HUNGRY GERALD

The HG/BSK multi-ethnic clan (Italian, English, Welsh, Jewish, Belorussian, Japanese) celebrated Hanukkah (Handsome Haru lit the candles) by reprising their Christmas Eve feast of Jewish smoked fish (from New York’s Russ & Daughters). A delicious family custom was observed. SJ made a big platter of wonderful potato pancakes. Best latkes ever — crisp, light and not leaden with oil. Lesley R. added crepes. HG had potato pancakes covered with slices of sable, chopped onions, creme fraiche. SJ growled with pleasure as he covered his latkes with creme fraiche, wasabi tobiko and salmon roe. Crepes got a similar treatment with smoked salmon. The rest of the family did their own variations. HG drank icy vodka with beer chasers (early bedtime). Dessert was a wonderful flan provided by a lady of Portuguese ancestry. Topped with whipped cream, it was (HG had to admit) better than any flan HG had consumed in New Mexico.

Arrived in Riverside, R.I. a few days ago, and HG/BSK (and Handsome Haru) were greeted by loving Lesley, Massimo, Sofia and Arianna (plus Pip, the doggy with the high IQ). Lucky HG/BSK to have such a splendid family. Among the delights was a reunion with Toby, The Wonder Dog, unscathed after his lengthy voyage aboard United. There was ambiguity in Toby’s welcome of HG/BSK. After all, the duo had caged him and abandoned him to United Airlines. However, after a bit the furry little fellow let bygones be bygones and was indulged with numerous belly rubs. Wondrous Lesley R. served a dinner of spicy shrimp and grits (clams and grits for crustacean allergic BSK). Super yums. Platter of flavoful cheese and Harry and David pears. Vodka, red wine and limoncello enlivened HG (before inevitable drowse). Christmas food shopping the next day. Lesley R. had sourced (online) a home style Vermont organic ham smoked over corn cobs. Served it for dinner. Delicious. It was a ham from the past when ham tasted like ham and not meat infused with water, sugar, chemicals, etc. On the table were cole slaw, potato salad, pickles, a variety of mustards plus horse radish. HG, despite family disdain, opted for Whole Foods potato salad rather than the home made variety. HG likes WF’s mayonnaise infused version. However, when in Paris, HG enjoys the oil and vinegar flavored warm potato salad served with grilled saucisson. C’est la vie.

Yes, errors do happen at holiday family feasts. One Christmas, HG/BSK decided to cook a goose rather than a traditional turkey. Very, very tough bird. A chain saw would have come in handy for carving purposes. There was another Christmas when gifted daughter Lesley R. (a talented cook) prepared mushroom soup using dried Italian porcini mushrooms. As the soup cooked worms appeared. Don’t know what Lesley did but the worms disappeared (immersion blender?). The soup was delicious and no one had unpleasant after effects. Another time, Lesley roasted rutabagas all night in the kitchen which opened on HG/BSK’s guest bedroom. HG/BSK awakened smelling like root vegetables. HG’s holiday feast mishaps were caused by alcoholic overindulgence. One New Jersey Thanksgiving, HG greeted guests with a glass of chilled Polish vodka in hand. There were many guests and many glasses of white lightning. HG ended the meal by taking a nap under the table. (withering, but futile, criticism from BSK, who over the years has made only a slight dent in HG’s vodka consumption). And, there was a smoked bluefish, sautéed bay scallop, lobster and just picked corn feast on a Fourth of July celebration at HG/BSK’s salt box home on Nantucket Island. A guest (who was a talented mixologist) made rum punch as an after dinner libation. HG insisted that his punch have black rum floating on top. Yes, there was black rum on top and HG ended, once again, snoozing beneath the table. Restraint? Moderation? HG will keep these useful words in mind during upcoming festivities.

