HUNGRY GERALD

Besides being green and gentle, Prinice Edward Island is a place of intense musical traditions — Acadian, Scottish and Irish. Almost everyone on the Island plays a musical instrument, sings, step dances (some folks do all three at the same time). Almost every church (and there are scores ) hosts a “Ceilidh.” This is a neighborhood get together with music and song. All ages participate. Very rousing. There are many very good professional musicians with loyal followings on the Island and throughout the Maritime regions of Canada. One of the best places to hear great music is the Trailside Cafe in Mt. Stewart. There’s music every Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Also a “Gospel Brunch” from 11 AM to 2:30 PM on Sunday. Tickets are $20 (this includes coffee and breakfast food at the brunch). Doors open at 6:30 PM and music starts at 8. How’s the food? Meh. HG suggests eating before arriving. Trailside has some nice wines and Gahan’s splendid beer on tap. The blueberry cheesecake is tasty. But, the point of the place is the music. BSK’s sister and brother-in-law, Noel and Yossi M. (now PEI residents for most of the year) steered HG/BSK to Trailside to hear the Amanda Jackson Band. Wow !! This woman can sing. Backed by four musicians playing drums, guitar, harmonica, saxophone, keyboard, Amanda and her pals rocked the room. A great night.

HG has been accused of gluttony and overindulgence in alcohol. HG’s personality has been described as abrasive and overbearing. HG is boring when overcome by vodka and wine. But, HG has never been accused of prudery. Nevertheless, HG finds soft porn in films annoying and tedious. When the male and female leads decide bed is an appropriate venue, the movie grinds to a halt as the camera focuses on that inevitable duo, tits and asses, while tossing in some thighs and legs for good measure. (HG also finds hard core porn boring. The plot is familiar and the conclusion inevitable.) HG was reminded of this last night while watching the HBO film, “Hemingway and Gellhorn.” The movie, starring Clive Owen and Nicole Kidman, is very flawed but has much interesting archival footage of the Spanish Civil War. But, as per usual, there is an almost interminable pause as the nude actors feign passion. HG has no interest in Clive Owen’s bare ass or Nicole Kidman left breast. Nevertheless, the film maker adds the obligatory soft porn. The movie does disservice to Gellhorn, one of the greatest war correspondents (covering every war from the Spanish Civil War to Vietnam) and a fine novelist, novella and short story writer. Regrettably, for much of the movie, the camera focuses on Kidman’s bottom. HG is an old guy and very much a product of his time so that feminism has come late in HG’s life. But, reducing powerful, capable women into a catalog of their anatomical parts, is despicable. (A woman executive once described a meeting as one where “the men talked to my breasts.”) Lovers of literature are not well served by the movie. Clive Owen’s Ernest Hemingway has dialogue that seems lifted from Woody Allen’s funny caricature in “Midnight In Paris.” The John Dos Passos (David Strathairn) character is colorless. The very colorful, magnetic photographer, Robert Capa, is reduced to a cipher. Gellhorn deserves serious attention. She is the only woman war correspondent to be honored with a postage stamp. Her depiction of the Dachau concentration camp is searing and classic. She died a few years ago (age 89). A chain smoking, profane, outspoken woman — it would have been fun to get her reaction to the movie and its fictional account of her affair with and marriage to Hemingway. Am sure the reaction would be speckled with many four letter words.

One of the nice things about living in Santa Fe is the art. Of course, there are scores of galleries (some kitsch but mostly first rate) and a surprising number of museums for a city its size. But, there’s quality art almost everywhere–in banks, restaurants, public buildings, shops, offices, etc. HG’s doctor, for example, has a splendid Dali hanging in her consulting room. One of HG’s favorite spaces is the very good Compound Restaurant on Canyon Road. In an old adobe building, the restaurant was designed by the late Alexander Girard and the sun washed interiors are decorated with a few striking pieces of primitive art. (Girard contributed 106,000 pieces to Santa Fe’s Museum Of International Folk Art). New York has some splendid restaurant art, much enjoyed by HG during HG’s long residence in HG’s once beloved city (now a theme park for the international oligarchy). The now threatened Four Seasons Restaurant in Mies van der Rohe’s Seagram Building has a Lippold sculpture, Bertoia curtains, and a revolving display of paintings by modern masters (The Picasso ballet curtain, alas, has been removed). There is no better place for cocktails than The King Cole Bar in the St. Regis Hotel. (HG/BSK have a special fondness for the hotel since, just abut 52 years ago, the duo had an afternoon reception in the elegant Library room following a morning wedding). King Cole, that merry old soul, is celebrated at the bar with a majestic Maxfield Parrish mural. Gaze at it in wonder as you sip a martini during your next New York visit. But, bring an active credit card. Drinks and snacks are very expensive (but worth it). Another wondrous interior is the Cafe des Artistes (now called Leopard at des Artistes).on W.67th Street. The walls are adorned with frolicking, bare-breasted forest nymphs painted by Howard Chandler Christy. Enchanting. (Some 5l years ago, HG/BSK lived next door to the des Artistes at 27 W. 67th and sometimes popped into the cafe for a drink). The long closed Jams Restaurant introduced Alice Waters-influenced California cuisine to New York. The owners, Melvin Masters and Jonathan Waxman, hung striking modern art on the walls. There are two restaurants with caricatures on the walls–Sardi’s and Palm. Sardi’s features theatrical figures and Palm has Depression era stuff by cartoonists from nearby newspapers (The artists got a free meal). Palm has restaurants throughout the country and has caricatures of local personalities (and good customers) on its walls. When HG resided in Denver, HG often lunched at the Denver Palm outpost at a booth beneath a flattering caricature of HG. Fame.

