HUNGRY GERALD

That was the motto of the early women’s prohibition movement. BSK doesn’t go that far. However, BSK has often taken a very dim view of HG’s intake of strong white spirits. Namely tequila and vodka. Can’t blame her. BSK’s war hero father had problems with alcohol which led to a stormy family life. The only time HG ever saw BSK drink strong spirits was on their first date in March 1963. The duo met at the bar of Lombardi’s, a Greenwich Village restaurant. BSK ordered a Dewars scotch on the rocks. (Later, BSK confessed feigning sophistication on a first date with an older, worldly New Yorker). HG had two extra dry Martinis (BSK did not heed the warning). BSK loved dining at Fornos, a wonderful Spanish restaurant (long closed); however, BSK did not like HG’s habit of drinking Fornos’ Margaritas (best ever) throughout the meal and finishing with two Banana Daquiris (best ever) for dessert. Matters came to a climax on Fire Island: HG/BSK were guests at a smorgasbord prepared by the late New York Times journalist Glenn Fowler and his Swedish wife. Famished and thirsty after a day of sun, swimming, body surfing and football tossing. The array of herring, meatballs, red salmon caviar, ham, sausages and cheeses was enticing. HG ate a lot (as did BSK). Jolly time. Unfortunately, HG drank a great deal. There were bottles of near-frozen Aakavit in a block of ice and ale nestled in a bucket of crushed ice. HG took a bite of food. Then a snifter of icy Aakavit. A chaser of ale. This was repeated and repeated and repeated. Later, HG/BSK walked home on the narrow boardwalk (no cars on Fire Island). All of a sudden BSK noticed she was walking alone. BSK looked off the side of the boardwalk — There, laying in the sand, was a prone, very happy, very drunk HG. The next morning there were some stern warnings from BSK. If such a drunken scene was repeated marriage would be ended. HG never again became falling down drunk. (BSK was magnanimous about HG being tipsy, high, slightly sozzled, etc.). Lately, strong spirits have had a bad effect on mature HG. The combination of vodka or tequila with HG’s old guy medications has proven dangerous. HG has stumbled and passed out briefly (for about 30 seconds). BSK has expressed concern. HG now adheres to a regimen of bitters and soda (Aperol, Campari, Punt a Mes, Cynar, Angostura) before dinner. A glass of wine (a large one) with dinner. A very small shot glass of bourbon sipped while watching a movie DVD. No, this is not a liquid diet approved by Carry Nation, the temperance women and the health police. However, it keeps HG upright and soberly joyous. Moreover, BSK approves (barely). That’s the only approval HG seeks.

Bernie Sanders, a Jew, could be the first Jewish President. “Oy vey!!”, comments HG, a long time Hillary Clinton supporter. HG is a Jew, although a confirmed atheist and opponent of organized religion (The present Pope is an exception). The Sanders candidacy has caused HG to muse about the singularity of Jews. It was William Norman Ewart (1885-1977), an English foreign affairs journalist (and a Soviet spy in the 1920’s), who composed the epigram: “How odd of God/To choose the Jews”. The epigram drew many reposes through the years: “Not odd of God/His son was one” (Dorothy Parker); “Not odd of God/Goyim annoy ‘im” (Leo Rosten); “But not so odd as those who choose a Jewish God yet spurn the Jews” (Ogden Nash); “Moses, Jesus, Marx, Einstein and Freud/No wonder the goyim are annoyed” (Jim Sleeper).

