HUNGRY GERALD

Georgia U. made HG very happy as the ferocious Dawg Defense throttled Alabama and won the National College Football Association Championship by a 33-18 score. (Quarterback Stetson Bennett also contributed to the win). The Freeman family has had a long, affectionate relationship with Georgia. HG’s late cousin, Dr. Gustave Freeman faced certain discrimination from Ivy League schools who had limited admission policies for Jewish applicants; thus, Gustave graduated from Georgia in the mid-1920’s – he was a college boxing champion and later a noted cancer researcher, first to link smoking with the disease. HG’ s late elder brother, Bernard, graduated in the 1930’s (he was a freshman football star known as “The Russian Bull”; his athletic career ended due to a tragic plane accident; he lived but lost most of his right leg). His son, the late financial /real estate luminary, Paul, went to Georgia as did Paul’s sisters. More family followed. So, the Dawgs and the Freemans go back almost 100 years. After high school HG visited the Georgia campus but found racial segregation horrifying (‘WHITE” and “COLORED” signs everywhere). HG was also shocked by seeing a chain gang working on a highway. African-American prisoners in stripes, chained together; sweltering in the summer heat; overseen by a rifle toting white officer. Seared in HG’s memory. HG matriculated at New York’s CCNY, where leftist intellectuals would battle against any type of discrimination except merit. While watching the many African-American grid warriors on the Dawgs-Crimson Tide teams, HG mused that college (and pro) football had become a much better and more exciting game once Black people began to play a major (often dominant) role.  Blacks, of course, transformed basketball into a spectacle.

With Lesley, Massimo and Arianna R. joining BSK in the kitchen, culinary wonders dazzled HG/BSK’s wondrous family gathered in New Mexico to celebrate the holiday season. The Christmas tree sparkled. Fireplace wood fire flames danced. Pets Toby, The Wonder Dog; Pip (the brilliant Riva lady dog); Mintern (Arianna’s feline buddy) played. And, the humans? They ate and drank with gusto. Lesley made her incomparable polenta topped with a wild mushroom ragout. (BSK gave HG a breakfast treat of warmed polenta with a perfect poached egg). Lesley and BSK collaborated on lusty seafood stews plus a New Mexico green chile chicken extravaganza. Lesley made everyone happy with wondrous pasta. Final dinner was centered on Tex/Mex delights from EL Parasol in Pojoaque. (HG relished authentic Mexican menudo). This was Massimo’s birthday and he blew out all the candles on a very tasty Chantilly Cream Cake from Whole Foods (Prosecco was the accompaniment). A great finale to a memorable family gathering.

Jeremy Freeman (identified in this blog as “SJ”) is HG’s son. No man could ever have a better son. HG loves him very much. While HG had cancer and urinary tract surgery, Jeremy was a blessing; during a medical emergency, Jeremy rescued HG from much pain (if you need an auto driver to drive you to a hospital emergency center in record time, Jeremy is your man). He is multi-talented: writer (best food writer ever); photographer, urban poet, Jamaican music (reggae) expert and disc jockey. Jeremy lives with wife, Maiko; son, handsome Haru; daughter, adorable Teru, in Tokyo. HG/BSK keep in touch via FaceTime. Hopefully, a joyous reunion may be managed. Jeremy and Maiko own and operate an “izakaya” restaurant, Freeman Shokudo. It’s a Brooklyn-style barbecue restaurant. It has drawn rave reviews from the media. Yes, there are ribs, pulled pork, chicken, etc. But, the surprise is world class pastrami (tasters say it’s even better than pastrami icons New York’s Katz’s and Los Angeles’ Langer’s). Freeman Shokudo opened in the midst of a pandemic (and a curtailed Olympics wasn’t helpful). However, Freeman Shokudo (Jeremy and his family) have all survived. Today is Jeremy’s birthday. Have many, many, many more. HG (age 92) is a very lucky man to have lived so long and enjoyed the wonders of having Jeremy as a son.