BSK’s show of her hand crafted, one-of-a-kind ceramic vessels, sculptures, expressions and masks was attended by enthusiastic friends, collectors and dealers. Show was at Karen C.’s beautiful Vancouver town house. Much good food. And, generous Jamie S., the co-host, was lavish in pouring a lovely rose, a flavorful white and a robust red. HG/BSK met old friends from HG/BSK’s days in Vancouver when HG/BSK owned a series of lofts and a modernist town house. Conversed with new acquaintances and were pleased to welcome Adam and Meredith C.. Adam is the son of two of HG/BSK/s favorite people, Antony and Claudia C.. Young Adam looks like and sounds like his distinguished Dad. Meredith is a clever sparkler. BSK made some sales, evoked interest from dealers and was questioned about doing custom pieces. A wonderful day that began at 11AM. HG/BSK reluctantly left at 10:30 PM. Jamie was still pouring. Karen was still full of energy and the joyous group was still laughing as tired HG/BSK left. Among the pleasures of the day, besides the joie de vivre of Canadians, was the presence of Kaiser, Jamie’s delightful frisky (but well behaved) Havanese. Made up for the absence of Toby, The Wonder Dog, HG/BSK’s New Mexico companion.

Yes, Trumpland is a very strange land. HG/BSK have just completed a three day road trip to Vancouver, B.C.. Glad to be in HG/BSK’s favorite Canadian city (HG/BSK were part time residents for more than 10 years). HG/BSK’s drive took HG/BSK through some of the most exciting landscapes in North America (Utah’s Canyonlands; Washington’s Yakima Valley; the rivers and hills of Oregon; the mountains, waters and low hanging clouds of the Seattle area). Sadness. The land is beautiful but, unlike Canada, liberty has screeched to a halt. Der Trumperer has been quite nasty about Mexicans. However, when it comes to their tummies, his mindless hordes are lovers of Mexican cooking. At every gas station exit on the major highways, there is a taco chain restaurant. Indeed, the taco seems to be running neck and neck with the hamburger as traveling America’s favorite food. Pizza is a distant third (according to HG’s highway observations). HG/BSK stopped for chicken enchiladas with tomatillo sauce at Chavalos in Mancos, Colorado. Good stuff. Sweet service. BSK steered into the Mexican part of town in Yakima, Washington. The brilliant woman (who has developed a talent for spotting down home road food) parked at Taco El Grande. Real Mexican food. No concessions to the gringos. BSK had a fabulous cheese and pork quesadilla with tomatillo sauce. HG had carne adovado and lengue (tongue) tacos. Home made corn tortillas. Drank ice cold Mexican pineapple soda. Perfect. Thanks, BSK.

The best antidote to election malaise is a visit from the Craggs. Very English (but American citizens, HG believes), Antony and Claudia live high in the foothills near Denver. Since Antony drives a Bentley and an Aston-Martin (among other fine collected vehicles) and has a very heavy foot on the accelerator, the delightful couple motor to New Mexico in record time. Antony directs a successful mutual fund and Claudia, an author and former journalist specializing in Asian finance, is an incisive interviewer for a Boulder radio news program. Antony is an aristocrat (he is HG/BSK’s only link to royalty) and Claudia, of theatrical lineage, is super exuberant with an abundance of insight. On this visit, the Craggs brought their dogs: Genghis, a lively little mini-poodle mix with black and white coloring and Boodles, a larger brown poodle mix. HG/BSK’s Toby, The Wonder Dog, was in canine heaven. Joyous frolics as Toby fell in love with Boodles. As usual, the Craggs brought generous gifts of wine (not to be shared, the Craggs insisted the wines be drunk when HG/BSK dined alone). Dinner was an extravaganza, Icy Martinis (made with PEI Strait View Gin). Moderate BSK drank white wine. Nibbles of garlicky fried shishito peppers. Then on to pappardelle with ragu bolognese (from Marcella Hazan’s recipe). Then ripe brie with salad. Much, much red wine. Desserts of carrot cake with ice cream plus home made flan from the ladies at Pojoaque Super Market. Finale of brandy laced with Peychaud Bitters. After the Craggs left the next morning, heartbroken Toby, The Wonder Dog, lay in front of HG/BSK’s casita, mournfully hoping that his love, Boodles, would appear. Toby is still in mourning.

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.