HUNGRY GERALD

When HG was a very, very little boy lamb chops were his favorite dish. The little guy called them “ompalomps.” HG hated spinach. So, his cunning Mom buried the spinach in buttery mashed potatoes and HG consumed every drop. Okay, enough sickeningly cute kiddy memories. Lamb chops remain an HG favorite. Best lamp chops ever were the chops at Leon Lianides’ great Greenwich Village restaurant, the Coach House. The rack of lamb was also wonderful there, only matched by the rack at Le Stella, the Paris brasserie. But the marvel, the ultimate not-to-be-equalled rack is found at an unlikely place: The Grand Hotel Restaurant in Big Timber, Montana. HG discovered it because Big Timber is midway, between Denver and Vancouver, so it was a logical place to stop when motoring between the two cities. At the Grand Hotel you accompanied the lamb with a robust red wine from Walla Walla, Washington (HG thinks Wall Walla has the best red in the universe). Another favorite of lamb lovers is the mutton chop at New York’s venerable Keen’s Chop House. You can get it with Yorkshire Pudding and it is a treat. (The old Gage & Tollner’s in Brooklyn served their mutton chop with corn fitters, a nice idea). BSK likes to butterfly a leg of lamb, marinate it in red wine, garlic and herbs and then barbecue it to crusty perfection. Serves it with Greek Avoglemono sauce (eggs and lemon juice are the principal ingredients). Big time gourmandizing.

With the Pacific Ocean on one side and lofty mountain peaks on the other, the Canadian city of Vancouver is one of the world’s great places. A joy to live in. A joy to visit. HG and BSK spent some eight years there in a loft overlooking the sparkling skyscrapers and natural wonders of the town. Their neighborhood was Mt. Pleasant, the epicenter of Canadian cool. Full of boutiques, coffee shops and wonderful Asian restaurants. The neighborhood is still a bit gritty and that’s what gives it some zing. If you want to visit (and you really shouldn’t miss it) rent a furnished apartment in the Mt. Pleasant nabe (there are no hotels to recommend but airbnb.com has lots of inexpensive apartment listings). Much to do and see in the glorious town but HG will just guide you to some of the best (and cheapest) dining you can walk to from your rented digs. Breakfast at sprawling Congee Noodle House. Name says it all — great congee and noodle soups plus splendid won tons, rice crepes and bean curd. Chutney Villa is a warm and friendly South Indian spot with great dosas, curries and creative chutneys. Try Peaceful Restaurant for beef rolls and dan dan noodles. Hime Japanese for sushi and Les Faux Bourgeois for down home bistro favorites. Eight 1/2 Bar is where the young hipsters drink and snack. Ten minute walk from Main Street in Mt. Pleasant is Szechuan Chonquing at 2808 Commercial Drive. (The “Drive” is home to alternative culture types, punks, junkies and lots of laid back Canadian families). Szechuan Chonquing is an HG favorite for dim sum. No carts. Order off the menu. Everything arrives hot and freshly made. This is another spot for dan dan noodles (lots of fire in this restaurant’s version). These suggestions can give you a taste of Vancouver. Yes, there are lots of wonderful restaurants outside of Mt. Pleasant. Vij’s, Kirin and Tojo’s are three greats. Go and discover.

Years ago there was only one New York restaurant specializing in steamed Chinese dumplings and other staples of the delightful dim sum menu. The eatery was Nom Wah Tea Parlor, tucked away on Doyers Street in Chinatown. It was refurbished recently and is very good. Now, Nom Wah is but one of scores of restaurants in Chinatown, Flushing and Sunset Park specializing in dim sum. There are modest little joints and sumptuous, vast Hong Kong dim sum palaces. HG is delighted. There are few things better than sharing dim sum with a table of friends. Also heartening is the explosive growth of small Beijing-style dumpling restaurants (many also offering soups and basic noodle dishes) along Eldrige Street, East Broadway and Henry Street. Cheap and tasty. Two or three dollars buys a filling, delicious meal. HG also likes the fact that many Chinatown places are offering Fuzhou hand pulled and peeled noodles. Winter is fast approaching and these joints are poised to offer steaming bowls to the chilled and hungry folks on strict budgets. They deserve applause.