HG/BSK rarely eat in Italian restaurants. BSK is an expert Italian cook as is daughter Lesley R. (who has the advantage of spending many years in Italy). SJ, not only makes top shelf latkes, barbecue, Cajun stews, the talented guy makes a sumptuous bowl of linguine con vongole. Growing up in The Bronx, HG confined Italian dining to one restaurant, Dominick’s. Located in the Arthur Avenue/Belmont neighborhood, the prices were low, tastes were hearty old school, decor was no frills to the extreme, waiters were brusque. It’s still in operation. Still has huge portions. No credit cards. Communal seating. Pizza was not a universal American food in HG’s youth. First tried some, age 5, on busy Bathgate Avenue. Thought it was cherry pie. Mom finally bought little HG a slice (cost 2 cents). Big disappointment. HG has never been a big pizza fans though, when young, HG did fancy the very oily, very cheesy pies at Joe’s on Jerome Avenue (Kingsbridge neighborhood) and Half Moon (Arthur Avenue). The years rolled by. HG/BSK made many trips to Italy. Favorite dishes: Seppie stew with linguine in Venice (plus all the fish and shellfish); Bollito Misto in Bologna as well as (natch) Tagliatelle con Ragu Bolognese; very rare Steak Fiorentina with Tuscan beans in Florence; pasta smothered in delicious, expensive white truffle shavings in Rome. Mouthwatering memories. In New York, HG/BSK’s favorite Italian restaurant was Delsomma on W. 47th Street. HG/BSK were introduced to it by the late (and very much missed) composer Michael Small and his wife, Lynn. This was the restaurant where HG/BSK had their very first meal with Massimo R., then the nervous boyfriend of daughter Lesley. (Massimo and Lesley celebrated their 30th wedding anniversary this month). Read all about Delsomma (closed for more than 20 years, alas) on hungrygerald: Gone But Not Forgotten Restaurants: Delsomma. Paul and Jimmy’s on Irving Place was another favorite (Pesce –fish– Livornese was a specially). That’s gone but two other favorites are still operating –Patsy’s on W. 56th Street and Patsy’s Pizzeria and Restaurant on 1st Avenue and 118th Street. The 56th Street Patsy’s was a favorite of Frank Sinatra and mobster Frank Costello. In 1956, HG had HG’s first public relations office on the floor just above the restaurant. Knowing that HG was struggling financially, Patsy’s kind and generous owners would feed HG delicious food at discounted prices.(“Hey. Kid, you’re a neighbor, right?”). The other Patsy’s was a favorite during HG’s days as a journalist. Favorite dishes were clams oreganato and spaghetti olio et aglio. In those days (1951-1955), Patsy’s was a busy place much favored by cops and mob guys. Specialized (as it still does) in pizza. HG/BSK visited it one night in the 1970’s when BSK was in the mood for pizza. Drugs had taken over the neighborhood. HG/BSK were the only customers except for junkies who kept darting in the bathrooms to shoot up. The pizza, however, was devastatingly good. Prepared by two old people who cooked with knowledge and love. Business picked up at Patsy’s (In business for more than 75 years) after Woody Allen, surprisingly, showed up with a group of showbiz pals in the early 80s, ordered pizza and raved. Word got around. The restaurant now thrives under a second generation of owners. Still a cash only policy. HG is sure it’s good but when next in New York, will continue to get an Italian food fix at Vic’s, daughter Victoria’s new venture on Great Jones Street. Superlative, innovative Italian cooking.

Yes, HG will be watching the 50th Super Bowl on Sunday, February 7. Yes, HG will feel twinges of guilt. The contest will take place in the wake of the recent death of former Giant player Tyler Lash, age 27. His autopsy revealed severe brain damage–C.F.E.–the result of the numerous concussions and brain collisions he suffered during a football career that began when he was very young. The deadly statistics concerning football’s destructiveness are mounting. Yet, the NFL and the major college conferences are doing little to protect players. The NFL is a multi,multi billion dollar business which provides the billionaire owners a useful tax shelter plus an ego boost. The big time college football factories pay their coaches millions and the players (mostly African-American) often end their college days with debilitating injuries. Just one more thing that’s wrong in an America which takes a TV buffoon like Donald Trump seriously as the leader of the world. Nevertheless. Nevertheless. HG will watch the Denver Broncos do battle with the Charlotte Panthers. HG/BSK lived in the greater Denver area for some 25 years before moving to New Mexico. It is very hard to be cured of Bronco fever. Unfortunately, HG believes Cam Newton and his Panther comrades will demolish the Broncs. Newton is the most extraordinary quarterback HG has ever seen. He is bigger and faster than most famed running backs. He is an accurate passer, comfortable throwing short or long. White football fans (enchanted by splendid white quarterbacks like Manning, Brady, Montana and Starr) have been reluctant in acknowledging Newton’s greatness.(Newton’s celebratory dances annoy them). Sorry, white folks. Newton is symbolic of a new generation that will change football forever (unless the game is banned as being more dangerous and inhumane than bullfighting). HG has watched every Super Bowl, beginning with the first. Vince Lombardi coached the winning Green Bay Packers. Now a sanctified figure with numerous schools, playing fields, streets, etc. named after him. A number of statues and plaques on public buildings. He was a brutal exponent of winning (“Winning is everything.”) and delighted in bone crushing “nutcracker” drills during his team’s practice sessions. “Football isn’t a contact sport. It’s a collision sport.”, he said. Of course,it is all of those collisions that lead to early Alzheimer’s and C.F.E. Lombardi lauded bravery and toughness but managed to avoid serving in World War Two through numerous deferments. In 1967, Lombardi complained of digestive pain but refused his doctor’s suggestion of a proctoscopic examination. He died three years later of colon and rectal cancer. Age 57. Hey, amateur Freudian analysts, theorize about all of these anomalies in Lombardi’s life. A culinary note. HG will soften Super Bowl guilt by consuming a half-time meal not endorsed by the health police. Rare roast beef on rye or pumpernickel bread liberally covered with a layer of duck fat. Topped with sliced sweet onion, Malden Sea Salt Flakes and smoked black pepper. Accompaniments: Sour dill pickles. Cole slaw. Potato salad. Anchor Steam India Pale Ale. Guinness Stout. Go Broncos!!!