End of a perfect day on Prince Edward Island. HG and Toby, The Wonder Dog, walked by the sea (HG gulped big drafts of salty intoxicating air. Toby bounded into the ocean. Bounded out. Too cold. Too salty.). HG shucked a dozen Savage Harbor oysters (from the By the Bay Fish Mart in St. Peters). Big, briny wonders. Given the strengthening of the US dollar, these cost about 80 cents each. Vodka on the rocks for HG as HG gobbled up the bargain bivalves au naturel. BSK topped them with shallot vinaigrette and sipped white wine. This was followed by Asian chicken salad (Chicken from last night’s savory spatchcocked bird). Shredded chicken was mixed with radish, cucumber, fennel, scallion, sweet onion, carrot slices plus cooked and chilled rice noodles. Dressing was BSK’s invention: Grated ginger and garlic, soy sauce, sesame oil and mirin. Canadian pecan butter tarts for dessert. (one of the thoughtful homecoming gifts provided by Sharon’s sister Noel M. and husband, Yossi M. They now live on PEI for much of the year and their presence is a blessing.) HG/BSK’s dinner was enhanced by a Mozart string quartette and views of sea and sunset outside a 60 foot window expanse. Yes, HG/BSK have relished many sunsets: The sunset over Great South Bay from the Fire Island rear deck. The sunset over Vancouver’s English Bay from the Mt. Pleasant loft. The sunset over the Hudson River from the 12th floor Upper West Side apartment. But, none were as panoramic, dramatic, colorful and long lasting as the sunsets HG/BSK enjoy on PEI summer nights.

As HG noted in a recent post, Bob’s Clam Hut in Kittery, Maine has been a traditional dining stop for fried clams and other casual New England treats when HG/BSK would motor through the state on the way to Prince Edward Island. Bob’s is famous and possibly the busiest (and most efficient) clam shack in New England. Well, this recent roadside meal was disappointing. HG ordered the seafood basket (fried clams, scallops, haddock, cole slaw, tartar sauce and fried onion rings). At a price of $34.95, HG/BSK expected an abundant amount of food. Wrong. Skimpy for the price. Anticipated clam bellies but got leathery strips. The haddock was ordinary. Scallops were very good. The scant portion of onion rings was just okay. The modest Blount Clam Hut in Riverside, R.I., is much better. HG/BSK will give Bob’s another chance when they drive back to the United States in the fall. Will order scallop rolls. HG thought HG/BSK would stop in Bangor and try the Zen Asian Cafe. Timing was wrong. Continued to drive and stopped in Pocologan, New Brunswick for the night. Destination was Clipper Shipp Beach Motel. The motel is in a time warp. Very 1950’s. Spotlessly clean. Comfortable big beds. A shower with plenty of hot water and good pressure. Clipper Shipp’s motto is: “A Room With A View.” The motel fronts on the Bay of Fundy and the sea view is lyrical. Very hungry HG/BSK went to nearby BayBreeze Motel and Cafe (also sporting a great view of the Bay of Fundy). Thought it might be too late for food. Were delighted to find the cafe owners seated in the empty, plainspoken dining room. The husband and wife team looked as if we had interrupted an argument but, happily, they agreed to feed HG/BSK. Two platters of mixed fried seafood–clams, cod, scallops with French fries and cole slaw. Much better than Bob’s at half the price. Delicious clam bellies. BSK had a glass of white wine and HG had a few shots of vodka washed down with a Moosehead Ale. Happy, surprising meal. Breakfasted there next morning. Dishwater coffee and terrible griddle cakes with synthetic tasting Aunt Jemima Syrup. Win some. Lose some.

