HUNGRY GERALD

First off — a Merry Christmas from HG to all of you. This Christmas tale will be told a bit in reverse given the timing, but what the hell!

Airport food has changed. For the better. While traveling east for family fun in New York and Rhode Island, HG/BSK and Gorgeous Granddaughter Sofia dined well at airport eateries in Albuquerque and Kansas City (Flying east from New Mexico means a stop in KC). Black Mesa at the Albuquerque Sunport served a lush southwestern quiche filled with local green chiles and good ham. In KC, the travelers had a splendid meal at the aptly named Pork and Pickle. Pulled pork sliders in a tangy (not too sweet) barbecue sauce on three soft buns with cole slaw and crisp pickles. Ice cold Stella Artois beer served in beautiful chilled glasses. Crisp, fresh French fries. What’s not to like? When the weary trio arrived at the waterfront Rhode Island home of HG/BSK’s daughter, the gifted Lesley R. and her husband Massimo R., the brilliant professor, a New England dinner (with some Italian touches) awaited. Rhode Island chowder with plenty of local clams and firm fleshed cod. The meal ended with some very fragrant, ripe Robiola cheese with a ciabatta loaf and spicy pear preserves. Good red wine. Happiness.

HG/BSK are going east for the traditional feasting and gifting jamboree with their joyous Anglo-Irish-Canadian-American-Italian-Jewish-Japanese family (Quick! Please have eligibles marry an African-American and a Latino so we can complete our Rainbow Coalition). Festivities will start in New York a few days before Christmas where HG/BSK will dine at Vic’s, the much-lauded new restaurant venture of HG’s daughter, Restaurateur Victoria F. Scheduled is a dim sum feast at Dim Sum Go Go in Chinatown with the SJ family (and Victoria). Also on schedule is an Uzbekistan Grand Bouffe in Queens celebrating SJ’s birthday. And, while BSK is doing some last minute shopping, HG will knock off some oysters and wine with Victoria at Balthazar, the brasserie which keeps the old time Paris traditions alive. (Yes, the best Paris brasserie is located in New York). Christmas Eve means the traditional Jewish Feast of the Seven Fishes (courtesy of SJ and Russ & Daughters). And, what surprise will Gifted Daughter Lesley R. spring on Christmas Day? Brisket? Osso buco ? Bollito misto ? Traditional turkey? And, is there a new Rhode Island restaurant to be tried? HG has heard rumors about an Indian restaurant in Bristol. Of course, there is old standby Hemenway’s which serves splendid New England oysters as well as Rhode Island clams on the half shell (best in the world), an HG favorite. Hey, food lovers, are you envious? You should be.

This week HG has been eating in Jerusalem (culinarily speaking). Thankfully, HG doesn’t have to be in Jerusalem, because no matter how holy Jerusalem is supposed to be (HG, a non-believer, finds this notion spurious) HG has always identified it as a city with a long history of super bloody violence. Read “Jerusalem: The Biography” by Simon Sebag Montefiore. Wade through 3,000 years of slaughter, madness and fanaticism (much in the name of “faith.”). However, there are two guys who have surmounted the nuttiness of Jerusalem (sensibly, they live in London). The two native Jerusalemites are Yotam Ottllenghi (an Israeli) and Sami Tamimi (an Arab). Business partners, former lovers and proprietors of a number of very successful London restaurants, Yotam and Sami have written a cookbook entitled “Jerusalem.” Illustrated with evocative photographs, the book is a treasure house of savory, enticing recipes. This week, much to the delight of HG/BSK and Gorgeous Granddaughter Sofia, dinner has been pure Jerusalem. First night was “Sweet and Sour Fish.”. Cod was fried lightly and then covered with onions, peppers, tomatoes, vinegar, sugar, olive oil, curry powder and a host of other spices. Heated until cod was cooked through. Served at room temperature. Perfect as an appetizer or main.dish. Next night was “Lamb meatballs with Fava Beans and Lemon.” The cookbook describes these meatballs as “Fresh, sharp and very, very tasty.” Accurate description. BSK served them with couscous which soaked up the lush sauce. Next night: “Turkey & Zucchini Burgers with Green Onion and Cumin.” HG made a sauce of Greek yogurt, sour cream, Aleppo pepper, sea salt, much garlic, olive oil, sumac and zaatar. A blast of taste. So, does the Yotam-Sami partnership and their focus on the magnificent Israeli-Arab food of the city they were raised in hold out hope for amity in Jerusalem? HG’s answer, sadly, is “No.”

