HUNGRY GERALD

That’s the appropriate name for barbecue maestro Jonathan Frederiksen’s Santa Fe catering company. He describes his product simply: “A Texan’s BBQ.” Permit HG to add a few adjectives: Mouth watering, authentic, enticing, smoky, dreamy, heavenly. Crisp brown crusts meet falling-off-the-bone tender and juicy meat. Those are the ribs. And, the chicken is equally celestial. HG/BSK and Gorgeous Granddaughter Sofia R. had super generous portions of these wonders at a lively BBQ party at the beautiful Jacona home of pals Polly B. and David F. Some happy 50 friends and neighbors ate and drank to the background of guitarist Marc Yaxley and vocalist-percussioinst Julie Hawkins (HG has written about these talented musicians in an earlier post: “Joy and Sadness”. The tables were set on Polly/David’s scenic terrace with dramatic views of the Jemez Mountains. Drinks were served beneath the shady portale and there was an array of flavorful accompaniments to the BBQ: Cole slaw and potato salad, of course, but also a New Mexican casserole of egg and cheese custard enlivened with roasted chiles. Two barbecue sauces added zing to the smoked meats: Texas traditional and Carolina mustard and vinegar. Frederiksen’s barbecue apparatus (handcrafted in Texas) is huge and produces exemplary heat and smoke. (It would make SJ, the Brooklyn backyard BBQ virtuoso, very acquisitive). Jonathan labored over it for some five hours to produce his meaty delectables. The afternoon sun disappeared. Giant full moon appeared. Weather cooled. The last guests (including HG/BSK) gathered around the warming blaze in the fire pit. HG, a nightcap of tequila and lime slices in hand, contemplated life and good fortune. Friends like Polly/David–generous, talented, life enhancing people. A wife like BSK–endless virtues. Funny, smart children and grandkids. Hey, these golden years are really golden.

Okay, HG is going to make you very hungry. Make sure you have some sustaining snacks available. Gorgeous Granddaughter Sofia R. graduated from prep school in Santa Fe (The Desert Academy) and had a birthday. The R. family (Gifted Daughter Lesley, Brilliant Granddaughter Arianna and Distinguished Profesore Massimo) came to New Mexico for the festivities and much feasting ensued, culminating on the last two days of the visit. Graduation Day afternoon was sunny and bright. Ceremonies and speeches were brief (thankfully). Sofia, in a stunning white dress, was the most beautiful of the graduates. (This is a totally objective opinion, not swayed by the tiniest bit of grandfatherly adoration). Appetites nicely sharpened by their collective pride in the graduate, HG/BSK and the Family R. were off to the Compound Restaurant to celebrate. (BSK was the height of fashion in rarely worn high heels–she didn’t trip–snug skirt, Parisian white blouse, Lisa Jenks silver and pearls necklace). Flattering light bathed the white plaster walls of The Compound. It was off to the culinary races: A chilled bottle of sparkling Gruet Blanc de Blanc and a bottle of Dolcetto d’Alba. The appetizers: King Crab salad with avocado, black truffles, baby lettuce; Lobster, shrimp and cubed mango salad on a half head of Bibb lettuce; Tuna tartare with preserved lemon and black caviar; Spring pea soup with mushroom arancini; Osso Buco capelletti with veal shank ragu, peas and fava beans; White asparagus on brioche bruschetta with a poached egg, crisp prosciutto, Hollandaise. (Getting hungry, Readers? Save some room for the main dishes). Main dishes: Rack and shank of lamb with baby artichokes and a sauce of garlic and Meyer lemons; Crisp fried chicken schnitzel with a caper, wine and lemon sauce accompanied by sautéed leaf spinach; Pan roasted chicken breast, chicken sausage, potato puree, baby onions and fava beans.; Wild mushrooms and polenta with a truffle relish and shaved parmesan. The desserts: Confections of melted chocolate cake, hazelnut tart, ice creams, meringues, dark chocolate twigs. Sweet finale. Up in the morning for energetic swims and walks with Toby, The Wonder Dog. Then, Lesley R. (assisted by BSK) did some serious cooking while Profesore Massimo manned the barbecue. Food for a six to nine PM outdoor party for the graduate. A crowd of 30 (friends, neighbors, Sofia’s prep schoolmates). The menu: Pulled pork sliders (a Lesley R. signature dish) with southern barbecue sauce; Olive oil and herb brushed barbecued chicken thighs on a bed of greens; Potato salad (high in flavor and low in mayonnaise). Ditto the cole slaw. Room temperature fusili pasta in freshly made basil pesto. Cheese straws. Potato chips. Artisan bread. Red wine. White wine. Four varieties of beer and ale. Lemonade for the younger folks. Vodka for the incorrigibles. The Dessert Queen, the inimitable Karen K., provided the ultimate carrot cake (enriched by grated fresh ginger and other secret ingredients). There was a chocolate birthday cake with Sofia’s and BSK’s names on it (BSK has an upcoming birthday in a few days). There was a wee bit of grappa for limited amount of imbibers. Just a wonderful party in a wonderful setting, the terrace and portale of HG/BSK’s home facing the colorful Barrancas (cliffs and mesas) and Gary and Natasha Gundersen’s meticulously tended organic farm. Lesley R. and BSK arranged tables and seating comfortably. Lots of flowers, candles and ambiance. These are women who know to make things festive. Their family is grateful.