In HG’s opinion, the recent Supreme Court decision about marriage isn’t about marriage. It is about equal rights under the law. This was long due recognition that LGBT citizens (Lesbian, bisexual, gay, transgendered) have equal rights (and obligations) under the law. The last paragraph of Justice Kennedy’s majority opinion summed it up eloquently: “No union is more profound than marriage, for it embodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization’s oldest institutions. They ask for equal dignity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.”

The dissenting opinions were, as to be expected, mean spirited. Justice Scalia disgraced himself by referring to the decision as a “putsch”, a term that is familiarly used to describe Adolf Hitler’s first attempt to seize power in Germany. HG is a Marxist and views most events through the lens of economics. HG grew up in New York City. The LGBT community was imperative in helping to make the city viable as an economic entity through its leadership role in theater, music, dance, art, design, fashion, publishing, communications and dining. This leadership made New York a tourist destination and a place where the wealthy and the fashionable wanted to live (and invest). And, of course, the city’s creative luster lured the talented young from all over the world. New York’s LGBT population made a disproportionate contribution to this New York and their creative labor generated taxes and paid for urban services. In addition, gays were the most intrepid pioneers of urban renewal. Gays brought their daring and design sense to battered neighborhoods, making them desirable. (developers soon piggybacked and the neighborhoods became pricey). Meanwhile, LBGT citizens were obligated to pay their taxes like everyone else but did not enjoy the same rights. In order to survive, most LBGT persons had to lead hidden, furtive lives. HG always wondered why New York’s LBGT population didn’t revolt or refuse to pay their taxes. While helping to make New York rich and colorful, LBGT persons were targets of vicious police actions and condemnation by organized religion. Sad to say, progressive citizens fought against anti-semitism and racial hatred, but rarely voiced any opposition to the mistreatment of the LBGT population (Feminism, as a mass movement, was far in the future). It took many decades of effort but justice (hopefully) has been achieved. Yes, the Scalias and Clarence Thomas’ will continue to spew their hatred but it seems unlikely that the clock can be turned back. Equality, not marriage, is the point. Marriage seems to be a rather frayed institution these days. But, as a mordant observer explained his strong support of same sex marriage: “They’ve got a right to be as miserable as everyone else.”

Pete Wells, the New York Times restaurant critic, recently rewarded Blanca, an edgy restaurant in Brooklyn’s gritty Bushwick neighborhood, three stars. At Blanca, customers sit at a counter and are served slivers of “inventive” food for $195 a person. No wine on its list sells for less than $80. According to HG’s figuring, this means a check for about $800 (or more) for dinner for two (food, wine, tax, tip). According to comments by Wells’s readers, you’ll still be hungry after dinner and in the mood for pizza or a burger. The direct opposite of Blanca is Los Andes in Providence, a restaurant much loved by HG and family. HG/BSK, Gifted Daughter Lesley R. and Brilliant Granddaughter Arianna R. dined there while visiting Rhode Island. As always, it was jammed with happy people of every ethnicity and color. Music from a Peruvian band. Los Andes is truly joyous. Once you enter, any vestige of gloom or depression disappears. HG sipped a favorite cocktail: Pisco Sour. Perfect, not too sweet sangria was poured. HG/BSK and their two companions shared some super generous portions of fresh and flavorful Latin-American and Peruvian food. A ceviche platter of tilapia, onions and herbs. A ceviche cocktail (served in an oversized Martini glass) of shrimp, squid, tilapia, mussels, etc. (HG would be happy to spend an evening sipping Pisco Sours and devouring these lush ceviche “cocktails”). Unusual Peruvian whipped potatoes with shredded chicken. A two-inch thick grilled swordfish steak. Rib eye steak (rare) from the Argentine barbecue “parilla.” Flan and an unusual meringue for dessert. Check the Los Andes website for full descriptions of these dishes and scores more. Prices are very reasonable, $30 to $40 per person (with wine). You will leave Los Andes very happy and very full. Service is efficient and pleasant. Los Andes is a professional operation, delivering excellent food with consistency. Deservedly popular, reservations are a must. Worth a special trip to Providence.

James Salter, the excellent writer who was a great favorite of other writers and knowing appreciators of exquisitely crafted sentences, is dead at age 90. HG never met Salter but HG feels he has lost a friend. Salter wrote novels, short stories, novellas, screenplays, criticism and much else. All wonderful. HG’s bedtime companion is a book he wrote with his wife, Kay: Life Is Meals: A Food Lover’s Book of Days. (HG did an appreciation of the book. Check the archive). It stands with A.J. Liebling’s “Between Meals” as an HG favorite work about dining — erudite and appetizing. Salter had a wit as dry as a flinty glass of Chablis. He once observed that most men have self delusions: That they look younger than they are. That they are good drivers. That they are good in bed. Thanks and farewell, James. HG thinks of you as a civilized companion whose works continue to delight and illuminate.