Snow was falling last night. Big, wet flakes turned the HG/BSK meadow a glittering white. Temp took a dip. (No fear. Snow rapidly disappears in the high and dry warmth of New Mexican sunshine). Snowfall here means a roaring fireplace, much to drink and comfort food on the table. That’s the way it was when talented pals Polly B. (the brilliant photographer) and David F. (novelist/historian/educator) joined HG/BSK and Gorgeous Granddaughter Sofia for dinner. Flutes of Prosecco (with a dash of Aperol, Venetian style) were sipped as BSK’s latest pots were admired. At the table there was a cold bottle of very good Champagne and a platter of Zabar’s Nova Scotia smoked salmon. This was followed by the paragon of comfort food: Meat loaf. This was no ordinary meat loaf. It was Paul Prudhomme’s Cajun Meat Loaf, loaded with spicy New Orleans flavors. BSK showered it with mushroom sauce and flanked it with BSK’s unique smashed potatoes. Much red wine. Meal ended with Trader Joe’s Salted Caramel Ice Cream and ginger cookies. Good food. Good wine. Good friends. Let it snow, let it snow.

HG has long believed that the only proper role of beets was to provide the basis for ice cold, pink (with the addition of sour cream) borscht, a summer staple of HG’s youth. Nobody ever made it better than HG’s Mom, the late Ida Kopkind Freeman. HG did not like any other preparation of beets. Roast (or braised) beets seemed incompatible with wine. HG did not share the enthusiasm for salads of beets with goat (or blue) cheese and walnuts. Thus, HG did not look forward with anticipation to the beets BSK prepared last night to accompany a meal of pan fried Icelandic cod, steamed haricots vert and tiny potatoes. Surprise. BSK’s beets were a mind changer: Sweet, Spicy, Smoky. How did creative BSK do it? Golden and red beets were cut into small cubes. They were then sautéed with chopped sweet onion in Sicilian olive oil. Lots of smoked black pepper plus some sea salt. Pan was covered and the mix was cooked until the beets softened. The final touch. BSK took off the cover and poured in some syrupy, old balsamic vinegar (the real stuff, not the insipid liquid found on most supermarket shelves). Pan was covered again and cooking went on for a few more minutes so the vinegar could infuse the beets and onions. The result: A revelation.

Some 72 years ago (1942), in a Bar Mitzvah ceremony at the Kingsbridge Heights Jewish Center on Eames Place in The Bronx, HG became defined as an adult Jew, qualified to participate in a “minyun” (the minimum number of adult Jews necessary to conduct religious services). The ceremony did not engender religious belief in HG, a confirmed atheist who identifies culturally with the Jewish people. HG’s lack of faith was not the fault of the presiding Rabbi, a man admired by HG. Israel Miller (1913-2002), had just been appointed Rabbi of the congregation and HG was the young, 29-year-old Rabbi’s first Bar Mitzvah ceremony in the synagogue. In the coming years (as a college student and later as a journalist), HG would consult Rabbi Miller on questions of Jewish history, politics, etc. The Rabbi would gently chide HG about his lack of religious observance. Oddly, he never criticized HG’s marriage to the beautiful, gifted, decidedly non-Jewish BSK. Rabbi Miller (who left Kingsbridge Heights Jewish Center in 1968) went on to a distinguished career as a religious writer and scholar and leader of important national and international Jewish organizations. He was particularly close to the Jewish population of South Africa and was a vigorous foe of apartheid. He took time out from his busy schedule to preside over the funeral of HG’s beloved father. Other than working to become a man, HG found some attractive side benefits to his Bar Mitzvah studies. HG would rush to the synagogue for HG’s five p.m. sessions with a stern teacher of Hebrew who would tutor, hector and scold HG in preparation for the Bar Mitzvah. HG would be bruised and scuffed from violent football games on the field hockey turf of the nearby all-girls Walton High School. Upon leaving his lessons, HG would pass a basement room where a group of old men (some luxuriously bearded) would gather daily to study and dispute portions of the Talmud, the multi volume compendium of Jewish law and religious practice. They were a loud and merry crew (their merriment nourished by bottles of whiskey and plates of herring and pumpernickel on the study table). Upon spotting HG they would issue an invitation: “Bar Mitzvah bucher (young man), hub ah brumfen (have an alcoholic drink).” Even then, HG needed little urging. A sturdy shot of Park & Tilford rye with some herring as a chaser. “Nuch ah mul? (once more) was inquired, HG nodded Yes. Another hearty drink. “A shiker!! (drunkard),” laughed the Talmudists. Yes, HG was a bit woozy when he arrived home for dinner and homework. BSK claims, with some justification, that HG continues to overdo pre-dinner alcohol, substituting vodka for the whiskey of yesteryear.

