels at Mel’s Restaurant (long closed). These were inspired by the mussels served at La Cagouille Restaurant in Paris. A very simple dish. Mussels were grilled on a cast iron plancha until they opened. Risking burnt fingers, these juicy morsels were dipped in melted lemon butter. HG had a happy Paris memory of the stuffed mussels at Pied de Cochon in Les Halles. HG’s mussels deprivation ended last night. HG had been suffering from a stomach ailment for three days. Deprived him of appetite. Appetite returned. Resourceful BSK found some great PEI mussels at Whole Foods (asked the sales clerk to find a freshly arrived bag in the rear). Steamed with onions, garlic, Italian parsley, clam broth and white wine, some five pounds were served over linguine. Joy.

Got a very nice comment today from Rev. DeForest Soaries concerning a recent HG post. Rev. Soaries (known to HG/BSK by his nickname, “Buster”) was a dear friend of HG/BSK’s when the duo lived in Montclair, N.J., some 30 years ago. Buster was the pastor of a small church and a very eloquent activist on behalf of Montclair’s African-American community. Buster and HG/BSK fought many political battles side by side. Won some. Lost some. Always had an exciting time. Since that time Buster has fashioned a very distinguished career in religion, housing, education, government and politics, not the least being the former Secretary of State of New Jersey. HG is sure he has lost none of his fire. In Montclair, HG/BSK lived in a turn of the century mansion. Beautiful gardens. Big swimming pool. Quite classy. Buster would sometimes bring a group of his young parishioners to visit to shed some perspective on race relations, class relations and aspirational hopes. Once, Buster and a group arrived when HG/BSK had just finished preparing a steaming pot of Soupe de Poisson. This is the Provencal fish soup that involves fish, onions, fennel, tomatoes, saffron, Pernod and other good things. Boiled. Simmered. Pureed, It is served with slices of toasted baguette slathered with a mayonnaise whipped with garlic and a load of the hottest hot sauce available. (An excellent Soupe de Poisson can be found at Brasserie Stella in Paris, one of HG’s favorite restaurants). BSK dished out some Soupe for Buster and his friends. The reaction was extremely negative — while HG’s lifestyle seemed quite ideal, Buster’s young parishioners found HG’s food to be quite the opposite. Tonight, as winter descends on New Mexico, BSK is preparing her version of seafood (cod, clams, scallops) in Spanish green sauce. One of the unusual flavoring elements in this dish is the juice from a can of asparagus. Not the asparagus. Just the juice. Sounds odd but trust HG. It works. Wish Buster could be with us to share this food.

At some good Paris restaurants and bistros there’s a nice beau geste at the end of a meal: A little tray of bon bons and chocolates served with coffee or a liqueur. James Salter, that excellent writer who constructs sentences as exquisitely balanced as a crystal glass of Chateau Margaux, notes in his book “Life Is Meals” that he and his wife often serve sweets at the end of a dinner party. The discerning Salters favor Enstrom’s Butter Crunch (manufactured in Grand Junction, CO.). They state unequivocally (and HG agrees) that this is the best candy in the world. When HG/BSK are out of this delectable they serve dark chocolate and Belgian Butter Cookies. Excellent peanut brittle also delights guests. The nutty goody was discovered at the Latino-centric Pojoauque Super Market, a short drive from the HG/BSK New Mexico home.

