HUNGRY GERALD

Espanola, a gritty town ten minutes drive from HG/BSK’s Jacona home, is much maligned. It has some social problems (it is known as New Mexico’s meth capital); a political system that is often criticized; much unattractive housing and numerous shopping centers built without an iota of soul or aesthetic foresight. Offsetting this is colorful, vernacular architecture (featuring some wonderful neon signage), a surprising amount of cutting-edge modernism and numerous good places to eat. Foremost among them is Angelina’s, a spacious place that draws a colorful crowd of New Mexicans–young, old, ranchers, cowboys, farmers, government officials, businesspersons. The food is solid Northern New Mexico. Red chile sauce is a specialty but the green is not far behind (on a recent visit, HG had a bowl of super assertive green chile menudo that chased away the chills and any lingering effects of a previous night’s overindulgence in alcohol). During the meal, HG/BSK shared some robust ground lamb burritos (the lamb had been grilled with pico de gallo and melded New Mexican and Middle Eastern flavors). Lamb is a specialty of Angelina’s (sheep have been raised in Northern New Mexico for many generations). At Angelina’s, you can have lamb in many forms. There are lamb burgers (plain or grilled with jalapenos and onions); lamb chops; lamb ribs (Costillas) and lamb fajitas. And, you can specify lamb in any of the traditional plates like enchiladas, flautas, tostadas, etc. for a $1.00 additional charge. Besides the lamb dishes, Angelina’s has another unusual twist. The restaurant serves traditional, down home diner favorites: Deep fried breaded catfish; pork chops; liver and onions; chicken fried steak. You can also get a big, ribeye steak; salmon, trout and shrimp. There’s wine (not exactly a Parisian carte de vins) and beer. Very nice flan for dessert. Yes, Angelina’s does it all. Big portions. Small prices. Lots of plain spoken comfort.

William Zeckendorf, Jr., real estate developer and philanthropist, died recently in Santa Fe. Born in New York, son of the legendary, flamboyant developer William Zeckendorf, Sr., Bill was a quiet, cerebral version of his father. But, like his father, he took big financial risks resulting in major ups and downs. The sons of Bill, Jr. are real estate titans in New York these days, developing and selling condominiums at astronomical prices (they recently sold a $40,000,000 condo in a building they developed on Central Park West). Bill, Jr. hired HG (late 70’s or early 80’s in HG’s memory) to thwart community opposition and publicize a risky development–a 33-story condominium tower on the northwest corner of 96th Street and Broadway called The Columbia. Lots of development plans for the site had failed. This was before the West Side became a fashionable address for the upwardly mobile and Broadway still contained many nocturnal hookers and quite a few outdoor drug markets. HG met with officials of the local elementary schools and worked out an arts program for the construction fence of the condo. Sixth and seventh grade students used the fence as a revolving art show painting pictures on themes like “My dream home”, “Favorite New York building,” “My hero,” etc. HG organized a jury of community luminaries (including some anti-development firebrands) and prizes were awarded monthly for best efforts. It all received loads of publicity and TV coverage and focused attention on the development as a family friendly and community involved environment. The condos sold quickly and Bill, Jr. went on to do major developments on Union Square, Eighth Avenue and other locations until getting whacked by financing disasters. HG always enjoyed his New York business meetings with Bill, Jr. They took place at the Sparks Steak House. Bill, Jr. thought the steak house had the best wine list in town and introduced HG to many splendid vintages. HG has delicious taste memories of cabernet from the Jordan winery in California. Bill, Jr. was a member of the distinguished wine lovers association, Confrerie des Chevaliers du Testavin. He inherited his wine love from his father. William Zeckendorf, Sr. headed the Webb & Knapp real estate firm with headquarters on midtown Madison Avenue. Its conference room was a circular space on the top floor of the building. That’s where William, Sr. hosted his legendary business lunches. HG was present at one (in 1962 or 1963, a few years before Webb & Knapp went bankrupt in 1965). HG was present because HG had been hired to do a publicity project for Mile High Center, a W & K development in Denver. As usual, a superb French wine was served at lunch (by a quite formal butler). The majority of the luncheon guests were concerned bankers and others who were owed a great deal of money by Zeckendorf. One of the bankers sipped his wine. “Say, Bill, this is great wine. How much would a bottle of this good stuff cost?” Zeckendorf stated the price. The banker blanched. The others at the table looked shocked. Yes, William Zeckendorf may have been going bankrupt but he never lowered his wine drinking standards.

