HUNGRY GERALD

A bowl of ice cold, flavorful soup on a hot summer day. Nothing can be better. HG has enjoyed gazpacho, cucumber soup, carrot soup — all frigid treats. HG remembers with fondness his mother’s sweet, sour and bright red beet borscht. Served cold, it softened to pink when tablespoons of thick sour cream were stirred into it. HG’s mom also made mouth puckering Schav, a sorrel soup which was always accompanied by a hot boiled potato. HG was never fond of French Vichyssoise. Too much sweet cream. Stultifying rather than refreshing.

This week HG has been experiencing (as New Mexico battles horrible forest fires) the ultimate cold soup — nourishing and soulful. The soup was prepared by HG’s Santa Fe friend, Vicki Buckingham, a vegetarian who does exquisite things with the products of the earth. Vicki claims her soup has a Polish origin and HG can discern some East European elements in it. Here’s the recipe for what HG call’s “Vicki’s Miracle Heat Beater”: Using a blender or food processor, blend five small tomatoes with a tablespoon of vinegar (cider or rice) plus salt and pepper. When smooth add the pureed tomatoes to a quart of buttermilk and chill in the refrigerator. Serve with bowls of four cooked medium beets (cut into slivers); six finely chopped scallions; a cubed and seeded cucumber; chopped hard boiled eggs; lots of chopped dill. Diners add these ingredients to suit their taste. (HG likes to top it off with a dash of cayenne pepper).

When not making soup, Vicki is a practitioner of the Feldenkrais Method. The Method increases a person’s range of movement and flexibility (among other positive results). Vicki worked her Feldenkrais magic on BSK and BSK swears by it. You can learn more about Vicki and Feldenkrais (and soup): victoriabuckingham@gmail.com.

Jubilat Provisions sits smack dab on the blocks (dubbed “South Slope” by real estate agents) where the cachet of Park Slope gently blends into the Mexican/Chinese mosh up of Sunset Park. It is a tiny temple for the worship of smoked and prepared pork products of all kinds. In other words, it is a classic Polish deli simply jammed with house made and house smoked sausages, bacons, and force-meats. There is a line of hard, grizzled thin sausages that range from lightly smoked (pinkesque) to triple smoked (dark and snapping with flavor) and are basically the best Slim Jims you could ever eat. There are Kielbasa in a range of sizes and flavors (spicy, garlicky, fresh, double smoked and one thick and short like a tough, Slavic Bologna). There is a ridiculously juicy Black Forest Ham; the greatest bacon; smoked pork loins; head cheese, liverwurst; a rolled, stuffed veal thing with parsley that almost killed me with pleasure when I paired it with boiled, new potatos. The butchers are all Polish and don’t speak much English and actually aren’t that interested in explaining what everything is….Which is better! That way you can just lose yourself and basically order a little bit of everything. They make all of this in house, so everything is fresh and nitrate free — they also make stews, soups, vats of pickles and sauerkraut and once I came in and there were about 15 different smoked fishes on newspapers that were amongst the best I have ever had. And — here’s the kicker — its cheap. I mean REALLY cheap!!! I have bought BAGS of stuff there and never gone over seventy bucks. It is an inspiration. These guys are artisans, old school butchers, examples of real, local food-ways and they don’t feel the need to have tattoos of pigs on their necks, and weird 1910 mustaches, and charge $20 a pound for “house-cured” bacon like this whole new realm of hipster butcher/food producers. Why? Because the Jubilat guys are part of their community, they are FEEDING their community with reasonably priced GREAT, homemade food.

I digress. The politics of food and community are interesting but not as interesting as a quick tip if you ever make it over to Jubilat. Basically buy a spread of smoked meats and make sure to include the bacon, a kielbasa (or many types of kielbasa), some frankfurter and whatever else catches your eye. Buy a bunch of sauerkraut, a jar of super strong Polish mustard and truck back to your house with a dry Riesling and bunch of friends. Cook the sauerkraut with onion, a cup or two of that Riesling (add some juniper berries if you can!) and some new potatoes. Layer the smoked meats on top and basically by the time the potatos are cooked through you have one of the great meals of all time. Crack open some dark beers, cheer the noble men of Jubilat, and get to work…thank HG and SJ later.

Jubilat Provisions – 608 5th Ave – Brooklyn, NYC

It was a great party and Riverside, R.I. rocked. More than 60 people gathered to celebrate the graduation of granddaughters, Ms. A. and Ms. S.. There was lots of tangy sangria to drink and daughter LR provided guacamole, Caprese salad; the very best fusili salad; cumin and garlic flavored grilled chicken; chicken satay and other good things.