There’s been a long tradition of New York department stores containing some fairly beloved restaurants. The intent, obviously, is to keep the customer in the store and keep her shopping (the gender specific “her” is probably an out-dated notion, but NY’s department stores were initially created for and catered to an almost exclusively female audience). Tea sandwiches, salads and exuberant desserts were featured. Gourmands sneered at these dainties but during HG’s days in New York, HG often lunched in department stores. HG’s favorite was Lord & Taylor. The store broke with tradition by operating a soup bar. A very large African-American man wearing a chef’s toque ladled soups from a big kettle. The soup was served with Ritz crackers and was a cold weather treat. Dignified B. Altman (long gone) on 34th and Fifth was famed for ladies’ intimate apparel and high quality furniture. The restaurant was classy. The hands down favorite of fashionable women was Bergdorf Goodman with restaurants in the basement and on a high floor (spectacular Central Park views). Alex Witchel of The New York Times did a charming story (in 2013) about lunching there with writer Patricia Volk. Paris, of course, has the best department store restaurants. Bon Marche’s are the height of chic but for variety nothing tops Galeries Lafayette. There’s a dim sum restaurant, an oyster and fish eatery, Italian restaurant, Spanish counter with the best Serrano ham. There’s pizza, tapas, paella, Indian tandoori..and more.. (HG’s pal, journalist/wine expert/author Peter Hellman did a nice article on Paris department store dining for The New York Times some years ago). In addition to dining, Bon Marche and Galeries Lafayette have stupendous food and wine departments. Bon Marche’s, the Epicerie, is epic. HG/BSK have many happy memories of smoked salmon, country pate, jambon persille, countless varieties of perfectly ripened cheese and savory charcuterie. The makings of exuberant dinners with wine and fresh baguettes in HG/BSK’s rented Paris apartments. Of course, the glories of Paris department store dining and food halls (including the splendid one at London’s Harrod’s) dwindle when compared to the limitless cornucopia of delicacies offered at KaDeWe, the Berlin department store (largest in Europe). There are two vast floors of food plus a rooftop cafeteria. HG/BSK plan to be there sometime in the future and indulge in oysters and champagne plus many other good things from every part of the world.

Mark Bittman, the seemingly omnipresent food writer, did a recent op-ed piece in The New York Times bewailing the state of restaurants in France and their reliance on food “cooked at a faraway factory.” He is quite harsh in his opinions concerning Paris restaurants (he has to research and eat at three in order to find one good one). Bittman exaggerates (slightly). Sure, there are bad restaurants in France (as in every country) where owners pay more attention to profit than dining pleasure. And, sure, Paris is no longer the dining capital of the world. New York has taken over that spot. In addition to world class dining experiences like Per Se, Bernardin, etc., mighty Noo Yawk has an almost limitless array of interesting ethnic restaurants ranging from the entire spectrum of Korean and Chinese restaurants in Flushing to Ghana taxi driver food on the Grand Concourse in The Bronx to Uzbekistan eateries in Rego Park. And, if you want to recapture the golden age of French cuisine replete with lush flowers, deft service and classic dishes, one can turn back the clock and empty one’s wallet at La Grenouille on Manhattan’s posh upper East side. And, then there’s Brooklyn with its astounding metamorphosis into the world’s center of hipness with a multitude of food experiences to match its style. But, Paris, though no longer the ultimate gourmand destination, still has much to offer. Super baguettes and Poilane bread. Very good oysters (and guys who know how to shuck them). The best cheese and butter (Bordier). Wine shops stocked with splendid affordable vintages. Cafes, for the most part, offer mediocre food but world class viewing of stylish women (of all ages, thankfully). Bittman has a point. It’s not easy to find restaurants where fresh food is prepared on the premises. HG’s advice: Consult Alec Lobrano’s Hungry for Paris guide and John Talbott’s website. In Paris, HG spends much time at museums and cinemas. When it comes to food, HG is downscale. Favorite hangout is the back room of La Cave des Abbesses, a Montmartre neighborhood wine shop. In this very bare bones place, HG likes to linger over a platter of cheese with a carafe of red wine. In season, there are oysters for one Euro a piece. HG manages to get down a dozen with ease. La Cave is a nice place to visit after listening to the street musicians (usually quite talented) on the Place des Abbesses. HG also likes the gritty Arab/African neighborhood of Montmartre for couscous and other Maghreb specialties. Jour et Nuit is a good place for a hearty meal with the locals. Big flavors. Tiny prices.