BSK was inspired by HG’s recent post about one of HG/BSK’s favorite New York restaurants, El Faro (sadly, the restaurant has been long closed but the name persists in an eatery that serves Mexican, not Spanish, food). So, a few nights ago BSK, a confirmed garlic lover, made one of El Faro’s signature dishes: Mariscada. This is a pot of mixed seafood in a rich green sauce of parsley, onions and garlic. BSK amped up the garlic (hooray!!) and gave the sauce a splash of sherry vinegar instead of the traditional canned asparagus juice. Of course, BSK tweaked it with a melange of spices. Sea scallops and shrimp simmered in the sauce. There was fluffy rice to add to the bowls. Sublime. The next night, BSK scored some flounder filets (much thicker than the filets HG ate in the northeast). BSK fried them in an egg and panko batter, flanked them with small boiled potatoes and very good (though out of season) asparagus. Hey, HG/BSK manage to delight in seafood in landlocked New Mexico.

In 2004, 13-year-old Arvind Mahankali of New York City won the Scripps National Spelling Bee by spelling correctly the word “knaidel”, described as a type of dumpling. It is a Yiddish word often used to describe matzo balls. Not by HG’s late beloved Mom, Ida Kopkind Freeman. Her super light matzo balls which enriched her chicken soup were called, with Yiddish accent, “mahtzeh buhls”. A “knaidel” was a very dense, fairly large dumpling composed of matzo meal, grated onion, chicken fat, salt and pepper. It was boiled and served with pot roast or other dishes with abundant gravy. It soaked up sauces like a sponge. “Knaidel” is the spelling in the Merriam’s-Webster dictionary, the source of correctness for the spelling contest. Mahankali’s victory caused controversy among Yiddishists. YIVO, the ultimate authority on all things Yiddish, said the correct spelling (as translated into phonetic English from Yiddish) is “kneydl.” Others insist on “knadle.” HG scoffs. No matter how you spell knaidels they remain a happy culinary memory.

Yes, HG is very fond of alcohol in all of its delightful forms. Alas, at age 92, HG has to limit consumption (advised by BSK) since HG’s agility is impaired and overindulgence could lead to a bone breaking tumble. So, HG drinks white wine with a splash of Aperol before dinner; a glass or red with dinner; snifter of bourbon after dinner. Not teetotal, but close. HG becomes wistful (in a happy way) when HG remembers New York boozy meals of yesteryear. Russian Tea Room (when it was owned by the late Sidney Kaye): Blinii with red salmon caviar, melted butter, sour cream. Icy vodka of course. Fornos, long closed Spanish restaurant in Manhattan’s W. 50’s: Margaritas drunk throughout a meal of pork in garlic sauce with Spanish fried potatoes. Two banana daiquiris for dessert. Never left the restaurant sober. Old Seidelberg Bar on Third Avenue: Mugs of tap beer with Liederkranz and onion on German rye bread. Blue Ribbon in W. 40’s (German food): Steak tartare with vodka and beer chasers. Sardi’s: Perfect dry martinis and robust red wine with rare lamb chops and roast kidneys. Christ Cella (the ultimate New York steak house): Scotch sours (fresh lemon juice) before monumental steak. Gage & Tollner (Brooklyn landmark now reopened): Chablis with spring season shad and shad roe. There were many, many more lush pairings of alcohol and food enjoyed (and, not in moderation) by HG but the old guy is wary of being intoxicated by boozy memories.

Sheila T., an activist for the preservation of the natural habitat and BSK’s valuable ally in political and environmental battles when HG/BSK lived in Jefferson County, Colorado, was visiting Santa Fe with a friend. BSK invited the two women for brunch. The menu was egg-and-cheese casserole (recipe from BSK’s Aunt Shirley); toast and local apricot jam (made by neighbor Merry C,); apple cider and lots of coffee. Delicious. HG ate non-dairy Forager yogurt and maple syrup with morning vitamins and medications. Cheese casserole (many bits of ham and greens) is tough going for HG. The old guy’s throat was drastically narrowed by cancer surgery decades ago. Swallowing can be a problem as food can be stuck with resultant coughing. Sheila brough some tasty doughnuts (HG can swallow those) which will be saved for breakfast. HG admired Sheila’s array of great silver and turquoise southwestern jewelry ( a pendant, pins, bracelets and rings). Much was vintage and all were beautiful.