HG/BSK like to keep their meals simple. Occasionally time is of the essence as well. With that in mind, the duo have devised a very quick Indian dinner. The basis is Seeds of Change curry sauce. Yes, it is a very pretentious name but the ingredients in the jar are pure and savory without the deadly, stale canned taste of many heat-and-eat Indian sauces. So. HG/BSK grill some lightly oiled chicken breasts on a ridged, cast iron pan until they’re just about done. Cut into smaller pieces, the chicken is simmered in the Seeds of Change sauce for about 10 minutes. BSK coats cauliflower florets with garlic infused olive oil, dusts them with cumin and roasts them in a preheated oven. Accompaniments are rice, naan and papadums. HG is a lover of Indian condiments so there are jars of mango chutney, sweet and hot lime pickles plus a bottle of indispensable sriracha to heat things up. Ice cold beer is the appropriate beverage.

When HG/BSK wish to spend more time to preparing an indian feast they automatically think of Vij’s. When HG/BSK had a home in glorious Vancouver, they often had dinner at Vij’s — possibly the best Indian restaurant in the world — and lunched at Vij’s casual eatery, Rangoli. Vij’s is owned and run by Vikram Vij (he’s in front) and his wife, Meeru Dhalwala (she’s in the kitchen). No reservations policy at Vij’s. Opens at 5:30 PM and there’s a line in front. Woosh..and every seat is taken. Get there later than opening and face a one hour (or more) wait at the friendly bar and be fueled by free appetizers. The food? Innovative. Creative. Spectacular. Service is warm and professional. The wine list is exemplary (Vij qualified as a sommelier in Europe). Prices are moderate. Fortunately, Vij and Meeru have written some cookbooks so their dishes can be reproduced at HG/BSK’s New Mexico home. Vij’s: Elegant & Inspired Indian Cuisine is a favorite. So, last night BSK turned to Page 92, “Vij Family’s Chicken Curry.” This is a curry unlike anything served at conventional Indian restaurnts. Layer upon layer of flavors. Not searing hot but tangy. Went beautifully with rice, big bowl of garlicky raita and the aforementioned array of chutneys and Indian pickles. Drank Spanish garnacha (Vij recommends tempranillo). Wonderful meal. Later this week HG/BSK will do some vegetable dishes (eggplant, cauliflower, etc.) from the book. Get a copy and enter the rewarding culinary world of Vij’s.

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!!!

HG’s holiday voyage (Providence and Paris) began with Gifted Daughter Lesley R.’s linguine con vongole (utilizing loads of luscious Rhode Island clams). It ended with a clam feast at the Legal Sea Food outpost at Logan International Airport in Boston. HG is a big fan of Legal. HG recalls grilled Dover sole on the Legal menu in years past that was as good as anything in London or Paris at a tiny fraction of the price. Though the heavenly sole has disappeared, there are plenty of unsurpassed Rhode Island clams. HG had a dozen on the half shell. A fresh, briny kiss from the salt waters. BSK ate her favorite fried calamari done Rhode Island style (with hot peppers). HG/BSK dove into a nice fry up of clam bellies and onion rings. Washed it down with pinot grigio (for BSK) and Sam Adams ale (for HG). Back in New Mexico, HG will have to put clam feasting on hold until summer at HG/BSK’s ocean home on Prince Edward Island. PEI quahogs are very good though they don’t reach the heights of the Rhody guys. The consolation is Colville Bay oysters. HG will do lots of shucking. If you read Hungry Gerald, you are, obviously, a fan of fine prose and fine food. With that in mind, HG recommends a reading of the “Chowder” chapter in Moby Dick. Melville describes (and gives a recipe for) the chowder served to Ishmael and Queequeg at The Pots. You can find it online and in the great novel. Sail on, sail on, Pequod.

The Maghreb is the culturally distinct region of North Africa (Algeria, Tunisia and Morocco) fronting on the Mediterranean Sea. HG loves the food from this part of the world and enjoys its splendors whenever possible. There’s a good article on Maghreb food in Paris by Jay Cheshes (SAVEUR–Nov. 12, 2012). Cheshes mentions two great street foods: Casse-croute (Tunisian tuna and vegetable sandwich) and Mahjouba (Algerian crepes rolled around grilled vegetables). Why do working class Parisians have all the luck? Why can’t we Americans have these treats instead of hamburgers? Cheaper and healthier. In a recent post, HG mentioned the excellent (at a very modest price) chicken and preserved lemon tagine with couscous HG enjoyed at Restaurant Jour et Nuit on Paris’s gritty Boulevard de la Chapelle. Close to that place is Dar el Houma (mentioned by Cheshy) which specializes in chicken tagines atop Maghreb noodles. Sounds pleasing. Also in the area is Les Trois Freres which in addition to couscous, does a mean steak et frites. Makes HG want to hustle back to Paris. Sadly, Maghreb food has not really proliferated in the United States. Surprising, since dumbed-down Mexican, Italian and Chinese food is available everywhere. Couscous has gained a foothold in American kitchens, but has not really infiltrated US restaurants. In all of HG’s many years in New York, HG remembers only one good couscous joint. This was a place in the West Greenwich Village where a jolly Israeli guy dished out maximum couscous dinners at minimal prices. Long closed. Sad.