HG/BSK’s son-in-law, Massimo R., is a man of many talents and distinctions. First of all, he is a distinguished scholar: professor of Italian Studies at Brown University, author of a number of books; a pioneer in making Italian literature and culture available on the internet. The Italian government honored his contributions to Italian culture by naming him a “Grande Ufficiale” of the republic last year. A tall, handsome man with an imperious Roman nose, Massimo has impeccable style, cutting “la bella figura.” He is fluent in Italian, English, French and reads German and Spanish. And, if all this wasn’t enough, he is a warm, caring husband and father. Plus, he has a history of being a tennis champion in his youth and is still a formidable force on the court. Yes, Massimo is formidable. But, he has endearing, humanizing flaws. He has an infinite capacity to lose, forget and misplace: keys, wallets, papers, directions, etc.. He meets technological challenges with impatience and heartfelt cries of “Madonna!!!”. HG has enjoyed many wonderful meals with Massimo in Italy, Canada, France and the United States. His wine judgment is excellent and, unlike most Italians, he is an adventurous diner, relishing the foods of India, the Far East, Middle East and South America. He has encouraged HG to eat horse carpaccio, donkey sausage and other hearty, unlikely Italian treats. HG and Massimo have only two food disagreements. HG prefers pasta a bit more cooked than Massimo’s rigid al dente version. And, once Massimo cooked risotto with bubbling Guiness Stout. HG thought this an unfortunate marriage of a beverage and an ingredient that should remain strangers. Thus, HG faced dinner one night during HG/BSK’s recent Rhode Island visit with nervous trepidation. Massimo had prepared Ribollita. This is a classic poor person’s dish, a Tuscan soup that is a hearty potage of left over bread, cannellini beans, cabbage, onions, carrots, potatoes, broth and whatever other vegetables are lingering in the refrigerator. No need to fear. Topped with chopped parsley and garlic, grated cheese and good novello olive oil and accompanied by red wine, it was a nourishing, comforting winter dinner. HG/BSK will add the dish to their repertoire. And,while they’re at it they’ll give some other Tuscan bread dishes like Pappa al Pomodoro and Panzanella some special attention. These should be great in the summer when sun is hot and tomatoes are ripe.

HG has been a fan of professional football for many, many decades. As a youngster, HG would be glued to the radio listening to the play-by-play feats of New York GiantsTuffy Leemans, Ward Cuff, Mel Hein, Al Blozis, Hank Soar and other heroes. When HG was a journalist in the 50’s, HG often attended Giants games and wrote “color” reports about them for Hearst Pre Date Services, a Hearst syndicate utilized by weekly newspapers. Best football players HG ever saw: Running backs Jim Brown and Marion Motley of the Cleveland Browns; Defensive back and punt returner Emlen Tunnell; and Arnie Weinmeister, defensive tackle,both of the New York Giants.. HG may be accused of old fogeyism, but HG preferred the old style pro football. Yes, today’s players are bigger, faster, more skilled. But, the level of violence is unacceptable. And, many players face Early Alzheirmer’s and other ailments after retirement. HG thought about this while watching a vicious, disgraceful game: the wild card playoff between the Steelers and Bengals. Helmet-to-helmet spearing. Punching. Cheap shots. The NFL has to review this and make appropriate reforms. There was one, happy memorable moment–the extraordinary, acrobatic touchdown catch by Pittsburgh’s Martevis Bryant. That’s one of the reasons to watch pro football–not to get a vicarious thrill out of brutality.

