The shoreline of HG and BSK’s ocean front home on Prince Edward Island is often laden with seaweed. Alas, not of the edible variety. HG implores those who do not imbibe of seaweed to explore. Plenty of tasty Chinese, Japanese and Korean seafood recipes on the internet. HG loves the seaweed salad that’s available at Whole Foods. HG likes to cut slivers of dry nori over cold soba noodles. Some Hawaiian Mochiko chicken recipes call for combining nori with marinated chicken in a savory fried chicken dish. HG loves the fried seaweed served in many London Chinese restaurants (a passion shared by the great journalist, Calvin Trillin).
A big plus. Not only is seaweed delicious, seaweed is good for you. REALLY good for you. The Japanese eat lots of it and some nutritionists credit seaweed with lowering the rate of colon cancer in Japan. So crunch away on a sheet of roasted, Korean Nori, toss a few Sea Berries in your mouth and nosh on a fine dish of wakame salad — your taste-buds and and your colon will thank you!
Spelling error. HG posted information about the toe tapping, fun filled musical event that is a feature of every Prince Edward Island community (large or small). HG described it as a Ceiligh (pronounced Kay-lee). Proper spelling is Ceilidh. Daughter LR, always on the alert, pointed out the error. Thanks, LR and sorry Devoted Followers of HG, who prize HG’s spelling accuracy and bravura prose.
Cuisine plays a big role in the work of two writers of crime fiction — Rex Stout and Lawrence Sanders. Stout, the creator of the cerebral private investigator/gourmand, Nero Wolfe, gives the reader full accounts of the meals prepared by Wolfe’s chef, Fritz. Fritz was a master of haute cuisine and the intricate details provided by Stout were quite appetite provoking. At one point, Stout wrote and published a book of Wolfe’s favorite recipes which was never read by HG as HG is no fan of elaborate cuisine and time consuming kitchen procedures. Sanders, on the other hand, favored plebeian fare in his fictions. HG particularly likes the “wet sandwiches” constructed by one of his protagonists, Francis X. Delaney. Brimming with sardines, tomatoes, onions, etc., these tasty items have to be eaten over the kitchen sink to avoid general messiness.
Ach…how could HG leave out all of the excellent food that saturates Donna Leon’s Venetian mysteries? Ms. Leon’s protagonist, Commisario Guido Brunetti, sure likes his vittles. His wife, Paola, sets a delicious table for Guido and their children, Raffi and Chiara. HG rarely comes to the end of a Brunetti case without cooking up a batch of linguine aglio e olio (dusted with a nice batch of chopped parsley).
Far from the gritty, urban milieu of detective fiction, Laura Ingalls Wilder used to make young HG’s palate tingle with her descriptions of farm food in the “Little House On the Prairie” books. There were extensive descriptions of the preparation and eating of smoked venison, cured hams and, best of all, a simply mouth watering (and mighty mysterious to a young, Bronx Jew) exegesis on “Johnnycakes” flavored with pork cracklings. HG was not the only one riveted by Wilder’s descriptions. In Michael Ruhlman’s and Bran Polcyn’s great cookbook “Charcuterie: The Craft of Salting, Smoking and Curing” the two give Ingall’s “Little House In The Big Woods” much attention.
Alas, like a great tease, Georges Simenon’s Inspector Maigret pauses at many cafes and bistros in his yarns but there are no memorable mentions of food. (Many Parisian cafes and bistros claim to be the hangouts of the fictional sleuth).
Alan Furst, who specializes in spy thrillers set in Europe just before the beginning of World War Two, pays some attention to Paris brasserie food (particularly in his yummy descriptions of the fictional Brasserie Heinegger ) but his heroes seem more interested in sexual dalliance (taking excessive time out, in HG’s opinion, from their dangerous spy maneuvers) than serious noshing.
But, the best book about dining is the non-fiction “Between Meals: An Appetite For Paris,” A.J. Liebling’s memoir of his life in pre-World War Two Paris. Also worth reading are the various books by M.F.K. Fisher (pay no attention to her recipes–they are inferior).