Was it Lucius Beebe (or Oscar Wilde) who said (and HG paraphrases): “My tastes are simple. I like only the very best.” ? HG agrees (in part). HG deplores over elaborate, over sauced, fussed over food. Through the years HG dined at many temples of high cuisine (Le Pavillon, Lutece, La Cote Basque, Le Bernardin in New York; Connaught Restaurant and Savoy Grill in London; the once glorious Laperouse in Paris). Even in these vaunted places, HG ordered simple dishes (mixed grill at the Connaught; grilled sole at the Savoy and roast duck with turnips at Pavillon). HG may be accused of favoritism and family pride, but HG’s ideal of dining is Cookshop, the restaurant run by HG’s daughter, Victoria Freeman,and her husband, chef Marc Meyer. It is located on Tenth Avenue in New York’s Chelsea neighborhood and is always filled with a lively, good looking crowd. The restaurant has been in the forefront of the farm-to-table, locavore movement. Meyer treats his superior ingredients with restraint and imagination. A tip from HG. Settle down with a glass of chilled rose (from Slovenia, surprisingly). Have some radishes with herbed butter and sea salt. Follow with roasted asparagus (sauce gribiche). Then, share a Hudson Valley Chicken Breast Salad. This is not the usual mayonnaise-drenched mess. The menu describes it this way: “Chicken, arugula, cucumbers, sliced carrots, radish, spiced walnut, golden raisin, sherry vinaigrette.” Crunchy with summery flavors and hints of salt and sweetness. HG shrugs off charges of nepotism. Can one imagine a better summer lunch? (An afterthought: Alexander Lobrano, the Paris-based food writer for the New York Times and many other publications and the author of the best guide to Paris dining, Hungry For Paris, dined at Cookshop while visiting New York. He expressed a wish that Paris should have more restaurants like Cookshop).

NY Times Travel section had a nice piece by Ann Mah about eating French regional specialties in the places where they originated. Like Mah, HG has found the Paris versions pallid. For the real stuff, Mah traveled to Lyon for Quenelle de Brochet; to Alsace for Choucroute Garnie; to Cassis on Provence’s Mediterranean coast for Bouillabaisse; to Brittany for Galettes and Crepes; to Languedoc, Roussilon and Midi-Pyrenees for Cassoulet. The writer devoured a lot of mouth watering stuff on her countrywide jaunt. HG has never found the need to run all over France for these specialties. BSK makes a very lush Choucroute using Bubbie’s sauerkraut (stewed with the BSK mixture of onions, apples and caraway seeds) and adorned with Schaller & Weber pork products (available online). BSK makes her own version of Boulilabaisse when at the HG/BSK seafront house on Prince Edward Island (BSK uses freshly caught and harvested haddock, cod, clams and mussels plus mineral rich PEI potatoes and tangy fish broth). HG makes a fiery, hot pepper laden mayonnaise to smear on slices of toasted baguette to accompany the dish. HG/BSK never construct a Cassoulet. The best in culinary history was served to HG/BSK at the Port Washington, L.I., home of HG cousin Wini Freund. Useless to compete with that masterpiece. HG/BSK don’t do Galettes (reliable sources say that true Breton galettes can now be found in the Marais neighborhood of Paris at Cafe Breizh). Top flight crepes are made by Gifted Daughter Lesley R. in her sunny Rhode Island waterfront kitchen. She tops them with creme fraiche and Alaskan red salmon caviar. HG can easily knock off a dozen with a few (or more, alas) glasses of icy vodka. BSK and Lesley R. once made Quenelles in Nantucket using bluefish that had just been pulled from the sea. HG was absent but both women attest to their excellence. However, curiously, they have never made them again. Best Quenelles HG ever consumed were at the venerable Veau D’Or bistro in New York many years ago. In order to duplicate that experience, HG will have to get over to Lyon. Unlikely. HG will have to live with his delicious memories.