HUNGRY GERALD

HG has been reading Volker Ullrich’s “Hitler: The Ascent, 1889-1939”V. This is a magisterial, meticulously researched biography of Hitler (first of a two-volume work). HG has been struck by the resemblance of Trump to Hitler. In the current issue of The New York Review of Books, Diane Johnson, novelist and critic, cited Michiko Kakutani’s review of the biography in The New York Times. Kakutani called it “an account of a politician who rose to power through demagoguery, showmanship and nativist appeal to the masses.” Johnson wrote: “Without needing to mention Trump, Kakutani brings him immediately to mind.” Mr. Ullrich described Hitler as “an egomaniac who ‘only loved himself’–a narcissist with a taste for self dramatization and what Mr. Ullrich calls a ‘characteristic fondness for superlatives'” Mr. Ullrich noted that Hitler “promised to ‘lead Germany to a new era of national greatness’ though he was typically vague about his actual plans'” Mr. Ullrich wrote Hitler combined oratorical effectiveness with “bottomless mendacity.” HG notes that Trump has and Hitler had, easily caricatured hairdos.

When HG was news editor at a major photo agency, a person who, for publicity purposes, tried to get into every news photo, was known as a “lens louse.” Later, people who were avid for media exposure were known as “media whores” or “media sluts.” Very unattractive terms (and demeaning). Well, Der Trumperer was mad for media exposure since the very beginning of his career. (HG goes back a long way with Trump. HG was part of the publicity team that ballyhooed his first major venture, the reconstruction of New York’s defunct Commodore Hotel into the flossy Grand Hyatt. As usual, he did it with other people’s money. This time New York taxpayers footed the bill). When Der Trumperer began his (fingers crossed) ill fated campaign for the Presidency, the media felt he was an exciting story. Every one of his outlandish statements made headlines. He was a star on news TV. He didn’t have to spend a dime on advertising. The Mainstream Media did the job for him. For free. Well, there’s been a turnaround.The love affair has ended. And, Putin’s little puppet, is whining and sniveling that the Media has rigged the election against him. Rumor has it that if (HG prays) Trump loses, Derf Trumperer will buy his own television network. His narcissism and egomania has no limits.

BIRCH RUN, MI – AUGUST 11: Republican presidential candidate Donald Trump speaks at a press conference before delivering the keynote address at the Genesee and Saginaw Republican Party Lincoln Day Event August 11, 2015 in Birch Run, Michigan. This is Trump’s first campaign event since his Republican debate last week. (Photo by Bill Pugliano/Getty Images)

That’s how HG’s Montclair, N.J., neighbor, the immortal Yogi Berra, phrased it. And,yes, history does repeat. HG grew up in the United States pre-Pearl Harbor when anti-semitism flourished. The “radio priest”, Father Charles Coughlin railed against the Jews in his weekly radio broadcast and in his newspaper, “Social Justice.” Special targets were “the international bankers.” The “America First” party, headed by Charles A. Lindbergh also assailed “the international bankers” and Jewish “internationalists.” Fritz Kuhn and his Nazi “German American Bund” filled New York’s Madison Square Garden for rallies. The blatantly anti-semitic Christian Front was active in many American cities. Henry Ford’s Dearborn, Michigan, newspaper promoted the infamous “Protocols of the Elders of Zion.” And, of course, Jews faced quotas in medical schools and Ivy League universities. Major corporations and banks did not hire Jews. Country clubs did not admit Jews. Suburban housing was severely restricted. And, now we’ve got Der Trumperer. Like the Europeans before World War Two and the American anti-semites before Pearl Harbor, Donald Trump is claiming that Hillary Clinton is conspiring with “international financial interests” to rig the coming election and defeat him. His campaign has run an ad picturing Hillary with a load of money backdropped by a Jewish star. Maybe it’s time for Der Trumperer to be a “mensch” (a stand up guy) and stop pussyfooting You’re not fooling anyone, Despicable Donald. Say what you mean: Use the J-word.

Like The Lone Ranger, parmigiano rides to the rescue of modest Italian cooking. Sour cream does the same for Russian cuisine: Borscht and pelmeny are unthinkable without big dollops of sour cream. Ditto blini and red salmon caviar. Most folks find hamburgers inedible without a pour of ketchup. Hot dogs are sad and lonely without a smear of yellow mustard. HG likes shucked oysters au naturel, the better to inhale their briny goodness. This choice is not shared by many people who blunt the oyster taste with lemon juice, horseradish and unspeakable red sauce. Even the French, devout oyster lovers, serve the bivalves with a shallot vinaigrette. Go figure. HG likes rare steak the Tuscan way. Crushed garlic and olive oil atop the blood rare meat. During the PEI summer, BSK serves many a pot of steamed mussels and bowls of seafood chowders. HG enhances them with scoops of a mayonnaise and sriracha mix. At the cocktail hour, HG gives vodka on the rocks a few drops of Regan’s Orange bitters. BSK always adds a splash of Aperol to BSK’s pre-dinner glass of white wine. After dinner, HG makes a snifter of insipid brandy sing with an addition of Peychaud Bitters. When teetotalers are present, HG gives their glasses of sparkling water vibrant life with a few drops of Angostura bitters.

