HUNGRY GERALD

For your illumination and enhancement HG provides you with a list of books by Peter Hellman:

(1) Chief!: These are case histories from the files of Al Seedman, former New York Chief of Detectives. Forget TV nonsense. This is the way detectives really work. 

(2) Avenue of the Righteous (Later re-issued and expanded as When Courage Was Stronger Than Fear ): This is a book to read when your opinion of the human race is at a low point. These are the astonishing stories of Christians who, at great risk to their lives, saved Jews during World War Two.

(3) The Auschwitz Album: Lest we forget, this is a rending book — 187 photos of Auschwitz with text by Hellman.

(4) American Wine Handbook: A book that tells you what you need to know if you want to drink great American wines.

(5) Heroes. Tales From the Israeli Wars: Exciting accounts of combat and heroism.

(6) Shaping the Skyline : The story of real estate visionary Julien J. Studley.

Now search for them on Amazon.com and thank me later.

A life enhancing, talented and fun loving quartet has been visiting HG and BSK. Here’s the cast: Donald K. and Bruce M., HG’s and BSK’s former business colleagues. Donald K’s wife, Susan, a former investment banker and Bruce M.’s companion, Theresa T., former senior executive at Ralph Lauren and Martha Stewart. These are folks who know and enjoy food and wine. So, what was on the table? Friday night there was a platter of Middle Eastern appetizers and then a Mariscada (Spanish seafood stew) of mussels, shrimp, scallops, much garlic and parsley cooked in fish stock, white wine and the juice from canned asparagus — a surprising secret ingredient gleaned from New York’s El Charro. Washed it down with glasses of Rose, Pinot Grigio and Barbera.

Light salad lunch on Saturday at Santa Fe’s Santacafe. Dinner was a feast at the much posted about “O” — Eating House. Appetizers of fried zucchini and home-made mozzarella with the first stewed cherries of the season; chorizo and roasted garlic; chunks of unusually spiced corn on the cob. Mini portions of strozzapreti (a name which translates to priest stranglers) in a beef cheeks sauce. Main dishes of duck confit and grilled quail accompanied by a sweet corn risotto. Dessert: bread pudding and creme brulee. Much Champagne, San Giovese, Malbec and Chianti flowed (possibly too much flowed in HG’s direction).

Brunch the next day on the sunny terrace featured BSK’s egg and cheese casserole. Farewell dinner tonight at Gabriel’s. Margaritas. Guacamole (best in New Mexico). Fajitas. Charro beans. Sopapillas. Sangria. Flan. Ole!!! And then, sadly, adios.Photo Courtesy of Steven Nereo

In addition to the Plaza Hotel’s Oak Room, HG , during the slim wallet early years of his marriage to BSK, had charge accounts at Fornos, the Spanish Restaurant on W. 52nd Street and the original Russian Tea Room on W. 57th. Fornos (long gone) was owned by survivors of the Spanish Civil War and was the most joyous eatery in town. HG and BSK were always greeted warmly and were served the best margaritas imaginable. BSK stopped at one. HG, alas, continued to drink them throughout the meal.

The food: Roast pork with addictive Spanish potatoes that were fried in duck fat and onions then dusted with smoked pimento; perfect gazpacho; seafood or chicken and chorizo paella; shrimp in a rich garlic sauce of fish stock and parsley; Mariscada (seafood stew); garlic rubbed sirloin steak with more of those addictive potatoes. Dessert (for HG) was one or two or possibly three banana daiquiris; For BSK, light as ether Flan — HG always needed a bit of assistance upon leaving Fornos. BSK did not.

At one point, HG’s charge grew to such proportions that HG ceased going to the restaurant out of shame. Call from the proprietor. HG thought there would be stern words. Instead, this is what he heard: “Where have you been? We miss you. You owe us money? Nada. Not important. We know you are an honorable man. You will pay us when you are able. Meanwhile, come in and let us have joy together.” HG paid up, of course, and continued to get sozzled at that merry and generous establishment.

A lasting peace between Arabs and Israelis. Decades of war and diplomacy have failed to bring it about. Yet, tonight at Chez HG/BSK harmony will reign between the two cultures as they make a bow to the troubled but tasty Middle East. Tel-Aviv style Falafel is brilliantly complemented by the smoky earthiness of BSK’s inimitable Baba Ganoush. Hummus dusted with Spanish piquant smoked paprika welcomes the coolness of Greek yogurt topped with za’atar. Olives. Cucumber. Chopped sweet onions and tomatoes with Sicilian olive oil (Sicilian cuisine much influenced by Arab occupation centuries ago). Lots of warm pita.

Dessert: More Greek yogurt with walnuts and New Mexico honey. The wine: A modest California Cabernet.

Peace reigns…In the stomach at least.

Mussels are a splendid food. Relatively inexpensive. Tasty. Healthy. But, heed HG: Only Prince Edward Island Mussels are worth eating. Like the Island itself, PEI mussels are a gentle taste underscored by a firm body. They are invariably sand and grit free and their mellow flavor marries perfectly with myriad sauces and preparations. Maine mussels seem to lack substance. New Zealand mussels are over sized and tasteless.

Here’s how HG prepares mussels: Soften onions and garlic in a spacious saute pan. When soft, add the mussels. Add a bottle of clam juice (or some fish stock if you have it) and some white wine. Mix with salt and red pepper flakes plus chopped Italian parsley. Cover. Turn up heat to moderate high and cook until the mussels are open. Top with some more parsley. You can serve these as a starter with some crusty bread to sop up the sauce; for something more substantial, cook some linguine and add the pasta to the steamed mussels.