Seems like everyone —young and old, male and female– on this very Celtic Prince Edward Island plays a musical instrument (mainly fiddle and guitar). And, those that can’t, sing and step dance in lusty fashion. Every town has a weekly Ceiligh (pronounced Kay-lee). This is a traditional Gaelic social gathering with Gaelic folk music and dancing Though it originated in Ireland, Ceilighs are prevalent throughout the Irish and Scottish diaspora (exemplified by PEI). HG and BSK reveled in the sounds of Celtic music on the banks of Rollo Bay at the annual Rollo Bay Fiddlers Festival. This was toe tapping music supreme.
As HG neither dances, sings, fiddles and can barely manage a hand clap in rhythm, he pitched in by consuming an impressive amount of nice, home style, pan fried haddock sandwiches.
HG and BSK are camping out at a very kind neighbor’s guest house while the interior of HG and BSK’s fire damaged ocean front home is being restored. Last night dinner was perfect. Radio was tuned to CBC (Canadian Broadcasting–the up North version of NPR). The usual civilized, thoughtful commentary. This time it was an irreverent and informed program on Canada and religion. HG sipped gin and Campari while BSK has some summer Rose’. A bit of Nova Scotia smoked salmon and sliced, sweet onion. BSK did a stir fry of local asparagus, garlic and red pepper flakes. Topped it with a pound of thick, flavorful sauteed sole fillets. Dessert was brie with Theresa of PEI’s Pumpkin and Apricot Chutney. Theresa is one of the many artisans on the Island turning out small batches of extraordinary food. As the cliche would have it, her Chow Chow is to die for.
And now, the news from Prince Edward Island, Canada. Here in the town of St. Peters, the strip of land on the shores of St. Peter’s Bay, folks are justifiably proud of their mussels. They are farmed in the Bay and you can see the colored buoys marking the socks to which the mussels cling. PEI mussels are definitely the plumpest, cleanest and most flavorful of the species.
The Number Two Good Thing From The Sea at St. Peter’s is the lobster. The lobster catching season in HG’s neighborhood ( Cable Head East) is June. That means lots of very good, cheap lobster. After the season, boats from Nova Scotia arrive daily to unload their catch. HG picks out a big, cooked juicy lobster at a nearby fish store (Cost: Ten bucks). Corn on the cob, a sliced tomato, lobster. The perfect summer meal.
Flying to Prince Edward Island, HG experienced the usual discomfort and sheer madness of air travel these days. Changes in flight times. Flight cancellations. Hostile, invasive and downright unnecessary security procedures. However, there is always (say optimists) a silver lining. HG had to spend the night in Toronto so opted for the Sandman Signature Hotel a few minutes from the airport. Super. New and in contemporary good taste. Very good bed, shower, flat screen TV, etc. For breakfast HG had something that is difficult to obtain in most hotels and diners: A bowl of real, nutty, steel cut oatmeal. Not the instant glop. With it was a big bran muffin that tasted fresh from the oven. Sandman is a keeper. More silver linings. A long wait at airport for PEI plane. HG watched the super exciting USA women battling Brazil. USA won but Marta, the swift and deft Brazilian, has joined HG’s pantheon of feminine paragons. HG was nourished at Fion MacCool, a quasi-Irish pub at the airport. Pub might be faux but the hamburger was for real. High quality meat served the way HG likes it–slightly pink. Layered with cheese, sliced tomatoes, sliced dill pickle and frizzled fried onions. Major league burger. Guinness on tap was welcome.
HG has often devoted some lyrical prose to the triumphs of Jewish/ Eastern European/ Ashkenazi cuisine. Smoked fish; bialys and bagels. Savory brisket with lots of gravy. Real pastrami. Matzo ball soup. Chopped liver (don’t spare the chicken fat and top it with grieben–bits of rendered fat chicken skin); tzimmes (a pungent, caramelized carrot stew); karnatzlack (cigar shaped broiled hamburgers studded with onion and garlic). Many other meaty, fragrant, hearty dishes. And, of course, all the “Dairy” delicacies HG posted about earlier.