HG has often noticed that plane travel makes HG ferociously hungry; and in a sad twist of fate, satisfying this hunger on a plane, in an airport or in the environs of an airport is close to impossible as the edible offerings are typically terrible. Well, on HG/BSK’s recent travel from New Mexico to Denver to Rhode Island to Paris and back, HG found himself pleasantly surprised. On the trip out from Denver, HG’s thoughts turned to sandwiches. There are times when nothing satisfies quite like a good sandwich. Of course, such specimens aren’t so easy to find. Been a long time since HG has really had a top flight bacon-tomato-lettuce-mayonnaise-whole wheat toast sandwich at a local diner. And, of course, a really big time Jewish pastrami on rye can only be found at Katz’s in New York or Langer’s in Los Angeles. But HG found a great sandwich in an unlikely spot — Elway’s, a nicely designed eatery at the Denver International Airport. John Elway is a Denver football icon who has two steak houses in the city plus this place. Don’t know if John knows anything about food but Elway’s served HG an exemplary blackened fish sandwich on a brioche bun. It was enhanced by New Orleans tasso ham and chipotle dressing. And, accompanied by a nice bowl of chipotle infused cole slaw. Good, spicy stuff. Made HG think over a lifetime of hand-held treats — HG is very fond of big, robust Italian sandwiches (called heroes, grinders, subs and po’ boys–dependent upon geography). The best ever was served in a deli on the main street of New Paltz in the Hudson Valley. John Goodman, that exemplary actor (who looks like a world class eater) likes the mufaletta sandwich prepared by an Italian grocery in New Orleans (it features vinegary olive salad with an array of salami and ham). Take a look at the website of The Italian Corner in East Providence, Rhode Island, to see its encyclopedic array of grinders. One of the stars is the sausage pizzaiola grinder (sausage in a sauce of tomato, capers, spices and Romana cheese). On Fridays, there’s a special of a Calamari steak grinder. Chilean squid is pounded thin, grilled quickly to a point of juicy tenderness. It is then nestled between two slices of good Italian bread with plenty of lettuce, tomatoes, peppers and olive oil. A gift from the sea.

On HG’s return trip: winding back to New Mexico via the erratic airline system, HG had the pleasant experience on the plane of watching Denver beat San Diego (with the ever dangerous Philip Rivers) and San Francisco defeat the upstart Panthers. Checked into the Holiday Inn Express at Denver International Airport. Pleasant hotel with the world’s worst shuttle service (be forewarned). BSK peckish. Went to nearby Sporting News Grill. Expecting the worst. Surprise. Had a sliced flatiron steak salad. Really first rate. And, the IPA brew on tap hit the spot. Off to New Mexico in the AM. Sunny day and nice motoring to Pueblo. Oops. Highway blocked (chemical spills, high winds, etc,). Lengthy detour to Salida. Hungry HG/BSK lunched at Carmelina’s and had a platter of fresh, healthy food — fish tacos with toothsome corn tortillas, salad, tangy salsa, good refritos with melted cheese. Learned later that Salida has a Vietnamese restaurant. Colorado’s small towns are not provincial when it comes to food and fortunately this aesthetic has extended to its airport.

HG was reflecting on his Paris trip while spending a day in Rhode Island before returning to New Mexico. Here are some observations: HG does not understand the Paris reputation for arrogance and rudeness. HG/BSK were treated with unvarying friendliness and courtesy in every encounter. HG walks with a cane and could not enter a metro car without someone — male, female, old, young, French, African, Arab — offering the old guy a seat. With many, a “Merci beaucoup”, still vigorous HG declined the courteous offers….HG enjoys the grittier neighborhoods of Paris (Barbes-Rochechouart, Belleville, Strasbourg St. Denis, etc.) for the colorful street life and the abundance of very inexpensive, very tasty food. Didn’t get to 13e (site of the Paris Chinatown). Though no Flushing, this nabe offers a lot of restaurants that compare favorably to Manhattan’s Chinatown…HG pal Peter Hellman, author and wine expert (a frequent contributor to “Wine Spectator”), suggested HG dine in the food department of the Galeries Lafayette food department on Boulevard Hausmann. Good tip. HG knocked off a super lunch there at the fish eatery (oysters, a few oursins, prawns) while BSK and Beautiful Granddaughter Sofia did well with some caprese salad and other nibbles at an Italian themed niche. Am saving the Spanish ham counter for the next Paris visit…French yogurt is great way to start the morning…Escargots in the United States are insipid. For the real, great, robust stuff, get over to Bourgogne Sud in 9e. The biggest, bestest snails in the universe.