HUNGRY GERALD

HG loves pho (pronounced “fuh”), the hearty and heartening Vietnamese noodle soup. One of the few happy memories the American troops brought back from the costly (in dollars and lives) Vietnam war was the pho they happily ate at sidewalk stalls in Saigon. In Santa Fe, HG devours very good pho at Saigon Cafe. There’s good pho at Pho Hung Restaurant in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island. However, this is a 40 minute drive from HG’s oceanfront paradise. Thus, HG improvises a non traditional pho — in fact it is more of a “pho inspired” dish — for HG’s mid day meal. HG creates a broth of clam juice and water. When boiling, HG throws in some frozen “fish tofu.” These are fish shaped fried tofu. Interesting. Then, at the appropriate time, HG adds rice noodles and firm tofu (which turns silky as it cooks). When poured into a big bowl, HG adds sesame oil and fiery chile oil. Finishes it with chopped scallions. It might not be Saigon (or Santa Fe), but it’s mighty good.

HOORAY !!! The only thing lacking on Prince Edward Island has been a first rate Chinese restaurant. (There’s a good Indian restaurant and fine Vietnamese dining. Charlottetown has a joyous pizza joint and, of course, eateries that make the most of PEI’s natural bounty of farm fresh produce, oysters, lobster, fish and clams). And now there’s Summer Kitchen. (Name does not refer to a season but the restaurant’s location on Charlottetown’s Summer Street). Only open for two weeks, Summer Kitchen is a bright, meticulously clean place. The service is warm and helpful. Run by an endearing Asian couple, the food is extraordinary. HG/BSK dined there a few days ago. Starters surpassed anything found in New York’s dim sum palaces. Filipino Lumpia (spring rolls) had greaseless super crisp exteriors and juicy interiors of chopped vegetables. Lumpia are a favorite street vendor snack throughout the Philippines and Indonesia. Pan fried dumplings had thin skins and browned surfaces. Wood ear mushroom gave the pork fillings an extra flavor boost. Mains (served with a bowl of fluffy rice) were a braise of sliced Japanese eggplant and mapo tofu. Both were fresh and flavorful. HGBSK will be back to try the other good things on the menu.

“Shandeh” is a Yiddish word defining a shameful or despicable act. At the trial of “The Chicago Seven” for inciting to riot at the 1968 Democratic Convention, defendant Abbie Hoffman (anti-Vietnam activist and provocateur), shouted at presiding Judge Julius Hoffman who was Jewish, but no relation to Abbie: “You are a shandeh fur de goyim.” A disgrace in front of the gentiles. Today, this applies to Mnuchin, Kushner and every other Jewish Trump administration official and campaign financier in view of Der Trumperer’s remarks about Nazis/White Supremacists.

Americans will not acknowledge their history. The United States is guilty of two great crimes against humanity: The virtual genocide of Native Americans. And the centuries of abominable chattel slavery. (On a much lesser scale are the destructive, useless Vietnam and Iraq wars). Thousands of Africans died battling slavers. More died as they were branded and kept in African captivity as they awaited “the middle journey.” Thousands more died as they were locked below decks in unspeakable conditions. And, then there was slavery. Lee and the other “heroes” of the Confederacy fought to preserve slavery. The confederate flag is as much a symbol of murderous inhumanity as the swastika. Any African-American seeing Confederate flags and Confederate statues would have the same feelings as a Jew gazing at a swastika or a Hitler statue. Yes, Germany is not perfect. But, it has acknowledged its modern history. Statues of Hitler cannot be found in that land. Back here, in the temporarily land of the brave and free, Der Trumperer is concerned that tearing down racist statues will mar the beauty of cities.

So, the piece of garbage that calls itself POTUS believes that those who battle violent Nazis are members of the”alt left.” That means the millions of Americans who fought the Nazis, violently and to the death, during WWII were members of the “alt left.” As was the French resistance and all other resistance / partisan groups during World War Two. My late father-in-law, Roy Kent, an RCAF bomber pilot, who won the Distinguished Flying Cross (DFC) and many other decorations for his exploits against the Nazis, would be startled. When he arrived in Britain his aerial skills were recognized and it was suggested that he be a trainer. His reply: “I didn’t travel 4,000 miles to be a teacher. I came here to kill Nazis.” He demanded bomber raids he would pilot even though the base log book indicated that no bomber crew had ever survived their tour of duty. A true member of the “alt left. (He’s on the right in this wartime London photo. His younger brother, Eric, who spent seven years as an artilleryman, is on the left.).

There is no limit to the sheer piggishness of Der Trumperer. The latest, of course, is his equating violent Nazi haters of African-Americans, Jews and immigrants with those who protest their actions. It’s like that old joke about equal coverage by TV news. First there is footage of hundreds of dead Jews who perished in the Auschwitz gas chambers. Then the newscaster says: “And now for the Nazi point of view..”