However, objectivity forces HG to mention some culinary travesties of the Chosen Few: Lungen stew. Essentially, this was cow’s lung stewed with garlic and onions. Tasted like thick rubber bands. Another was (HG spells phonetically from Yiddish): P’tcha. This was a kosher version of the French tete de veau. Nu. Nu. Don’t ask. Don’t even look.
Then there were the vegetables served in Jewish restaurants (kosher and non-kosher). Canned carrotsandpeas. Pronounced as one word. Nasty stuff. Limp string beans. Equally terrible. HG believes this was a bow to American ideas of healthy eating. Sammy’s, the chicken fat-drenched eatery on the Lower East Side, deals in nostalgia and garlic. Outside of fried potatoes and chopped eggplant, there isn’t a vegetable on the menu. Nary a lettuce leaf. Brave Sammy’s refuses to participate in the American version of healthy eating. HG fears Bloomberg may ban it.
When HG and BSK ran their small (but high powered) Denver public relations firm, HG dined almost every day at the Denver location of the Palm steak house chain. This wasn’t just a restaurant. It was a business club where the town’s top lawyers, bankers, politicos, real estate developers, political consultants (and PR guys) gathered to do business, schmooze and network. Kingpin of the room was Steve Farber, lawyer, lobbyist, Democratic Party fund raiser and a guy who was involved in just about everything happening in Colorado. Steve would always stop at HG’s table so he and HG could exchange compliments on the elegance of each other’s garb. Like the original Palm on Second Avenue and 44th Street in New York, the Denver Palm was decorated with caricatures of local notables. There was a nice, flattering caricature of HG in a prominent position. HG always sat beneath it. Impressed potential clients.
There was some good lunch food. Sliced sirloin on a tasty bed of greens. Salmon fillet in a lemon butter sauce. Crab cakes. A traditional Reuben. There was also avoidable, overcooked pasta. And, a surprise (which HG mentioned in an earlier post), excellent little neck clams on the half shell. Haven’t been there in a while and wonder if they’ve painted over HG to make room for a new generation of movers and shakers.
Thank God for Flushing. In that noble Queens neighborhood, cheap rents in the warrens of underground food courts and back alleys allow purveyors of obscure, Chinese regional cuisine the chance to thrive. And if they do in fact thrive the next step is to take their goods to Manhattan’s Chinatown.
Thus, Flushing’s Henan Feng Wei — lauded by heroic restaurant critic Robert Sietsema — recently opened an outpost at 68 Forsyth St named He Nan Flavor. Again, thank you Flushing!
Henan is a northwest province in China and He Nan Flavor celebrates the food found in the night markets of Zhengzhou, the capital city. Forget about typical Cantonese fare, this is a bold stuff that reflects Henan’s Middle Eastern and Sichuan influences.
The first dish I tried was the “Pancake with Pork” which just that — a crispy, griddled hot-cake dotted with sesame seeds and stuffed with anise tinged minced pork and cilantro. Not a bad treat for $2!
Next up was a dish called “Spicy Chicken Hui Mei” which was just remarkable. A huge bowl filled with hand pulled, chewy, wide noodles covered with stewed chicken. These noodles come lathered in a sauce of red chili oil, Sichuan peppercorns, tiger lily bulbs and cumin seeds. It was a taste explosion. While the chili oil added a satisfying burn, the Sichuan peppercorns have a narcotic, numbing effect and great flavor — but it is the earthiness of the cumin seeds layered against those pleasantly chewy noodles and stewed chicken that makes the dish something to dream about on a cold, winter day.
On further visits, I tried the Lamb with Lo Mein Soup — which was those same amazing noodles in a milky broth redolent of lamb and an under tone of anise. Powerfully addictive. I also tried their boiled dumplings which come 15 to an order!!!! No dish here tops out over $6 and it is a generally clean and cheerful place with attentive owners who have a real pride and seem genuinely happy that you have decided to dine with them. On the wall there is a photo of a dish called “Big Tray of Chicken” — I will be back!