But, the stars with oak leaf cluster had to go to the Brooklyn Bombshells, SJ and Exquisite Maiko. Big Boss of Brooklyn Bar-Bee-Q SJ brought along his smoker and logs of white oak. There were ribs and pulled pork. HG is at a loss (almost) for words. SJ’s ribs had a kinship to the dry rubbed Memphis ribs served at Corky’s and other Tennessee establishments. But, better. Much better. SJ ribs had heat, spice, juice, tenderness. Incomparable. Big ribs. HG grabbed four before the crowd discovered the treat. The pulled pork? Juicy. Smoky. Just lush piggy that needed just a touch of SJ’s spicy sauce and LR’s cole slaw.

Maiko provided shrimp summer rolls A gossamer rice paper wrapper enclosed shrimp, ribbons of egg, slivers of carrot and Soba noodles. Thoughtful Maiko also provided a vegetarian version for the shrimp intolerant. She also made a rice noodle salad, Vegetables sliced into needle-like proportions. Shrimp. Maiko’s unique dressing.

A saintly guest provided HG’s favorite dessert: English Trifle. Fresh fruit, sponge cake and lots of whipped cream. The party brought graduation week to a lovely close. But, not quite.

The next night was Senior Prom for Ms. A. and photos revealed that she and escort looked like movie stars.

There’s a Yiddish word–“naches”. Naches is the pleasure one derives from the accomplishments of one’s children. Last week, HG and BSK bathed in a warm pool of naches.

Last night, Gifted Daughter LR made an unusual pesto: arugula, walnuts, garlic, chives and olive oil. Mixed it with spaghetti, cherry tomatoes, parsley and quick-sauteed asparagus. Nice summery flavors.

HG arrived at waterfront home of Gifted Daughter LR and Profesore/ Dottore MR in Riverside, R.I.. After lengthy travel from Santa Fe, HG was truly hungry….and thirsty. Awaiting HG was a bottle of Vinho Verde (the semi-sparkling, delicious “new” wine of the Minho region of Portugal) and Gifted Daughter LR’s version of a crab and avocado salad (really a nautical guacamole). This is an HG favorite. It was followed by a garlicky stew of Rhode Island clams (best in the world), shrimp and Italian sausage which was served on a bed of creamy polenta. Great bread. Two Vermont cheeses. White grapes.

Dining a La Famiglia. Beats any restaurant.

Liederkranz is HG’s favorite cheese. It is a cousin of German Limburger (but, not as outrageously stinky). Powerful. pungent stuff. Best when the yellow crust turns a bit golden and the ivory interior darkens and gets slightly runny. To be metaphoric: If a ripe Camembert is a clarinet, a ripe Liederkranz is a tuba.

This robust stuff was a staple in cheese sections of New York groceries (and certainly in the midwest). In 1985 it disappeared. No explanation. Just gone.

The good news is that it’s back and you can get it online from DCI Cheese Company, who acquired the original cultures to make this fine cheese. O, happy day!

Some history: Liederkranz was created in the 1860’s by Emile Frey of Monroe, N.Y. New York’s German immigrants loved the cheese, especially the hearty members of the Liederkranz Club, guys who met to sing. Thus, the name.

When late autumn and winter descends, a fire will be crackling in HG’s living room fireplace. Pro football will be on the TV. Liderkranz, raw onions, sour garlic dills, German liver sausage, pumpernickel bread and cold Belgian ale will be in front of HG. Can hardly wait for the weather to change.

Clam. HG does love that briny bivalve. The love affair began decades ago at the Harbor Rest fast food and sea food joint on Jamaica Bay in New York’s Rockaway Park — at the time, the proletarian Hamptons. HG, 13-years-old, was employed as an oyster and clam shucker (also a peeler and de-veiner of shrimp). HG ate a lot of clams. His mantra: One for the boss and one for me. HG’s oyster passion developed later. Boyish passions subside but not HG’s clam lust. HG ate scores at Lundy’s located at Brooklyn’s Sheepshead Bay. He downed them at Nathan’s in Coney Island; at Manhattan’s Grand Central Oyster Bar. HG refers to raw clams (cherrystones and little necks ) on the half shell. HG has always fancied clams (and oysters) unadorned. Maybe a modest squeeze of lemon. No beverage but beer. Lundy’s served its raw clams with hot, buttered, straight-from-the oven biscuits — HG never complained.

When HG lived in Colorado HG began his daily lunch at the Palm Restaurant with six little necks (some 1,500 miles from the Atlantic but surprisingly sweet and fresh…go figure). HG has never neglected cooked clams, preferably as part of Italian cuisine….clams posillipo (clam broth enriched with tomatoes); Linguini with white clam sauce; clams casino (light on the bread crumbs, heavy on the garlic, bacon strip optional). HG is not a big clam chowder fan. HG finds New England style overpowers clams and Manhattan style is simply inedible. The best is light clam chowder served at the Legal Seafood chain in New England (an excellent purveyor of clams and oysters).

A great clam dish was sauteed clam bellies at the late, great Gage & Tollner’s in Brooklyn. HG is a fan of the fried soft shell clams available a scores of New England shacks. When resident at the family beach home on Prince Edward Island, HG downs scores of steamers, cleansed in broth and dipped in Tabasco-enhanced melted butter.