El Faro was HG/BSK’s favorite New York Spanish restaurant for lusty seafood dishes enlivened by an exuberance of garlic (sadly, El Faro closed in 2012). The restaurant was located at the corner of Horatio and Greenwich in Greenwich Village. Amanda Hesser was Food Editor of The New York Times for many years (she left in 2008 and founded Food52). When at the Times she published a book of essays: “Eat, Memory.” Subtitled: Great Writers at the Table–A collection of essays from The New York Times. One of the essays is by Gary Shteyngart, the Russian-American novelist . He grew up in a home without garlic. He longed for garlic. At age 19, he and a girlfriend discovered El Faro. “We ordered two dishes (and in many visits thereafter I have tried no others: a mariscada in green sauce, a sizable pot filled with shrimps, mussels, scallops and clams coated in olive oil, parsley, onions and, yes, melting cloves of garlic; and shrimp al ajillo, saturated in garlic and hot sauce, perfect for scooping with fried Spanish potatoes or pouring over rice.” Shteyngart supplies recipes for both. The mariscada has an odd ingredient–asparagus juice from a can of asparagus. (that’s why you’ll find canned asparagus in HG/BSK’s pantry).

Yes, this was the best Thanksgiving Day feast ever. The culinary team of BSK, gifted daughter Lesley R.; brilliant granddaughter Arianna R., filled HG/BSK’s New Mexico home with intoxicating cooking smells followed by an extravaganza of roast turkey and tasty side dishes. The turkey (from Kaunes grocery in Santa Fe) was juicy, full of flavor and the skin was a burnished brown (skin was nice to look at and a treat to eat). Here’s a roll call of the side dishes: Sausage stuffing, buttery mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, brussel sprouts with bacon and fried onions; pearl onions. Arianna delighted HG with creamed spinach decorated with slices of hard boiled eggs. This creamed spinach was better than any served with steak at New York’s famed chop houses. Guests were friends/neighbors Merry and Fred and they brought a salad of chopped jicama flavored with lime and coconut. Red wine and moist cornbread accompanied the feast. Chilled Prosecco preceded it. HG’s after dinner beverage was Tennessee sour mash whiskey. Looking forward to the coming days for turkey sandwiches and turkey soup.

Magic day before Thanksgiving. Visiting brilliant daughter, Lesley R., and phenomenal granddaughter, Arianna R., are with HG/BSK in Santa Fe. They were busy preparing all of the good things that will accompany the turkey on T-DAY. HG spied cranberry sauce, stuffing and gravy (of course). In addition: Corn bread, mashed potatoes, brussel sprouts, pearl onions,creamed spinach. The ultimate feast. BSK made butternut squash soup (from late beloved HG sister Beulah Naomi’s recipe). And, that unctuous soup (BSK added some jalapenos and a few other things to enhance the classic wonder) was dinner tonight plus salad, cheese, perfectly moist cornbread and red wine. Comforting down home cooking. After dinner, HG settled back in his Eames black leather and rosewood lounge chair complete with ottoman. (HG has been comforted by various editions of this very expensive contemporary masterpiece for some 63 years). Besides Toby, The Wonder Dog, HG had another companion: Mintern, Arianna’s cat who is beautiful, friendly and infinitely graceful. Multi talented Ari had made the TV and HG’s hearing aids functional. The hearing aids were a BSK thoughtful gift to HG enabling HG to see movies, etc. without subtitles. HG looked forward to a perfect evening (enhanced by a snifter of Tennessee sour mash whiskey). Not to be. The great Eames chair fell apart in a number of pieces. This happened a few years ago,much to HG’s distress. Seems, the epitome of chic modernist comfort has a design flaw. Fortunately, there is a company, Hume Modern, that specializes in repairing Eames chairs. Fear not, HG was not injured but spilled a few drops of whiskey.