Like the Willie Nelson tune, HG/BSK are “On The Road Again.” Destination: Prince Edward Island Island and HG/BSK’s oceanfront home. It will be a delight to be back in Canada, a democracy with an enlightened leader. First stop on the trip was Amarillo, Texas, and Tyler’s BBQ for splendid sliced brisket, dry rubbed ribs, pulled pork, cole slaw, beans and pickles. Lots of icy pink lemonade. Tyler’s is a visit to down home America, warm, honest and tasty. Next leg of trip was to St. Louis and then on to Youngstown, Ohio. Stayed in two La Quintas and a Holiday Express, all dog friendly and welcoming for Toby, The Wonder Dog, HG/BSK’s travel companion. Yes, America has some frightening flaws but two things the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave does superlatively: Tyler’s Barbecue. Chain motels. (Great beds, TV,sparkling bathrooms, free wi-fi, plenty of hot water and ice, efficient toilets,free breakfast, modest prices). Had to make time so didn’t stop at eateries like Sawadee Thai in Rolla, Mo. or Shapiro’s Jewish Deli, Indianapolis. Opted for quick meals at Waffle House. No complaints. Big bowls of buttery grits with perfect poached eggs; softly scrambled eggs with onion topped home fries. Waffles, of course. Reminded HG of artist Saul Steinberg’s advice: “If you want to eat well in the midwest of the USA, eat breakfast three times a day.” Arrived at the Riva home in Riverside, R.I., after a struggle with Connecticut Friday night traffic jams. Brilliant (and beautiful) granddaughter Arianna was there to welcome the hungry duo with San Daniele prosciutto, crisp bread sticks, bowls of steaming chicken broth with tortellini. Warm and comforting finale to the days on the road.

Among the blessings of HG/BSK’s life in New Mexico are the neighbors that surround HG/BSK. Film producers, historians, poets, artists, scientists, theater folk, etc.. All lovers of life, food and wine. HG/BSK had a splendid dinner with Fred (a scientist and Yachtsman) and Mary (a teacher and authority on theater arts). Appetizer was Marcona almonds and fresh radishes with coarse salt (HG knocked off much icy vodka). Dinner featured pan broiled lamb chops, a warm Middle Eastern puree of garbanzos, broiled tomatoes. Good red wine. Dessert was Mary’s Mom’s bread pudding custard. A wow. Later in the week had an unusual dinner with Karen K. (film producer) and David F. (historian/novelist/educator). Karen posed the question: “Why not have great breakfast food for dinner?” Her response was a dinner of blueberry waffles, plain waffles, rashers of thick cut bacon, New Hampshire maple syrup. All washed down with champagne and orange juice Mimosas. HG/BSK doggybagged some blueberry and plain waffles. Topped the plain waffles with poached eggs for breakfast and finished with blueberry waffles and blueberry jam. Morning joy. HG/BSK’s next door neighbors are Garry and Natasha G. Their acreage produces the best organic vegetables in New Mexico, There is always a long line at Mister G’s, their stand at the Santa Fe Farmers market. All is sold out in a flash. BSK managed to procure a few small heads of escarole that were picked that morning. That night BSK produced a pot of escarole cooked with chicken broth, onions, garlic, parsley, olive oil, red chile flakes. Crisp bacon was added plus lots of grated parmesan. Mister G’s escarole made a big difference. BSK’s kitchen wizardry gave the escarole a savory crunch.

Spring is in fully flower filled glory in New Mexico and BSK is treating HG to perfectly steamed, plump and juicy asparagus. Alas, asparagus is not always in season. Thus, in BSK’s perpetual emphasis on healthy eating, BSK often turns to spinach. No, not any spinach. Baby spinach is BSK’s choice. Provides the perfect bedding for steamed sole or flounder. It is an essential ingredient in BSK’s comforting stracciatella (See HG post on this subject). The green is a lovely complement for BSK’s glorious paillards of chicken thighs drenched in a butter, olive oil, lemon and caper sauce. When HG was a little fellow, HG despised spinach. HG’s late Mom tricked HG into eating the hated stuff. “Hitten treshes” she would announce in her rich Yiddish accent. She was describing “hidden treasures”, a dish she learned about from a radio program. Mom would mash and whip boiled potatoes and chicken fat (Nu? What else?). Mom would make plump spheroids of the spuds and stuff them with spinach. Dusted them with kosher salt and black pepper. Little HG would wolf them down. It would never have occurred to HG’s beloved Mom that the abundance of chicken fat might negate the health benefits of the spinach. (In case you younger HG followers don’t understand the headline, permit HG to clarify. Bluto was a nasty villain in the Popeye movie cartoons and comic strip. He would attack poor Olive Oil, Popeye’s girl friend, after buffeting Popeye. Our hero would then swallow a bowl of spinach. Thus energized, he would beat the hell out that big brute, Bluto. The message was clear: Eat your spinach, kids.)

Dark, dark days. Obviously, Der Trumperer and his spineless Republican minions will do their utmost to cover up Der Trumperer’s collusion with Russia before and after the election. HG’s grim prediction: Der Trumperer will cement his relationship with Putin in order to give Russian hackers a free hand to influence the coming elections. Is this the end of the American democracy ? Possibly. Been reading Gore Vidal’s essays and memoirs. His view of the future of, as he called it, “Imperial America”, seem ever more prescient.