Wisftul farewell to HG/BSK’s oceanfront paradise on Prince Edward Island’s Gulf of St. Lawrence. As always, it’s been a happy summer enlivened by the presence of Handsome Haru and visits (too short) from other family members. Lots of joyous dining as the winds pick up speed and the leaves begin to turn. Dinner of barbecued lamb and potatoes at Noel and Yossi M.’s Ocean Mist Farm. The delicious lamb was raised by them on an organic diet and received humane treatment. Everything on N. and Y.’s table (tomatoes, peppers, chutney, salsa and the apple crisp dessert) was raised by this remarkable couple. The festive event was echoed two days later by BSK with a meal of buttery mushroom toasts, penne a la amatriciana (from Mario Batali’s Roman recipe). The feast ended with apple pie and a choice of vanilla ice cream (with Sicilian pistachio paste) or maple walnut ice cream. HG/BSK took time off from closing the house chores (admittedly, 98% of the heavy lifting is done by BSK), to dine at two local St. Peters casual landmarks– Rick’s Fish & Chips and Lin’s Takeout. Rick’s steamed local blue mussels (served with a dip of butter,mussel juices and lemon) were sensational–big, plump, juicy, full of sea flavor. Thankfully, last summer’s mussel malaise has ended. Lin’s has the best French fries HG has ever tasted and the generous scallop sandwich is world class. Last PEI meal was at the pretty 21 Breakwater Restaurant in Souris. There are Portuguese touches on the menu (piri piri chicken, Portuguese fish and chips, etc). All tasty. Leave tomorrow for many days of motoring to HG/BSK’s New Mexico home. There will be full reports on HG/BSK’s culinary adventures on the road.

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Some 31 years ago,HG/BSK left New York for a horse ranch in the Rocky Mountain foothills. Then, after almost two decades, moved to a spacious Denver apartment. Now, of course, HG/BSK live in a New Mexico oasis and an oceanfront paradise on Canada’s Prince Edward Island. Lots of serenity, pure air and natural beauty. Peace. Yet, HG sometimes misses the frantic speed of New York. When HG left The Apple for calmer environs, HG noted that everything slowed down. That was obvious when HG began to dine out in the great West: From checkout lines to diners to coffee shops, everything seemed to drag like a leaden balloon punctuated by the cheery (and time consuming) “Have a good one!” that ended seemingly every interaction. On the contrary, going to HG’s New York office, HG would pop into an adjacent coffee shop. “A bialy with a shmear (cream cheese) and a light coffee.” Got it in a flash. Lunch (when in a hurry): “BLT. Whole wheat toast. Mayo. Iced coffee.” Faster than a speeding bullet. Sure, classy restaurants with tablecloths, etc. were properly leisurely. But, in casual eateries you got it fast and got it good. Today, “fast food” means the burger, pizza and taco chains. Crapola. They give speed a bad name.

HG believes it is food snobbism to decry all frozen food. Lots of very good chefs agree with HG that frozen peas are far superior to the fresh peas available in supermarkets (and that includes Whole Foods). HG likes to toss a package into a pot of simmering ravioli or tortellini. (WF carries excellent frozen varieties). Add some grated parmesan and some grinds of black pepper (can also beat an egg into it) and you’ve got true comfort food for a chilly evening. Frozen peas are also good in a risotto or mixed with fettucini, butter, parmesan and prosciutto. WF’s frozen okra are splendid in Bhindi Masala, the lush Indian okra stew. Frozen spinach makes a nice bed for BSK’s pan steamed sole fillets with fried garlic chips. HG always has a bag of WF’s frozen shrimp in the freezer. HG likes the raw, cleaned, shell on variety. They defrost quickly under cold running water. HG dries them and does a quick stir fry in olive oil, sliced garlic and smoked Spanish paprika. Simple and absolutely delicious. They are a staple at Madrid bars. Customers sip sherry, eat the shrimp and spit the shells on the floor. And, that’s why knowing Spanish women don’t wear open toe shoes when bar hopping.

Hey, the land of the free, brave and bigoted is the home of millions of racists, woman haters, war lovers, Il Trumpe worshipers. Yes, it’s got faults. However, there’s some good news. The heartland of the USA used to be a food desert. The chains and “family” restaurants ruled. That has changed. Over the last days, as HG/BSK prepare to leave Prince Edward Island (regretfully) and motor across the country to Santa Fe, HG has been researching restaurants off the major highways the duo (and Toby, The Wonder Dog) will travel. HG has been poring over the choices of Trip Advisor, Yelp and Road Food (Jane and Michael Stern). So far, HG has come up with a Greek restaurant, two Cajun restaurants, a Jewish delicatessen, a seafood restaurant, a Mexcian “fusion” restaurant, a Cuban restaurant and, of course, two barbecue joints. These are lunch or dinner places. For breakfast nothing is better than Waffle House. Be assured. HG will be doing full reports on HG/BSK’s culinary choices.

In a recent post about solitude on the beach in front of HG/BSK’s Prince Edward Island home, HG was guilty (not for the first time) of overstatement. Yes, there are no humans within sight (except for an occasional fishing boat on the horizon) and, thankfully, no autos and their noise and fumes. But, HG is not alone. Toby, The Wonder Dog, is HG’s companion. Toby likes to splash in the sea, race along the bluffs and sniff seaweed, crab shells, etc.. Tiny plover walk the shore, moving swiftly on their skinny legs. Gulls, cormorants and majestic herons are a constant presence. Osprey hover in one spot like helicopters and then dive straight down to snap up their prey. Harrier hawks make an appearance in the afternoon. When HG swims, HG often sees small lobsters scuttling about the bottom. Happily, mosquitoes and flies seem to have abandoned the beach paradise this season.

Sunday, August 21, has been designated Senior Citizens Day. Ouch. HG hates this smarmy euphemism. (HG presumes SC Day, like all special “days”, has been created by corporate interests and that manufacturers of canes, walkers, incontinence underwear, laxatives are probably sponsors of this ludicrous promotional “day”.) HG will be 87 in November (hopefully). HG prefers being called “old”, “old guy”, “old fogey.” Or, if you prefer, “geezer” or “old fart.” The euphonious Yiddish “alteh cocker” is a pleasant, irreverent way to refer to HG.