The Vietnamese Bahn Mi (BBQ pork, a variety of pickled and fresh vegetables, Vietnamese pate. etc. on a baguette) has become a big winner among fanciers of sandwiches and Asian food. There are are many restaurants in New York specializing in this sandwich. Causes HG to sigh. With the demise of Jewish delicatessens the Banh Mi seems slated to replace the pastrami sandwich as the New York symbolic nosh. Sad. Best sandwich ever was the pastrami, chopped liver, cole slaw, Russian dressing sandwich on seeded rye served at the demised Gitlitz Deli on Broadway and 78th. This was closely followed by the Reuben (corned beef, sauerkraut, swiss cheese, Russian dressing, rye bread — grilled to molten perfection) at Reuben’s Delicatessen (long closed) on East 58th. Runner up was the rare room temperature sliced roast beef with thinly sliced raw onion and coarse salt on rye bread liberally coated with chicken fat. HG liked this at a delicatessen on Beach 116th Street, Rockaway Park. HG also fancied the muenster cheese and lettuce sandwich on an onion roll served at long shuttered cafeterias like The Belmore and Dubrow’s. HG is not just a parochial adherent of old style Jewish sandwiches. He has always fancied Cubanos, those pork and cheese sandwiches pressed upon a hot grill served at Cuban restaurants. HG often had one (accompanied by black beans and rice) at many Washington Heights hole-in-the-wall eateries. Good stuff. Those joints also served the best steaming cups of espresso.

Last night HG watched the Japanese firm, Jiro Dreams of Sushi. This is an appetite honing and thought provoking documentary about sushi chef Jiro Ono. Jiro, a spry and spruce 85-year-old gentleman owns and runs a sushi restaurant in Tokyo that has legendary status and three stars from Michelin. There are 10 seats and despite the fact that a sushi meal there costs each diner, at minimum, $300, reservations must be made months in advance. Essentially, this is a film about one man’s lifelong, obsessive search for perfection. And, it seems he has achieved it. He has also left a tough legacy to his sons (also sushi chefs) who strive to live up to his reputation while creating their own identities. The film left HG musing. Why are the two best food films (the other is Tampopo, an ode to ramen) Japanese? What is there in the Japanese character that drives a person to devote a lifetime to making the perfect pot, the perfect piece of calligraphy, the perfect flower arrangement — or the perfect portion of sushi? HG has the great good fortune of having a Japanese daughter-in-law, Exquisite Maiko. No, EM is not a slightly mad obsessive like Jiro Ono, but she is a mighty serious lady in the kitchen. HG has marveled at her knife skills when she worked wonders with a fresh filet of mackerel. HG has noted the symphony of sizzle as she prepared lighter-than-air tempura and the deftness of her fingers as she shaped wondrous gyoza and her patience in treating pork bellies to a three fold preparation technique culminating in an earthy, soul warming dish. EM’s performance is a one-woman show. It is wise not to get in her way. HG enjoys a dual pleasure. HG watches EM’s kitchen ballet. And, then he eats HG’s food. And, she doesn’t charge him 300 dollars.

The New York Yankee sage, Yogi Berra (once HG’s neighbor in Montclair, NJ.), observed about a restaurant: “Nobody goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.” That’s the way HG felt about Santa Fe’s Jambo Cafe, located in a Cerillos Road strip mall. A small place, there was often considerable wait to taste the creative and unusual Caribbean/African cuisine. Well, HG was near there today and had a lust for vibrant coconut-peanut-chicken stew. HG discovered that Jambo has tripled in size. Same bright and colorful decor. Same smiling, warm and efficient service. The food? Better than ever. HG’s huge bowl of the aforementioned stew was brilliantly robust with many complex layers of hot, sweet and savory flavors. (If not hot enough for daring tastes, there’s a bottle of crushed Jamaican Scotch Bonnet peppers on each table. Let the unwary beware. Asked for a mini taste of the goat stew (yes, goat, and please don’t knock it until you try it) and the dish evoked Paris bistros and Rastafarian gourmet cooking. Don’t just concentrate on New Mexican green chile extravaganzas when you are in Santa Fe. Take a detour to Jambo.

Santa Fe seems to have more restaurants per capita than any place in the West. A very wide range from the pretentious and pricey to the down home and cheap. Permanent population is small but when the legislature is operating there is a deluge of politicos, lawyers, lobbyists, etc. And, of course, there are the omnipresent tourists. Once more a wide range: Dusty drifters, plain folks, multi-millionaire art collectors — and everything in between.

HG is often asked for dining advice in “The City Different.” Here are some must-visit spots that HG has posted about previously: 12 minutes north of Santa Fe in Pojaque is El Parasol and O’ Eating House. El Parasol is where the Latino folks eat and it is homey, cheap, delicious. Real Northern New Mexico cooking. Do not miss the green chile menudo and the chicken tacos. O’ serves sophisticated Italian food and creative, thin-crusted pizzas. In Santa Fe, go to Tia Sophia’s for Tex-Mex food, Jambo Cafe for Caribbean and African food, Tune Up (a real neighborhood hangout) for a great breakfast burrito smothered in green chile sauce. Tune Up also has wonderful pies and cakes (so save room). Shohko Cafe has surprisingly good sushi and crisp, light tempura. HG’s favorite New Mexico chef, Eric Stapelman, has two wonderful places: Shibumi Ramenya (ramen and Japanese izakaya dishes) and Trattoria Nostrani (sophisticated Italian food and splendid wines). Be forewarned: Eric runs fragrance-free restaurants so omit perfume and cologne. HG;s luncheon favorite is The Compound on gallery-lined Canyon Road. Do not miss the chicken schnitzel with caper sauce. Bon appeit!!