HG/BSK’s Gorgeous Granddaughter Sofia R. is spending a week with Nonno and Nonna (Grandpa and Grandma in Italian). Superstitious HG is worried. Sofia is just too gifted. Beautiful in face and form. Intellectually advanced. Good athlete (soccer, tennis). Funny. Fluent in English and Italian. Serviceable in French and Spanish. Doing well in Columbia University’s super selective and demanding International Studies program–two years in France (Reims) and two at Columbia’s New York (Morningside Heights) campus. At Casa HG/BSK, Sofia seeks cozy and snug comfort. (That’s why The Big Guy in the Sky made Elderbuddies – as they were called at the progressive Gordon School in Providence, RI, where Sofia received her primary education). This means dips in HG/BSKs’ indoor heated swimming pool. Cuddles with Toby, The Wonder Dog, who is ecstatic about Sofia’s return. Sofia spent her senior year at Desert Academy in Santa Fe and lived in HG/BSK’s casita. She helped BSK’s adopt Toby from a Pet Shelter. Toby might need therapy when Sofia leaves. Sofia reads poetry or watches TV while prone on the big black leather sofa near the fireplace. There are visits to Santa Fe and Pojoaque to meet Desert Academy friends and eat Menudo and New Mexico Green Chile dishes. BSK has met Sofia’s requests for comfort food. Lots of tortillas with melted cheese and salsa. Egg and cheese casserole smothered in green chile sauce. BSK’s robust chile made with grass fed organic beef. Chicken curry. Anchor Steam Beer from San Francisco. HG/BSK will miss this magical young woman.

Tough day for HG. Pneumonia is back. Big time. (“Mother of God. Is this the end of Rico?” — words from Edward G. Røbinson in the 1930’s gangster film,”Little Caesar.”) Fear not. HG will hang around. And, the reason HG will hang around is because he is married to the best woman in the world. Beautiful. Chic. Sexy. HG and BSK have been married for 52 years. HG is not an easy companion. HG believes BSK deserves a Congressional Medal of Honor with an Oak Leaf Cluster for putting up with HG for more than a half century. Her golden virtues have not tarnished. BSK is a wonderful mother and grandmother, loving, helpful. BSK is much loved and BSK deserves all their love…and more. BSK is an efficient household manager. As the old country song puts it: “If my woman can’t do it, it can’t be done.” Splendid cook, decorator. Excellent judge of wine (HG confesses.BSK is HGs’ favorite sommelier). A brilliant artist, BSK’s hand formed pots are in demand. Sold a beautiful cross yesterday to artistically knowing collectors. BSK shines when the going gets tough. During HG’s pneumonia, BSK has supplied HG with antibiotics, other drugs, water, tea and biscuits, Kleenex. BSK has created a comfort zone before HG/BSK’s bedroom Kiva fireplace. Computer. Phone. Pad. Pens. HG’s Mom, Chaika (Ida) Kopkind was parsimonious with praise for women. Not impressed with fine manners or elegant graces. She was down to earth. Her highest praise for a woman was to call her ah guteh nashumeh – “a good soul”. This has nothing to do with anything superficial. It has to with deep down goodness, HG must confess. HG’s Mom was not “ah guteh nashumeh.” Her life was just too tough. Chaika Kopkind died without really knowing BSK. If she lived longer, HG believes, she would have acknowledged BSK as an authentic “guteh nashumeh.”

