HUNGRY GERALD

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.

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.

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.

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.

During the 50’s and 60’s, one of HG’s favorite New York restaurants was Al Cooper’s located in the Garment Center at 130 W. 36th Street. It was a steak house and its sirloins were on a par with those served at the great Christ Cella, the place which started “Steak Row” — that proliferation of bovine-centric eateries in the East 40’s. While Christ Cella catered to admen, P.R. professionals and sports figures, Al Cooper’s (because of location) was the favorite of fashion big shots. That’s where Christian Dior dined when he was in New York to meet with his U.S. affiliates. The majority of Al Cooper’s customers were Jewish so the restaurant had a number of down home Jewish treats on its menu: superior chopped liver and gefilte fish. During the spring and summer there was icy borscht plus fruit and vegetable dishes smothered in rich sour cream. HG usually ordered a Cooper specialty: A super thick cut of very tender boiled tongue served with superior creamed spinach and English mustard. A delicious dish that HG has never encountered in any other eatery.

Clams Posillipo was one of the long time menu fixtures of New York’s red sauce Italian restaurants that has gradually faded into obscurity. A simple dish of clams steamed in a marinara sauce. On Prince Edward Island, fortunate HG/BSK can purchase very fresh cherrystone clams (known in these parts as quahogs) for less than five bucks a dozen. So, nostalgic HG/BSK decided to revisit this dish last night. BSK got busy chopping: onions, garlic, garlic scapes, basil, parsley, oregano. (Oops. BSK doesn’t chop basil — BSK tears the leaves apart). These are sauteed in olive oil. They go into a pot with good quality canned San Marzano plum tomatoes, white wine and clam broth. When all is boiling away, the clams are added. They get a dusting of red pepper flakes plus some Pimenton( smoked Spanish paprika). The clams are added and the pot is covered. Due to the magic clam clock in BSK’s head the heat is turned off the moment the clams open and before they turn rubbery. The result of BSK’s endeavor is a dish of tender clams floating in a magical, smoky broth redolent of the flavors of Italy and Spain. Chunks of ciabatta are dunked. BSK says the secret is slowly cooking the broth to develop full flavors and making sure the alcohol in the wine has burned off before adding the clams. Whatever. Sure tastes good.

HG/BSK watched a World War Two propaganda movie (set in an improbable Poland) with perky Ida Lupino and stiff Paul Henreid. Excruciating. Terrible acting. Moronic plot. Next night watched Detective Story, the film adaptation of Sidney Kingsley’s Broadway hit play of the same name. When it was released the film was lauded for its realism. Hmmm…Kirk Douglas and Eleanor Parker are the stars and the deliver stagey, scenery-chewing performances. William Bendix, in a supporting role, is the only actor in the film who seems to have a grasp on naturalist performing. HG/BSK agreed: Today’s movie actors are infinitely better than yesterday’s. Yes, there were interesting personalities in the past (Cagney, Bogart, Gable, etc.) but few actors with the abilities of today’s stars. No one with the range of Meryl Streep, Philip Seymour Hoffman and many others. Now, how does this relate to HG’s main focus, food? Well, HG may get nostalgic, and rightfully so, about long closed classic New York restaurants like Gage & Tollner, Luchow’s and Christ Cella; also, HG may get a bit wistful recalling the hearty blue collar eats of a New York that simply does not exist anymore. But, the reality is that today’s restaurant cooking is much better than that of the past. There is more emphasis on fresh, local ingredients and less use of butter, cream and heavy sauces. Greater use of a wide range of international ingredients. HG/BSK thought about this while enjoying imaginative dishes at 3 Petit Bouchons, a charming Montreal bistro. Grilled octopus with grilled potatoes. Cod with fiddlehead ferns and asparagus. Duck confit on Waldorf salad. Unusual sauces. A light touch. Dishes that would never have appeared on a menu 40 years ago. Also, because of changes in immigration patterns and disruptions in Asia and the Middle East, today’s restaurant diner (especially in New York) can taste extraordinary (and often very inexpensive) dishes from many parts of China as well as Thailand, Burma, Malaysia, India, etc. And, excellent Syrian, Lebanese, Turkish food abounds. The exposure to these diverse cuisines and the availability of the ingredients to prepare them has been one of the great boons to our restaurant culture — expanding palates and influencing chefs in the most positive way. To give you an idea of how insular cuisine was (even in New York) the big town in the 1950’s had only one Mexican restaurant — Xochitl. And, that was quite ordinary and Americanized.