HUNGRY GERALD

HG’s beloved Giants rose to the occasion 0n Sunday and trounced the Packers in the chill of Lambeau Field. HG had a big bag of Turkish pistachios (a Christmas gift from SJ) and a bottle of 100% Agave Tequila for sustenance during the game. A pleasant fire flaming away in the fireplace. Then, a celebratory dinner of pork chops, beans, corn and okra. Southwestern chow with jalapeno, chopped onion, sliced avocado, fiery salsa toppings. Lots of very cold Samuel Adams beer. The day before, Tom Brady, the decidedly secular quarterback of the Patriots, dissected the Denver Broncos. Some 25 years of residence in Colorado have made HG a Broncs fan (it was inevitable). However, the deification of young Tim Tebow, a strange hybrid of a running back/passer, has disturbed HG. Tebow seems like a nice young man but he has been on his way to becoming the poster boy (a virgin poster boy, by his admission) of the Christian right. He starred in an anti-abortion commercial last year. There was a smarmy religious commercial during the broadcast of Saturday’s Bronc disaster. So, HG took some very grim satisfaction at the triumph of secular New England football.

Smoked Spanish paprika, La Vera Pimenton, is a very good thing and should be part of every gourmand’s cooking arsenal. It is uniquely smokey with a subtle spiciness. Great with eggplant and zucchini. As a change of pace, it can be dusted over softly scrambled eggs. HG likes to do a quick stir fry of shrimp in oil and garlic dusted with a liberal dose of this magic ingredient. A great appetizer. Equally good over buttery grits.

Shrimp and grits is an HG favorite. Check Google. You’ll find some good recipes for this Southern dish by Bobby Flay among others. Best shrimps and grits ever were served with Tasso Ham at Soul Kitchen, a funky restaurant in Chicago’s Wicker Park neighborhood. Alas, the place is now closed.

HG does not relish crackers. The Triscuits and Cheez-Its of the world leave him cold. The exception: Carr’s Whole Wheat Crackers. Why not? The British bakers of this estimable cracker proudly adorn their cracker box with
the official stamp “By Appointment to H.M. The Queen.” A resolute Anglophile, HG says: Good enough for royalty, good enough for HG. Love the cracker with some ripe camembert or peanut butter and jelly or a smear of cream cheese. Goes nicely with red wine.

Another good thing is Ohsung Kimchi Flavor Bowl Noodle Soup with Soy Peptide — What a name! This Korean inferno is packaged like an ordinary ramen (pour boiling water into container, etc.). But, there’s a big difference. This is a fiery hot soup not recommended for timid palates. Be warned: It will put you into a sweat on a below zero day. When HG calls it an inferno in a box HG isn’t overstating. But beyond the heat, this is a delicious and hearty soup and a great and quick pick me up on a frigid day.

SJ here, back in NYC after a lovely winter holiday in New Mexico. Greeted by bone chillingly cold weather and to add insult to injury, a dead battery and a flat tire. If you have ever changed a tire while the eagle claws of a NYC winter wind clamp down on the tiniest patch of exposed flesh, then you can well imagine my sorry state when I arrived home for dinner.

Well, I have made one very, very smart choice and that was joining forces for life with the great Exquisite Maiko. For she, among her many many talents, knows how rejuvenate with a meal. And if anything can rejuvenate in the winter, it is what she welcomed me with, Onabe or Hot Pot. This is a simple dish really. You take stock — take the time to make homemade stock please as it makes an enormous difference — and kombu and boil it in a clay pot over an open flame (we use a portable gas grill). And then you just add stuff. Napa Cabbage, bean sprouts, marinated chicken, fish balls, shitake mushrooms, tofu, watercress, noodles and really any vegetable (except cucumbers and a few others!). Spoon out the steaming hot broth, add some ponzu sauce, some chili paste and pick out your favorite vegetables and proteins and dig in. The various vegetables and meat flavor the soup and the pure heat of the boiling broth could warm up one of those frozen Siberian mammoths in a matter of moments.

Onabe is the essence of Japanese home cooking – simple, delicious, healthy; a virtual translation of the concept of hearth and familial warmth into something edible. It is a bed rock favorite of the Sumo cuisine known as Chanko. And the best part is all that delicious broth does not go to waste. Tomorrow night the soup gets added to rice to make Ojiya, a sort of Japanese congee that is as heartwarming as it sounds. Normally Ojiya is made at the end of an Onabe meal — just add rice, a beaten egg and scallion and cover!

So, while the frost may fall in layers about my ears and the winds may whistle, I have the pleasures of Japanese Winter foods to look forward to — and that may just be worth whatever cold I have to face.

Onabe

It is common knowledge that the best thing about Chanukah is the consumption of many potato latkes. For the last morning of the Festival of Lights, SJ made that point con brio. SJ’s latkes had lacy, crisp edges. Juicy interiors. Hit with a touch of sour cream and dotted with Red Salmon Caviar and the remainder of Russ & Daughters’ smoked salmon and sable — the result was pure Heaven. HG’s favorite late breakfast. The good times kept rolling.

