HUNGRY GERALD

When BSK’s late, worldly, maternal grandmother received the grim news that BSK was going to marry HG, a Jew, she commented: “Well, there are three good things about Jews. They never hit their wives. They’re good with money. And, they don’t drink.” After many years of marriage (51 in upcoming July), HG often reminds BSK: “Hey, two out of three isn’t a bad batting average.” That’s because HG does drink. A lot. That means one (sometimes two) cocktails before dinner (tequila, vodka, rum are the basics with additions of lemon juice and either Aperol, Angostura Bitters or Campari). White wine with a few caper berries or Kalamata olives as an appetizer. Abundant red wine with dinner (or beer if the dishes are Mexican or Indian). After dinner TV watching companion is a brandy snifter of Bushmill’s Irish Honey Whiskey. Of course, this liquid regimen is frowned upon by the health police. But, in HG’s defense, this is preceded by New Mexico sunshine and pure air plus 15 minutes on HG’s stretching machine and one hour of swimming in the lap pool. There is also the loving and caring presence of BSK. And, that is a priceless deposit in HG’s bank of good health.

No, HG is not shedding tears for the billionaire, but it appears to HG that Donald Sterling is a victim (as well as a villain). In a private conversation with his girlfriend, Sterling said he didn’t want her to associate with African-Americans, be photographed with them or bring them to basketball games. Not nice. But, hell, as the saying goes: “It’s a free country.” If everyone is penalized for politically incorrect, sexist, salacious, etc. things they have said in private conversation we would be in a terrible fix. Obviously, given the racial composition of the NBA and the importance of basketball in African-American culture, NBA Commissioner Adam Silver had to act swiftly and punish Sterling to the fullest extent possible. HG’s moral exemplar, HG’s late father, Hershele Zvi Freimann, hated these humans: Nazis, communists, informers, strikebreakers and scabs….and landlords. His comment on Sterling, who made his money as a landlord, would be: “Nu? What can you expect from a landlord?”

SJ and family–wife Exquisite Maiko, son Haru (age 7) and daughter Teru (age 2)–are here in New Mexico for Passover/Easter vacation. Among the joys for HG is hanging out with Haru, a quirky, original, fascinating fellow. Unlike his father, a guy who likes to cook and eat (a barbecue specialist), and his mother, a super skilled chef (more about her in a following post), Haru is not (understatement) passionate about food. Ribs, pizza, pasta, ice cream bars are his staples and when not available nourishes himself with milk and cookies. Despite his limited menu (and limited protein intake), Haru has plenty of physical and intellectual energy. While in New Mexico, Haru paddles about the lap pool for hours, hikes in the Barrancas (scenic cliffs) with his father, feeds the fish in HG/BSK’s somewhat murky pond, helps HG make the nightly blaze in the fireplace (Haru has dubbed himself “Prince of Fire”). When truly interested in a subject, Haru’s memory and concentration are startling. His latest interest is the American Presidency. Last night he recited, in chronological order, all of the American Presidents. Even the obscure (Pierce, Fillmore, Tyler, Arthur, etc.) were remembered with laser-like precision. For the next hour, Haru entertained everyone with little known facts about the Presidents. Fascinating. When HG has a little guy like Haru around, HG reaps rich grandpop rewards.

So, HG was sunbathing below blue New Mexican skies before entering the HG/BSK pool house for a lengthy swim in the lap pool. As the sun warmed HG’s bones, HG thought of the enslaved Jews laboring for the Pharoahs in Egypt. This steered the HG mind (no surprise) in the direction of food, namely the menu for the Seder this week. A Seder is the traditional reading from the Hagadah (the story of the Jews’ escape from Egypt). The Hagadah reading is accompanied by lots of food and wine as is traditional in Jewish holidays because, well, the overall feeling regarding the horrors of the Jewish past is: “They tried to kill us. They failed. So let’s eat a lot.” Words to live and eat by. It is traditional to start the Seder meal with gefilte fish (a form of Eastern European Jewish quenelles). HG is happy to report the discovery of really good jarred gefilte fish. This is Mrs. Adler’s Pike ‘n Whitefish. Nice, slightly coarse structure. Home made taste. Nice fish broth that jells beautifully. Label says there is “artificial flavor” but knowledgeable HG couldn’t discern it. Gefilte fish is bland unless accompanied by powerful horseradish. HG found killer horseradish on the shelves of Sprouts Supermarket in Santa Fe. The label says: Fresh Ground Horseradish. Good-n-Hot. There is no brand name but there is a website: silverspringfoods.com. Main dish should be roast chicken or brisket. Two kugels (puddings): Potato and noodle. A vegetable? HG would like some grated carrots cooked with cinnamon, ginger and honey (This is tzimmes, a dish HG’s Mom cooked with an abundance of chicken feet. Let’s skip the feet this time). To finish: Honey cake, macaroons and Slivovitz (plum brandy). SJ and family will be present for the Seder. Handsome Haru will ask the traditional Four Questions (They concern why the Seder night is different from any other night). Some traditions will be observed. The Afikomen (a gift of money) will be searched for by Handsome Haru and Adorable Teru. Fear not. They will be found because of helpful hints from BSK. A glass of wine will be on the table for the Prophet Elijah. Who knows? This may be the year the thirsty Prophet appears.