It is not simple (or cheap) to ship a dog by air from Santa Fe to Boston. Toby, The Wonder Dog, is too big to qualify for passenger travel. Has to go via cargo in a specified (expensive)) crate. Lengthy intricate paperwork required. Compliance with complicated TSA regulations. HG/BSK arrived at Santa Fe Airport at 5:45 AM for 8 AM flight to Denver (plane change for Boston). The Santa Fe Airport is a small 1930’s architectural gem (looks like it was built by CCC/WPA craftspersons). Personnel are chosen for a high degree of incompetence. Though BSK made meticulous arrangements for Toby (and BSK is always relentlessly thorough) United Airlines was in a state of regulatory confusion. Toby finally was placed in a crate some 15 minutes before flight time (almost two hours of computer nuttiness). Toby (and HG/BSK) made it to Boston safe and sound. Surprisingly, The Wonder Dog, seemed unruffled by his first experience flying the friendly miles. Met by Gifted Daughter Lesley R. who managed to negotiate the insane traffic between Boston and Providence. Roads are still a nightmare after the expenditure of billions on The Big Dig, the decade long construction project that was designed to unclog Boston’s arteries. Much joy at the end of a long day. Toby frolicked happily at Lesley’s Riverside R.I., home with Pip, the charming and welcoming family dog. With the sun setting over the waterfront landscape, Lesley provided a lush meal of Rhody sea specialties: smoked bluefish pate, snail salad, steamed little neck clams in a olive oil-wine-garlic-parsley sauce; fish cakes made of fresh cod (remoulade sauce); radish and fennel salad. Vodka before dinner and white wine with the food. Red wine with Robbiola cheese and a unique Italian honey and wine marinated whole walnut. Extraordinary. Meal was a pot of gold after a long day of travel.

HG’s beloved, late sister, Beulah Naomi Katz, loved to negotiate. The Yiddish word for negotiate is handel and Beulah was a world class handeler. She probably inherited this talent from HG’s Mom, Ida Kopkind Freeman. Beulah once took Mom to Best & Co., the venerable Fifth Avenue department store, to buy gloves. Mom asked the saleslady the price of a pair: “Nine dollars, Madam.” Said Mom: “I’ll give you five.” Beulah had to point out that while this tactic might work in The Bronx, it was ineffectual on Fifth Avenue. A jewelry vendor in a Morocco market said of Beulah, admiringly,: “She bargains like a Berber woman.” HG/BSK’s children enjoyed accompanying Beulah to American flea markets, church sales, stoop sales and yard sales. Whatever the price (a quarter), Beulah was sure to get it for less (“A quarter? This is my niece, an award winning journalist — she’ll pay a nickel”). However rarely, Beulah’s handeling skills didn’t always succeed. She was very fond of sweet Vidalia onions from Georgia. When in Atlanta for a family event, Beulah met the leading produce broker of Vidalia onions. Beulah wanted a monthly shipment and she wanted them at a wholesale price. No, said the broker, you will pay retail. A hot and heavy negotiation took place. The broker wouldn’t budge. An almost irresistible force had met an immovable object. Beulah got her Vidalias. She paid retail. HG enjoyed negotiating for rugs in the souk at Marrakech. This retail maze is one of the features of the colorful Moroccan city. The rug merchant would unroll many rugs. HG would favor one rug. The merchant would state the price. Astronomical. HG would look sad, and between sips of mint tea offered by the hospitable rug seller, would make a gracious speech: “Dear Sir, you have beautiful, rare rugs. I am honored to have seen them in your distinguished shop. Alas, though American, I have very limited means. The pressures of educating my children, etc. I have champagne tastes but a beer budget. I don’t want to insult you by offering the low sum I can afford.” The merchant was sympathetic. “You are very courteous. I will not be insulted. Name your price.” HG said the number. The merchant laughed. Was HG joking? After these preliminaries, the bargaining began. Back and forth flew the numbers. Finally, HG named his final price. An emphatic “No”. HG/BSK said goodbye and left the shop. After a few steps, HG felt a tug at his shoulder. It was the merchant. The final price was accepted. It was about 80% lower than the original sum asked by the seller. It was a very successful encounter. HG thought he had snared a bargain. The vendor, HG is sure, happily enjoyed a substantial profit. A satisfactory haggle.