Flank steak used to be cheap. (Alas, no more). Chinese chefs used it in many stir fries and Italians pounded it tender before rolling it around savory stuffing to make Rollatini. (Sometimes Italian cooks used thin slices of eggplant rather than meat). HG/BSK learned the secret for making excellent flank steak from the very eccentric Andre R.. He was a frequent visitor when HG/BSK had a Fire Island beach home. Andre got older. His girl friends got younger. Andre and his young lady, upon arrival, would strip off their clothes and run naked into the sea. HG/BSK’s little children and their friends were always bemused and delighted by this display of free spirit, l960’s behavior. Andre would marinate a flank steak for a day in a mixture of soy sauce, honey and sliced garlic. Barbecued quite rare. Sliced thinly across the grain. The meat was tender with a blackened semi-sweet Asian crust. Made a great meal accompanied by summer sweet corn on the cob. BSK cooked a flank steak a la Andre a few days ago. (BSK pan broiled the meat in a very hot cast iron pan). Good eating with BSK’s salad (peeled roasted peppers, chopped sweet onions, Kumatoes, arugula) with Maytag blue cheese dressing. Dinner the next night was the left over flank steak, sliced thinly, served over a Vietnamese-influenced salad of rice noodles, spring onions, Persian cucumbers, frisee, carrots and cherry tomatoes. It was dressed with a combination of sesame oil, soy sauce, grated ginger and garlic, Red Boat fish sauce. Sensational. HG had left over salad for lunch the next day. Economical BSK hd provided a tasty group of meals from one modestly priced Trader Joe’s flank steak.

Henry Gallin, HG’s friend and business colleague for more than 40 years, died recently at his Arizona home. His death was a blessing. A stroke had left him desperately impaired, unable to walk or speak. A generous human being and a caring friend, Henry had a brilliant career as a New York real estate executive specializing in commercial leasing. An expert negotiator, he more than held his own in wrangles with the city’s tough realty billionaires. Seeking a new life with an emphasis on the outdoor environment, Henry moved to Crested Butte, Colorado, where he was a very successful and imaginative real estate developer and community activist. Then on to Denver where he triumphed as an office building investor (Fortunate HG/BSK were minor players in his activities). Finally, in Arizona, he was active as a real estate consultant to one of the country’s largest financial institutions. HG and Henry (Gallin was head of the financial district office of Edward S.Gordon Co.and HG was the public relations consultant to the Gordon business) dined often at the tragically ill-fated Windows on the World Restaurant located at the top of the World Trade Center tower. HG/BSK frequently ate and drank with Henry and his beautiful Texan wife, Judy, at restaurants and mutual homes in Colorado, Vancouver, New Mexico and Arizona. Wherever he dined, Henry demanded firm assurances from the staff that no cilantro would sully any dish he ordered. The very thought of the herb could make him ill. Daring in business, Henry was a conservative at the table. He found HG’s taste for innards and esoteric sea creatures unnerving.. “You order things that look like they could walk off the plate,” he would wonder. Rest in peace, dear Henry, there is no cilantro and no slithery creatures in your future.