Always cook more mussels than you can eat. Take the left overs out of their shells and refrigerate. Next day mix them with some mustard mayonnaise. You’ve got a great lunch or dinner appetizer.

The frozen in time New York bistro, Le Veau D’or, always served a big freebie of mussels in mustard mayonnaise. In days of yore, HG would consume them with an icy martini. That would be followed by Beaujolais and steak frites. Nice workday lunch. If HG attempted it today, HG would be off to slumberland before putting down knife and fork.

Just back from sunny morning at the Santa Fe Farmers Market. Bought lots of baby lettuce and field greens. Some nice Daikon radish. Healthy sprouts. Semolina pasta. Got some very mild, roasted green chiles for a pork stew. HG has become wary of native grown chile. What folks from Chimayo call “medium” can set a gringo on fire. But, the Santa Fe market isn’t just about food. There’s very good music ranging from bluegrass to classical cello. And, to understate, a very colorful crowd. Retired movie stars. Ex-hippies. Texas plutocrats. Followers of various gurus and spiritual guides. You name it, Santa Fe’s got it.

HG and BSK were active opponents of the Vietnam War, participants in every type of political action, demonstration and peace march. HG thought the “Domino Theory” was a hoax and that the trend in the Far East was toward Capitalism and not Communism. HG decried the waste of American (and Vietnamese) lives and the disruption and polarization of American society.

At the time HG made these predictions: North Vietnam would win and unify the country (The Vietminh, the Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese Army were fighting in and for their country and were perfectly capable of continuing the conflict for decades). Vietnam would become a tourist destination. The United States would get a lot of splendid Vietnamese restaurants.

A very prescient HG. Political sage HG doesn’t know the eventual outcome of the current middle east turmoil but can safely predict the US will gain lots of restaurants featuring tasty kebabs and other delicacies of the region.

Zero Mostel portrait on last post spurred HG thoughts about that comic genius/egomaniac/monster. He got his unusual name when he made his debut at the Cafe Society night club in Greenwich Village. He had no background. No reputation. Therefore, he was dubbed “Zero.” Of course, he was a sensation and his career took off like a comet until he was blacklisted in the Joe McCarthy Red Menace era. Zero named no names and rebuffed the inquisitors. He retired to his studio in the wholesale flower district of Manhattan and painted. He was quite a good painter. He outlasted McCarthy and triumphed in film with “The Producers,” and on Broadway with “Fiddler on the Roof,” and many other plays.

HG remembers waiting before the smoked fish counter at Zabar’s, the renowned food emporium on the Upper West Side. Zero was there and he and HG chatted and expressed mutual admiration for Zabar’s Russian pumpernickel bread. HG told Zero pumpernickel and chicken fat had been his favorite after school snack. Commented Zero: “Pumpernickel and chicken fat killed more Jews than Hitler.”

In the Bronx of HG’s youth, Jewish delicatessens often had a bowl of salami chunks on the counter with a sign: “A Nickel A Shtickel.” The literal Yiddish translation of “shtick” is: “a piece.”  You got it. “Shtickel” is the diminutive i.e. “a little piece.” Hungry customers could nibble “ah shtickel” while their pastrami and corned beef orders were being sliced.

All of this has made HG muse on Yiddish show biz terms. “Shtick”, of course, means a comic routine or a performer’s riff of some type. The term has been broadened to include all sorts of political and sales approaches.

“Schmaltz” is chicken fat. It is also the term for sentimental, over-dramatic emoting. “Schmaltzy” music or “schmaltzy” acting, therefore is that which is solely intended to pluck the heart strings (or clog those heart strings as shmaltz tends to do).

A performer of talent who lacks the ability to emotionally move an audience is known as a “lox.” A curious designation, since “lox” is the salty, highly flavored cut of smoked salmon favored by folk with hearty tastes. In performing terms, the opposite of a “lox” is a “shtarker” — a performer who uses every means at his (or her) disposal to excite or grab an audience (by the “kishkas” as they might say). Al Jolson, Bobby Darin, Liza Minelli, Zero Mostel, Bette Midler, Billy Daniels, Louis Armstrong—all “shtarkers”. The word literally means a tough, strong guy. In the Europe of yesteryear, when Jew haters attacked scholars, merchants, etc., “shtarkers” were summoned — Jewish guys who worked with their hands and who did not back down from a fight.

Amazing to think that many of these Yiddishisms have made the leap from the old, Odessa ghettos to the Lower East Side Vaudville circuit to finally entering our shared American vernacular in such a permanent way that a Presidential speech could be described in a major Newspaper as “schmaltzy.” Certainly a development that the great Boris Thomashefsky couldn’t have foreseen!

Daughter Lesley R. alerted Hungry Gerald and SJ to an error involving spaghetti with sardine sauce. In a recent post, HG commented on Sicilian sardine sauce, calling it “pasta al sardo.”

Corrected LR: “Pasta al sardo” means pasta cloaked in a sauce rendered from a gentleman of Sardinian descent. “Pasta con el sarde” is a more appetizing concoction involving sardines.

Although we have no doubt that, to a cannibal, Sardinians may be tasty, we have made the requisite correction and will always check with LR in the future regarding proper Italian spelling!