Air travel is tedious and tiring these days. There is a whiff of fascism to the utterly nonsensical rules, regulations and procedures demanded in flying from one city to another. Some 13 hours of transit altogether from Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, to a one night stay in Denver. HG and BSK were tired, grumpy and very hungry when they arrived in the Mile High City. Time for comfort food. Off to Little India (the Sixth Avenue location). Great food (a new chef, perhaps?). Chicken Tikka from the tandoori oven was juicy, full of flavor — nestled on thinly slcied sweet onions and peppers on a sizzling platter. Excellent onion kulcha bread. Fluffy saffron rice. Greaseless papadums with two good dipping sauces. Cooling Raita and a bowl of mango chutney. The surprise was the vegetable dishes: an eggplant stew and a bowl of okra. The vegetables retained integrity and were miracles of Indian spicing. The restaurant has a nice wine list and good Indian beers as well as Anchor Steam Ale from San Francisco. Finished with pistachio ice cream. No, not that green crap masquerading under the label pistachio. This was Indian pistachio ice cream that was saffron in color, contained chunks of pistachio and was delicious.

Breakfast the next day (before the 5 and 1/2 hour drive to Santa Fe) was at Racine’s, a Denver landmark. Three-egg omelettes stuffed with green chiles and then smothered in a porky, green chile sauce. Crisp home fries and warm biscuits. Yes, HG and BSK really felt they were back in the great West. Much chatter in the big, handsome restaurant about the coming of the Football Messiah (Peyton Manning). Denver folks have been waiting for the next Messiah since the retirement of the original, John Elway. Lots of Super Bowl dreams. BSK is oblivious. HG will observe with focused interest.

This week The New York Times reported the passing (at 87) of Robert Treboux, the proprietor of the frozen-in-time French bistro, Le Veau D’Or located in New York’s Upper East Side. Sad news. Treboux was a gracious man who kept alive old fashioned, French bistro cooking. Nothing ever changed at Le Veau D’Or. Not the decor. Not the menu. Not the gracious service. Only the clientele, which got older every year but remained faithful to this temple of quenelles, tripe, brains in black butter and long simmered butter and wine sauces. When HG had offices on Madison Avenue and 60th Street HG lunched there frequently. HG was served a giveaway of mussels in mustard sauce. Then there was an ample plate of sausage in crust with warm potato salad. Crocks of Dijon mustard (the real, tongue tingling stuff before pallid Grey Poupon arrived on the scene) and cornichons. Then a serving of brains in black butter with crusty bread and parsley-flecked boiled potatoes. A wedge of ripe Camembert helped HG finish his luncheon bottle of Beaujolais. In cold weather, HG often dipped into a huge cassoulet or a Provencal pot roast redolent of garlic, tomatoes and fresh herbs

Two years ago, HG lunched at the restaurant with SJ in tow. Treboux was there to give a pleasant welcome. At the end of the meal, HG encountered Elaine Kaufman of Elaine’s Restaurant and settled down to an afternoon of cognac and gossip. Elaine died a few months later. And, now Treboux. Thus, does HG’s New York fade into oblivion.

HG AND BSK are planning a trip to Montreal this winter (Francophone and a lot cheaper to get to than Paris). As is HG’s custom, HG has been doing some thorough research on Montreal restaurants. Lots of good eating. The question is: Can greedy HG survive the onslaught of all the hearty, unhealthy foods that are Montreal specialties and HG’s heart’s (and mouth’s) desire? For example: A local favorite restaurant, Au Pied de Cochon, lists about 25 foie gras dishes on its menu. Foie gras my be outlawed in California but it thrives in Montreal. Examining Montreal bistro menus, HG has spotted lots of wonderful offal — calf’s liver, kidneys in mustard sauce. sweetbreads. And, an HG favorite, os l’moelle — roasted marrow bones served with a thin spoon for excavating, country bread and coarse salt. Steak frites, steak tartare and racks of lamb on every menu. Sammy’s Steak House on Manhattan’s Lower East Side has a challenger in Montreal’s Moishe’s Steak House. Moishe serves enormous steaks accompanied by potato latkes or varenekes (a type of pierogi). And, Schwartz’s challenges New York’s Carnegie Deli with its huge smoked meat sandwiches. It seems that Montreal’s Jewish community (which produced Saul Bellow, Mordecai Richler and Leonard Cohen) keeps the old, unhealthy traditions of overeating alive and unwell. HG intends to precede his Montreal visit with a few weeks of tofu and sprouts. After that, lead HG to the good, bad stuff.