Karen K., HG/BSK’s pal and neighbor, is a multi-talented woman. A veteran movie producer/director, she is a talented gardener, guardian of chickens who provide super eggs; a trim, energetic hiker, skier and much else. HG has dubbed Karen K. “The Dessert Queen” because she creates the best desserts on earth: goat milk ice cream (HG, at first dubious, was overwhelmed by its goodness), flan that combines Mexican and French flavors with ecstatic results and many varieties of healthy, flavorful baked goodies. Karen K. lives a few hundred yards from HG/BSK/s New Mexico home in Las Barrancas, a cluster of lovely, old adobe dwellings (condominium ownership) created by Cady Wells (1904-1954). Wells, who died much too young, was one of the greatest New Mexico painters (as good as Georgia O’Keefe in HG’s opinion). One of the pleasures of Las Barrancas is “The Kitchen House”. This is a separate building containing a kitchen and a dining room. It evokes a beautiful, romantic past. Many southwestern touches (including a warming kiva fireplace in the dining room). This was the setting for a delightful dinner party hosted by Karen K. a few nights ago. Present were two of Karen’s friends from the film industry–Lisa, retired from a long career as an eminent set decorator and Laurie, also retired, acknowledged as a premier movie still photographer. Lucky HG. The only male at a dinner table with four lively, entertaining and attractive women. HG provided the appetizer, baba ganoush, the middle eastern eggplant dip. Karen served a cajun meat loaf (lots of New Orleans flavors and just enough heat from jalapeño peppers) accompanied by a moist cornbread. Spaghetti squash, roast carrots, tiny potatoes and something braised (was it celery?) rounded the meal out. Sumptuous food, perfect for a very chilly evening. Much red wine was drunk (HG led the way) as the flames flickered in the kiva. A very good salad of baby greens. Then dessert. The Dessert Queen continued her reign. Moist, lush gingerbread topped with traditional hard sauce. A graceful bow to the past. Generous Karen poured HG some wonderful calvados, HG’s favorite brandy. And, there was another happy surprise for HG. Knowing HG’s predilections, Laurie gave HG a bottle of Russian vodka as a birthday present. HG immediately sampled it. Nazdrovya !! A great party.

BSK is a seasonal and inventive cook. For example, a few weeks back: Green tomatoes. BSK found some nice green tomatoes at the Pojoaque Farmers Market close to HG/BSK’s New Mexico home. Traditionally, green tomatoes are sliced, dipped in egg and spicy corn meal and fried (preferably in bacon fat). A staple of down home Southern tables. That’s not what BSK did.. BSK cooked a batch of the green guys with chicken broth, onions, coriander, cumin, cardamon, pepper and salt. When done, the mix went into the blender and was pureed. The smooth stuff was gently reheated. Voila!! Green tomato soup. Tangy. Spicy. Perfect way to start a meal.

HG often longs for the great breads of HG’s Bronx youth. Rye bread. Pumpernickel bread. Bialys. Onion “pletzels” (rolls). A number of grocers offer “Jewish” rye bread. HG believes this is an affront that calls for investigation by the B’nai Brith Anti-Defamation League or even more drastic action by the Jewish Defense League. Dismal present day for HG’s favorites. Pumpernickel bread? Insipid. Bialys? Other than Kossar’s, they are pale imitations without that unique oniony flavor. “Pletzels” ? They’ve disappeared. Bagels, of course, are a sardonic joke. HG doesn’t care because HG never liked bagels. Bagel lovers deserve the nasty chocolate chip and cinnamon raisin bagels now being offered. However, there’s hope. Recently, HG ordered Zabar’s sourdough seeded Jewish rye and Russian pumpernickel bread. Made HG’s eyes misty. These are the authentic loaves. Topped with scallion cream cheese and smoked fish. HG devours many slices with glasses of icy vodka (This regime draws frowns from BSK but HG shakes off disapproval). Another happy note concerning traditional Jewish baked goods. Restaurateur Daughter Victoria sent HG some “Traditional Raspberry Rugelach” (from Russ & Daughters). Spectacular. Sorry, Mom in Heaven, better than yours.

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.