From HG (an old guy), here are some wise words that may help meet the adversities of old age: One. HEALTH. Joan Erikson, noted psychologist and wife of famed psychologist and author Eric Erikson, wrote (when she was in her 80’s): “When you get older, even the simple activities of daily living may present difficulty. One must adapt. With whatever tact and wisdom we can muster, disabilities must be accepted with lightness and humor.” Two. BE SENSIBLE. Damon Runyon paraphrased Ecclesiastes thusly: “The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but that’s how the smart money bets.” Three. GRASP PLEASURE. Heed the Italian advice: “Life is short and brutish. The end is painful. So, in the meantime, let’s have a good meal.”

HG has always loved roasted, salted pistachios. When HG was a little fellow growing up in The Bronx, HG and beloved older sister, the late Beulah Naomi Katz, would stroll the Grand Concourse. Always stopped at J.S Krum Ice Cream Parlor. Picked up a generous bag of pistachios for munching during our perambulation. In those days, pistachio shells were always, for no apparent reason, dyed red (the pigment stained our fingers). Sometimes a bag of pistachios accompanied HG and Beulah during a movie matinee at Loew’s Paradise on the Concourse, one of the great movie palaces. SJ is aware of his father’s love of pistachios. One of SJ’s Christmas gifts for HG was a big bag of Turkish pistachios from Sahadi’s, the middle eastern food emporium on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn. The best pistachios ever — lighter, crunchier and more concentrated in flavor than typical brands (you can buy them online from Sahadi’s). HG likes to eat them with the last of dinner red wine accompanied by Medjool dates and Mascarpone (or Roquefort) cheese. Also nice with Port. If you are in Brooklyn, be sure to visit Sahadi’s. Be astonished at the vast array of olives, spices and good things from the middle east.

There are some supermarket staples that are splendid, unchanging and need no improvements. They define what they are, beat back all challengers and laugh at innovation. They are so basic that we have the tendency to know just the substance and not the manufacturer. Some examples: Ketchup (Heinz); Mayonnaise (Hellmans); Tabasco (McIlhenny); English Muffins (Thomas); Worcestershire Sauce (Lea & Perrins). Sadly, much of what clutters supermarket aisles consists of “snacks”, sugary junk, sodas and “energy drinks” and should be flagged like cigarettes, with skull and cross bones warning: “Harmful To Your Health.” That said, there are a few items of negligible nutritional value that HG cannot resist: Keebler’s Club Crackers, Pepperidge Farm Thin Sliced White Bread, Uncle Ben’s Long Grain Rice. And, from the frozen foods case: Haagen Dasz (their salted caramel gelato and dulce de leche ice cream are really special). Bubbie’s very superior pickles were only found at Whole Foods but are now sneaking into some lower priced grocery stores. Sriracha from Huy Fong Foods is now omnipresent. Much applause from HG. No food remains bland while that hot chili sauce is at hand.