HG, a very senior fellow, knows that –“As It Must To All Men”–the Moloch Hamoves (The Angel of Death) will pay HG an unwelcome visit in the future. Not too soon, hopefully. Thus, there is the matter of Last Words to be considered. HG has been very fortunate. For more than a half century HG has lived with BSK, certainly the most beautiful, loving and multi-talemted woman in the world. HG has the best children and grandchildren, a source of unending joy. HG lives in two wonderful places–New Mexico and Prince Edward Island. In previous years, HG lived in New York (happily, before the isle of Manhattan became a theme park for oligarchs). Lived by the sea in Nantucket and Fire Island. Relished the equestrian life on a Colorado mountain ranch. Was fortunate enough to experience the glorious urbanism of Vancouver, B.C. and the Mile High City of Denver. HG has been fortunate in receiving much love and, of course, has gloried in the pleasures of the knife, fork, dish and glass. So, when the final moment arrives, HG presumes last words will not be eloquent. Possibly a grunt of anger at the end of it all. HG doesn’t believe famous last words ever got uttered. As a publicist who encouraged some profitable myth making, HG is aware that many heroic words can’t bear objective scrutiny. HG and most American children learned the eloquent last words of 21-year-old patriot and Continental Army officer Nathan Hale. During the Revolutionary War, George Washington sent Hale to New York to spy on the British. He was captured and hung. On the gallows he said (or didn’t say), these immortal words:”I only regret that I have but one life to give for my country.” HG is skeptical. All reports indicate Hale was heroic, but there is little positive proof he said those stirring words. In fact, the exact location of Hale’s New York hanging has never been identified precisely. Third Avenue and 66th Street? The site of what is now Grand Central Terminal or further downtown at City Hall Park? Some years later there was another hero whose last words gained some immortality. He was Yosef Trumpeldor (1880-1920). A very tough soldier, Trumpeldor, a Russian and a Jew, joined the Russian army in 1902 and fought in the war with Japan. He was hit by shrapnel, lost an arm, but kept fighting. He said: “I have another good arm to lose for the motherland.” (HG finds this quite improbable). Trumpeldor received many decorations (including the Cross of Saint George) and became the first Jewish officer in the army. Later, Trumpeldor became a Zionist and with Ze’ev Jabotinsky, the fiery founder of Zionist Revisionism, helped organize the Jewish Legion and Zion Mule Corps which fought with the British during the Middle East campaigns of World War One. Trumpeldor was with the Mule Corps at Gallipoli and was wounded in the shoulder. (The Zion Mule Corps provided many men who later became officers in Haganah and the Israel Defense Corps). After the war, Trumpeldor settled in Palestine where he became a member of Hashomer, the Jewish self defense force (founded in 1909) that was the predecessor of Haganah. In 1920, the Jewish settlement of Tel Hai near the Syrian border was attacked by a force of some 100 Arabs (Syrian Arabs were engaged in a war with France –which France won). The Arab attackers of Tel Hai believed mistakenly that French soldiers were being sheltered at the settlement. Hashomer sent Trumpeldor to defend the settlement. Some 8 Jews and 5 Arabs were killed in the battle. Trumpeldor was hit in the hand and stomach by Arab bullets. Before he died he said: “It does not matter. It is good to die for our country.” He became a Zionist hero and those words are carved in a monument at the site of his death. Some historians have said that Trumpeldor, furious at his fate after having faced death so many times in the battles with Japanese and Turks, uttered a Russian curse. Roughly translated, it is: “Fuck your mother !!” This seems more probable. A rough oath at the end of a rough soldier’s life.