New Year’s Day is the best day for hours of guilt-free, wintry enjoyment. HG is very fond of politically incorrect cheerleaders; huge bands going through their dopey maneuvers; thousands of passionate fans. It is acknowledged and forgiven by BSK that on New Year’s Day, HG joins millions of red blooded American he guys getting prone and watching hours of bowl games. HG missed two games–Tennessee vs. Northwestern and Michigan vs. Florida. However, HG was gratified by the results. The Vols and Big Blue romped. Then, on to the day’s grid feature–Ohio State vs. Notre Dame. HG loves Ohio State for these reasons: HG’s late cousin Morris, a flight instructor with the World War Two RCAF, died when a student panicked, seized the controls, crashed) was the manager of the OSU football team. BSK went to high school in Galion, Ohio (dated a high school football All-American) and attended OSU before graduating summa cum laude from Hunter College in New York. BSK, strangely, is not interested in OSU’s athletic fortunes. HG is passionate about the Buckeyes because they made money for him when money was needed desperately. HG’s partner had embezzled substantial money and disappeared. The IRS was after HG. The Mafia was after HG (the partner was a degenerate gambler, owed lots of dough to mob bookies, and that’s what led to the flight.) The bad boy partner hadn’t paid the suppliers to HG’s public relations firm and had flim-flammed many of the firm’s clients. HG was desperate. His solution was to scrape together a lot of money and place a very big bet on Ohio State in the 1968 Rose Bowl. (HG, in the sixth year of his marriage to BSK never told BSK the amount o the bet–$10,000–since some of the money came from a mob “Shy”). Despite O.J. Simpson’s heroics (an 83-yard run) in the first half, OSU won handily. O.J. had HG’s curse upon him. Fumbled three times and all were recovered by OSU. Also threw an interception. HG/BSK were on the road to solvency and within two years bought their first Montclair, NJ, home and had the IRS lien lifted from their joyous Fire Island home.And, that was the end of money worries. Thank you Jack Tatum and other OSU heroes. Farewell, memory lane and back to 1/1/2016. HG thought it unjust that OSU wasn’t among the Final Four. Powerful defense. Creative offense (nothing like this old Woody Hayes teams). As HG anticipated, OSU overwhelmed a very gallant Notre Dame team. Then watched Stanford’s Christian McCafferty put on a spectacular show against Iowa. This back is the real deal. Loved to watch his father, Ed, play as a Denver Bronco. The kid surpasses his dad. Deserved the Heisman. Finished football day. Oklahoma State vs Ole Miss. Mississippi is a powerful SEC team. Too tough for the Cowboys.

HG has never enjoyed this traditional party event. Too noisy, too drunken — too anxious in the pursuit of joy with “partyers” grimly determined to have a good time. This New Year’s Eve was different. HG had a glorious time. A group of delightful friends and neighbors joined HG/BSK. Roaring blaze in the fireplace, Yo Yo Ma on the Bose. Many candles. The Celebrants: Polly B. and David F. (Polly B. is a brilliant photographer and David F. is an eminent educator,historian, novelist. Karen K is a movie producer,film maker, gardener,agriculturist (She supplies HG/BSK with phenomenal eggs). She is also a supreme maker of desserts (HG has labeled her The Dessert Queen). Rounding out the party was Chris, Polly’s daughter who resembles her Mom. Funny. Pretty. And, of course, there was Bob C, HG’s friend of some 30 years. Bob had a long career as a reporter, editor, publisher, columnist. And, for a while, was the media counselor for a United States Senator from Colorado. The group did some festive dining. Tomato and Anchovy butter bruschetta. Prosciutto di Parma with Piquillo peppers. Rigatoni with Bolognese Ragu (Marcella Hazan’s version). Green salad. Italian truffle cheese. Karen K.’s dessert: lush rum cake with whipped cream. HG added splash of rum to his portion. Five bottles of very good red wine were consumed plus some after dinner Sambuca. During the jolly evening, HG gently berated Bob C.. Bob C. is a delightful writer on many subjects: His Abiquiu, N.M. neighborhood; horses, dogs, politics. New Mexican government skullduggery., etc.. He writes about these things on his blog: oldgringosgazette.com. He has been desultory of late. He promised HG he would mend his ways. Voila !!! A new, sparking blog entry appeared New Year’s Day. HG followers: Read Bob’s blog and add to your stockpile of pleasure.