Yes, there was a crisp and golden skinned turkey with lots of moist and flavorful meat carved gracefully by BSK’s sister, Noel M. This was preceded by Beulah soup (named for HG’s late, beloved sister who introduced the Freeman Famille to the soup — essentially, a puree of Butternut squash and chicken stock. But, SJ kicked it up many notches through a blend of spices like nutmeg, cayenne, cumin and the secret ingredient, apple cider. Soup was topped off with a dab of sour cream or Greek yogurt (dusted with additional cayenne for lovers of spicy heat.) Turkey side dishes included a cornbread dressing (made lush with mushrooms and sausage), BSK’s very special cranberry sauce, haricots vert, brussel sprouts (tiptoeing into heaven with their topping of bacon and chestnuts), pearl onions glazed with balsamic vinegar, a virtual mountain of SJ’s buttery mashed potatoes. And, yes, there was that essential — gallons of flavorful turkey gravy. Beaujolais Nouveau was the wine of choice. Later in the evening there was BSK-baked apple pie and ice cream with dolce con leche.

Appetites had been honed by a long sunshine hike in the snow dotted New Mexico landscape. HG and Adorable Haru swam many laps in the heated indoor lap pool. Loads of joy.

Family, Food and Fun. Who could ask for anything more?

It’s an HG family tradition: A smoked fish and caviar feast on Christmas Eve. So, courtesy of New York’s Russ & Daughters and the magic of Fed Ex, there was a festive and abundant table. Nova Scotia Smoked Salmon and Sable (best in the world) and Whitefish Salad and Red Salmon Caviar and Smoked Salmon Tartare and Capers and Sliced Onions and Herring (Schmaltz and Maatjes) and lemons and ground pepper. New York bagels and bialys, of course. Aakavit, vodka and beer and white wine. SJ made a big batch of superb blini from a Canal House Cook Book recipe. Topped them with caviar and a choice of creme fraiche or Mexican sour cream (extra thick).

Some thousands of miles away The Riva Family was in a small town in Italy (near Naples) dining on shucked oysters, crab salad, grilled scampi, pasta with bivalves and crustaceans. Plus various broiled, sauteed and fried fish. In New York, Restaurateur Daughter Vicki supped on caviar and champagne.

Today, the emphasis will be on The Big Bird and yummy gravy. Pass the stuffing and SJ creamy mashed potatoes.

Farm raised salmon. Despicable. Farm raised bass. Nasty. Haven’t tasted farm raised tilapia. Any opinions? The fish from the Spanish farm Veta La Palma is said to be delicious.

Farm raised catfish is excellent however. HG does it this way: Brief soak in buttermilk. Dredge in flour. Dip in beaten egg. Dredge in black pepper seasoned matzo meal. Fry in a big cast iron pan with plenty of sizzling canola oil. Pass the lemon, Frank’s Hot Sauce and cold beer. HG ate plenty of wild, bottom feeding catfish in Harlem cafes during his college days. Always had a slightly muddy taste effectively masked by super-peppery crust crisped in bacon fat or lard. Today’s catfish has a nice, fresh texture. BSK, once a catfish hater, has been converted.

Okay. In his last post, HG claimed that the world’s best green chili stew is in Colorado (HG fears a New Mexico hit squad bent on avenging this slur to the Land of Enchantment). And, where is the best meat sauce ragu? In BSK’s New Mexico kitchen.

Six hour drive from Denver to New Mexico under grey, cold skies. Famished and chilled upon arrival at Casa HG/BSK. Time for a fireplace blaze and comfort food on the table. BSK checked the freezer and there was a container of BSK’s ragu, saved for just such an occasion. The ragu was BSK’s creative variation on Marcella Hazan’s classic Bolognese ragu. Accompanied by a bottle of Willamette Valley red, steaming bowls of pasta topped with BSK ragu restored the travel weary.

HG made a judgment. He pronounced BSK’s ragu the world’s best. HG made this judgment after spending three weeks in Bologna devouring tagliatelle with ragu at the city’s best trattorias. HG adores BSK but sentiment has no place in HG’s culinary judgments. BSK ragu rules.

SJ here. Nothing quite signifies why I love New York so much as my recent discovery of the best tamale I have ever eaten. Story goes like this: My fine son (Jewpanese to the core) demanded a bialy before heading off to his karate class. As we were on the road, we stopped at bagel shop on Smith & 9th street in Brooklyn’s Gowanus/Cobble Hill neighborhood called Line bagels (apparently the name is full of controversy as it used to be called F LINE bagels after the subway line that stops right in front of it. But, the MTA sued them for unauthorized use of the name and forced them to change.) Along the wall, with advertised specials for bagels, wraps and the typical stuff, was a board announcing tamales and enchiladas. When I placed my order, I realized that the bagel store had been taken over by a Mexican family and the woman taking my order definitely looked like a grandmother who could cook. I asked her if the tamales were good and she replied that she made them fresh every morning from her family recipe. I have never trusted someone as much as I did her, so I put in my order for a chicken tamale while her son informed me that their tamales were so beloved that one guy in Long Island orders 150 of them every week to give to his extended family and co-workers.

Along with a perfectly fine bialy for my son, the tamale I got was gigantic — a plump, juicy log of corn meal stuffed with intensely flavored braised chicken. I have eaten Tamales in the south, in the south-west, in Mexico, from a cooler in front of a Salvation Army in Chicago’s Pilsen neighborhood, but these F Line Bagel tamales made others seem like a joke. They were perfect: moist, but not falling apart, fragrant of mesa and long simmered chiles, deep in flavor with just a touch of spicy heat to keep things interesting. And this gigantic tamale (really, big enough for a full meal) was $1.50. So, my thanks to New York, my favorite city, for being the only place in the world that one could find the best tamales in a bagel shop that is being sued by the Transit Authority for copyright infringement.

The World's Greatest Tamale