On October 21, 1929 (just days before the stock market crash which ushered in The Great Depression) there was a sell out crowd at New York’s Madison Square Garden watching five 5-round boxing matches. In each bout one of the fighters was Jewish—Max “Slapsy Maxie” Rosenbloom; Yale Okun (fresh from his win over heavyweight champion to be, “Cinderella Man” James Braddock); Al Singer “The Bronx Beauty”, Ruby Goldstein “The Jewel of the Ghetto” and Jackie “Kid” Berg. The fantastic, Semitic fistic program, promoted by Samuel “Subway Sam” Rosoff, the Jewish builder of New York’s subways, was a benefit for the Palestine Emergency Fund and “The Stricken Jews of Palestine.” In six days (August. 23-29, 1929) some 132 Jews had been killed, 232 seriously injured and many left homeless by Arab rioters incensed at the Jewish presence at Jerusalem’s Western Wall and the increasing Jewish migration to Palestine. Some of the worst bloodshed was in Hebron. The 600 Jewish residents there refused help from the Haganah (then an illegal Jewish self defense group). The Jewish Hebronites said they would be protected by the Arab elders. They were wrong. Some 68 Hebron Jews were murdered. Let’s segue to 1948. “Slapsy Maxie”(Damon Runyon had given him the nickname because, though a very clever boxer, Rosenbloom was a light puncher) was a comic actor in the movies (usually playing a punchy lug). He fronted a comedy club in Hollywood, “Slapsy Maxie’s.” His boxing career was long over (Four years as light-heavweight champ, 298 fights with 229 wins). LA Mobster Mickey Cohen (once a featherweight boxer himself) was with Ben “Bugsy” Siegel a founder of Murder Inc. and leader of the “Jewish Mafia” and the alleged real owner of “Slapsy Maxie’s.” It was at the club that Ben Hecht made a legendary speech to an audience of Cohen, Siegel and other Jewish gangsters, bookmakers, hustlers and gamblers. Hecht was a prominent screen writer, novelist and journalist. He was an ardent supporter of Irgun (the Israeli terrorist cell headed by Menachem Begin). Hecht asked the audience of tough guy Jews to contribute money for the purchase of arms for Irgun. Some $200,000 was raised. There is a division of opinion on what happened to the money. Some claim Cohen simply kept the dough. A writer devoted a book to an implausible theory linking Mickey Cohen, Menachem Begin, the Mossad and the Israeli government to the death of Marilyn Monroe and the assassination of President Kennedy. Obviously, there is a glut of far fetched conspiracy theories concerning these events, one more outrageous than the next.

Nir Bareket, age 76, died last week and was buried in Toronto, the city where he had lived for many years. Nir, an eminent photographer, was HG/BSK’s dear friend for more than 50 years. They met when Nir was a photographer at the Young & Rubicam advertising agency in New York and BSK was a young actress. Nir wanted exposure for his skills so volunteered to provide “head shots” for BSK. The portraits ended up being too beautiful and creative for commercial head shots but valuable as art work and invaluable in creating a lifelong friendship — In HG/BSK’s New Mexico home there is a portrait of young BSK from that session—a sensitive face dramatized by a sweep of dark hair and BSK’s beautiful eyes. Nir once said about his career: “Photography isn’t a sprint. It’s a marathon.” His brilliant marathon of a career took place in Israel (where he was born and served in the IDF), Europe, New York and Toronto. In May 2014, Toronto’s Market Gallery featured a retrospective: Nir Bareket; My Eyes Have Seen. Celebrating 50 Years of Photography. The show included Nir’s theatrical photos (the director of Canada’s Theater Museum praised Nir for keeping alive memorable theatrical moments); Toronto street scenes; Ellis Island in New York harbor; New Mexico and more. The obituary notice in Canadian newspapers accurately described Nir Bareket: “An artist, photographer, mentor to many, honest friend, fierce soul, a dreamer and a realist, beloved partner, father and grandfather,” Irreplaceable, Nir will live in the memories of HG/BSK and many others.