Last night, BSK placed a platter of delectable adobo dusted pork chops on the table and anoounced: “P’ok chops.” HG replied: “Thanks, Daisy Mae.” Older followers of Hungry Gerald know this was a reference to Li’l Abner, the immensely popular and influential comic strip created by Al Capp (1909-1979). Since the strip ceased publication in 1977 after a 43-year run, younger folks might not be familiar. L’il Abner was set in the impoverished mountain town of Dogpatch, Arkansas. L’il Abner, a strapping and guileless youth, was a member of the Yokum family of hillbillies. Daisy Mae Scraggs, a shapely lass in flimsy clothing, tried (to no avail) to marry Abner. The innocent lad was oblivious. His major interest was his favorite dish: “P’ok chops.” The strip featured numerous imaginatively named characters: “Moonbeam McSwine”–a gorgeous girl who liked to loll about with pigs; “Evil Eye Fleegle”–a zoot suited New Yorker capable of giving adversaries the “whammy”; “Senator Phogbound”–a Dixiecrat windbag; “Stupefyin’ Jones” –a woman so beautiful she reduced men to instant paralysis after one glimpse; “J. Roaringham Fatback”–the quintessential greedy capitalist; “The Scraggs”—Daisy Mae’s terrible (shudder) relatives who lived in Skunk Hollow; “Joe Bftplsk” –the unlucky guy who lived under a perpetual black cloud. One of Capp’s inventions was the Shmoos, loveable, ham shaped creatures who fulfilled all food needs: They produced excellent milk and butter; when roasted or baked they tasted like ham or pork; when fried, they tasted like chicken; when broiled, they tasted like steak. Capp’s characters became part of the American language and folklore. He even spawned an event: Sadie Hawkins Day. Two examples of Li’l Abner influence: An unattractive neighborhood in Fire Island, the lovely barrier beach off New York’s Long Island, is known to the present day as “Skunk Hollow.” BSK spent a number of years guiding the public/media/government/community relations of developer Greg Stevinson as he successfully built a vast, diversified retail-office-residential community on a large family land holding — sneeringly dubbed “Dogpatch” before BSK came along and worked her magic. At its height, the Li’l Abner strip reached 60,000,000 Americans in 900 newspapers and appeared in 100 foreign periodicals in 28 countries. It spawned a movie and a Broadway musical (Julie Newmar played Stupefyin’ Jones and became a star without saying a word). John Updike called the character, Li’l Abner, “a modern Candide” and John Steinbeck suggested Al Capp for a Nobel Prize in Literature. HG is sorry the strip no longer exists. The hedge funders, oligarchs, sexist bigots and nay saying-Republicans could use a blast of Capp’s withering satirical wit.

During HG’s many years as a public relations expert HG interacted with many important architects and interior designers (HG has particularly pleasant memories of the renowned architect Mies van der Rohe and the interior designer Jay Spectre — both deceased). HG has continued to be interested in architecture and design. Some 300 books on these subjects (as well as 30-years worth of World of Interiors magazine) adorn (or clutter) HG/BSK’s shelves. Viewing the latest James Bond extravaganza (HG misses Sean Connery), HG thought of previous Bond films, specifically Goldfinger. HG began humming the memorable theme song of the film and this led HG’s thoughts to Erno Goldfinger, the emigre architect who played an important role in bringing modernist architecture to Britain. Goldfinger designed and built 1-3 Willow Road, a group of very modern terraced houses adjacent to London’s Hampstead Heath. Goldfinger occupied one of these houses. They replaced some old cottages. This aroused the anger of Ian Fleming, writer of the James Bond novels. Some violent verbal battling between Fleming and Goldfinger. Fleming’s revenge was to name his gold-obsessed villain after Goldfinger (Fleming wanted to call his villain “Goldprick” but was talked out of it). Erno Goldfinger was continually maddened by telephone callers humming the “Goldfinger” movie theme. One of the other Willow Road houses (beautiful, clean lined interiors) was occupied by HG’s friend, the multi-talented Bob Judd, auto racing novelist (he is to auto racing what Dick Francis is to horse racing); poet; former ad executive. In his Goldfinger-designed kitchen, Bob once served HG/BSk a dinner of a poached Irish salmon with fennel braised in chicken broth and much butter. Memorable.

There has never been an in-depth culinary history of the American Presidency. HG thinks this would be a worthy task for a historian. It might provide a variety of cultural insights and make good reading. A food obsessive like HG would like to know what was served at state dinners and what Presidential families ate in the White House dining room. Did Calvin Coolidge spoon up New England clam chowder? Did Herbert Hoover and Richard Nixon (both California guys) predate Alice Waters with Golden State cuisine? What did George Washington chomp on with his wooden teeth? It turns out that Thomas Jefferson was a pasta fiend (importing both dried varieties and a pasta machine) who served Marcaroni with Parmesan cheese to his guests, but did this Italian bent extend to wines? No, it was French all the way (influenced by his residence in Paris). He was a regular importer of excellent vintages.Sure, LBJ and Bush Senior and Junior stressed their love for Texas barbecue but was this just politicking? We know that FDR and Eleanor served lousy food. We know Nixon liked cottage cheese with a splash of ketchup. We know Bill Clinton liked down home, good old boy food when he was on the road but what did he, Hillary and Chelsea nosh on in Washington? Was JFK and Jackie’s cuisine really that good or was it just fancy French? Michelle, with her emphasis on health, seems to have undermined the opportunity for Obama food pioneering. HG was hoping for some Chicago style soul food in the White House but this has been overwhelmed by kale and broccoli.