As stated in a previous post, the true clam heaven was Fire Island, the magical barrier beach that stretches for miles off Long Island between Great South Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. After a day of Fire Island beach and sea fun, the HG family and friends would arm themselves with buckets and wade into the Bay. It was a clam bonanza. Following would be raw clams, clams casino and BSK’s extraordinary white clam sauce adorning bowls of linguini fini. The HG and BSK dune house overlooked the Bay and Ocean. Sunsets. Infinite whitecaps. Many martinis. Much beer and cheap, cold white wine. A jolly, sunburned time. Happy memories.

HG first encountered the Rhode Island treat, Del’s Frozen Lemonade on the bike path between Warren and Bristol. Steamy July day. Very sweaty HG pedaling away. Dry throat. Sweaty brow. And, like a heavenly vision there was a Del’s lemonade stand at a street crossing. The frozen lemonade was extraordinary. Thirst was conquered by this icy treat which hit the perfect notes between sweet and tart.

Good news. You can order the fixings for Del’s Frozen Lemonade online. Do it and you will be well prepared for the scorching days of summer. And, if you are fortunate enough to live in Brooklyn (rapidly becoming one of the world’s food capitals) you can sample Del’s at Aunt Butchie’s Desserts.

The Delucia family of Rhode Island founded Del’s. The frozen beverage originated in Naples. (Italy, of course, not Florida).

HG and BSK off to Rhode Island in early June for a big time family celebration. The occasion: Graduation Day for granddaughters—Arianna from Moses Brown (High School) and Sofia from The Gordon School (Middle School). Beautiful, brilliant, funny, delightful young women. HG and BSK’s cup of love and pride runneth over…

So, let’s eat. SJ will be smoking ribs, pork shoulders and brisket. Exquisite Maiko, the daughter-in-law from heaven, will be doing Japanese cuisine (with an assist from grandson Haru). Italian and seafood treats will be handled by daughter Lesley R. and grill master Profesore/Dottore Massimo R. There will be side visits to Hemenway’s for raw oysters and clams on the half shell and possibly a foray to Flo’s Clam Shack for a super fry.

Local treats not to be missed: snail salad, New York System Hot Wieners and the alleged Chow Mein sandwiches at Lee’s Chinese Restaurant.

If time allows HG might knock off a grilled pizza at the bar of Al Forno. Yummy times, indeed.

Friends…When a Soup Dumpling calls, you might as well just give in, because really there is no escape. A Soup dumpling or a Xiao Long Bao to be proper, is a pork and crab meatball wrapped in a pleated wrapper of flour dough which is then steamed. The meatball is infused with a solidified ge’lee of broth, so that when it steams, this ge’lee reverts back to soup. When properly made (which is tough as a lot can go wrong! A soup dumpling requires MAXIMUM timing, freshness and technique) the end product hits the pinnacle of taste sensations; silken wrappers, rich soup, delectable meatball. When I first encountered this treat back in the late 90s at the famous Joe’s Shanghai, I went crazy. I found myself there at least twice a week with steamer after steamer arriving to fulfill my seemingly unquenchable Xiao Long Bao lust. I became an expert at deftly transporting the delicate dumpling from steamer to spoon without rupturing the delicate skin and losing the soup; I developed a methodology of cooling, adding ginger, red chile, malt vinegar and finally slurping that maximized my enjoyment — a methodology I adhere to and try to extort others to follow. Witness the family of Texans that told me to “mind your own business! We know how to eat!” when I tried to explain the ground rules of soup dumpling etiquette as they were attacking their treasures with forks and losing all the unctuous broth. In short I had a problem, and that problem took me a few years to finally reign it in. Which I did…Barely.

There is a new restaurant that has opened up on Bowery, right by the entrance to the Manhattan Bridge. I pass it every day. Right above the door is a grand billboard, a high resolution image of a perfect Soup Dumpling — white wrapper crested with the orange roe of a Hairy Crab. You can sense the soup bubbling inside, the heat and deliciousness coming together…

It took only two days. I couldn’t help myself. I grabbed my wife, Exquisite Maiko and headed for lunch at our favorite Soup Dumpling spot, Shanghai Cafe. I would have tried, and will try the new spot — but when the call of the dumpling was this severe, I could not risk disappointment.

When the first steamer basket arrived Exquisite Maiko and I sighed. Eight perfect dumplings encased in steam. I lifted the first up, gently placed it on my spoon and nipped off the top of the dumpling. Using a spoon (which you have to ask for!) I dripped some vinegar and shredded ginger into the center of my dumpling. Preparing myself for the scalding, delectable heat, I then slurped up the broth. With something that can only be described as sensual, that rich broth flooded my senses…I took a breath and then devoured the dumpling skin and the interior meatball. Silken. Rich. Layers of pork flavors mingling with the heady inclusion of crab and that final tang of vinegar. A perfect bite. A bite for the ages.

The soup dumpling had called. We had answered. Let the obsession roll once again!