Restaurant cooking is probably better than ever. Chefs are more creative and less provincial. They are willing to stretch themselves, using the spices, foods and flavors of numerous countries in their cooking. And, many chefs are seeing outside the confines of their kitchen and addressing global problems of climate change and health by sourcing sustainable (and local) produce, meat and fish. However, because of rising costs and (specially in New York) the crushing burden of rent, most restaurants lack the two important qualities that make dining out memorable: Generosity and Hospitality. These qualities always impressed HG/BSK when dining in Italy. So many happy memories of modest trattorias and osterias where HG/BSK were treated like family members rather than tourists with a very modest amount of Italian language skills. Chefs would often send a few additional gratis tastes to HG/BSK’s table. HG has a happy memory of the proprietor of a seaside restaurant walking through the room with a big bowl of seafood risotto insisting the customers have a taste. Paris bistros and brasseries (for the most part) have lost their welcoming spirit. Today, after being assured HG/BSK’s reservations are in order, the maitre d’ seats them in a ghetto reserved for non-Francophones—mainly Japanese and Chinese tourist plus boisterous Germans and Russians. This is in sharp contrast to the welcomes of yesteryear. HG recalls a lunch some 30 years ago at Chez Georges, then as now, an excellent bistro serving classic French food. Cold November day and HG/BSK arrived without a reservation. No matter, said the smiling bistro owner, the wait will be short. Made them comfortable standing at the bar. Poured two glasses of fine Brouilly and provided some dry sausage to nibble. Seated in about seven minutes, HG/BSK relished their salads of frisee with lardons and poached eggs. Ate other good things –rare duck breast, sole meuniere, pommes frites., etc. That old time French bistro spirit was always alive and well at the delightful Veau d’ Or on E. 60th Street in New York. When you were seated, the proprietor immediately provided you with an appetite sharpening saucer of mussels in a savory mustard sauce. Waiters enjoyed HG’s exuberant pleasure in Veau d’ Or’s lusty cuisine. When HG knocked off some delicious quenelles in record time, the waiter replenished the plate. Smiled, No charge. A happy time.(The photo is of the late Robert Treboux, the genial owner of Le Veau d”or. He said of his traditional restaurant: “Those seeking trends should go elsewhere.”)

In HG’s Bronx youth basketball ruled. Sure, there were plenty of softball games, rough and tough sandlot football battles, bleacher seats at Yankee Stadium (to watch the Yanks) and at the Polo Grounds (to watch the football Giants). But, the game that captured the hearts and minds of Bronx guys was basketball. Every Sunday, HG played three-man ball on the asphalt courts of Public School 86 (on Reservoir Avenue) or the Williamsbridge Oval (near Mosholu Parkway). Winning threesome kept the court. Losers left and another trio took their place. First team to score 16 points won. HG was no star. Just a very competitive and fearless journeyman. After games were over, the hungry young men shared huge, greasy pizzas at Joe’s Pizzeria on Jerome Avenue or numerous hot dogs with sauerkraut and mustard at nearby delicatessens. Saturday night was reserved for college games at Madison Square Garden. St. John’s, N.Y.U., C.C.N.Y., Manhattan, L.I.U. all had powerhouse teams and legions of manic fans. Apres game it was off to the Blue Ribbon, a German restaurant, for huge apple pancakes and beer. Currently, HG is watching the NBA playoffs. The players, in HG’s opinion, are the greatest athletes in the world. They combine size, strength, coordination, speed, grace, endurance and a fiery will to win. In recent days HG has seen ferocious, brilliant games culminating in last second heroics by Derrick Rose, Chris Paul, Paul Pierce and Lebron James. Yes, Europeans call soccer “the beautiful game” and Canadians are nuts about hockey…Fuhgeddabout it!! The game that’s got everything is NBA play-off hoops. And, depleted after vigorous TV watching, HG sits down to sumptuous eats prepared by BSK. Beats the hell out of pizza and hot dogs.

Okay. This is the last of HG’s ruminations about old (mainly Jewish) prize fighters. HG has been fascinated by the fighting names of two battlers (they fought as welterweights and middleweights) Soldier Bartfield and Sailor Friedman. Soldier (1892-1970) was born Jakob Bartdfeldt in Hungary. He grew up in Brooklyn and was one of the busiest (some 220 fights between 1911-1932) and toughest fighters of his era. Soldier fought the best including champions Ted “Kid” Lewis (6 times), Mickey Walker (3 times), Benny Leonard, Jack Britton (7 times), Harry Greb (3 times). Soldier beat Lewis once, Britton once and Greb once. Soldier’s nephew was the very good Brooklyn middleweight, Danny Bartfield. During a comparatively short career (1940-1948),he had a record of 41 wins and five losses. (An aside: Britton was Ernest Hemingway’s favorite fighter and is a prototype for Hemingway’s fictional portraits of fighters. Britton fought Ted ‘Kid” Lewis the great Jewish welterweight from London’s East End, some 20 times. Each was a close bout and the welterweight championship shifted between them.) Soldier got his military name from three years of US Army service in Texas (presumably chasing Pancho Villa). Sailor Friedman (1899-1968) was born William Friedman in Chicago, ran away from home at the age of 14, settled in South Philadelphia. Sailor got his nautical name from three years (1915-1918) service aboard a US Navy battleship. He moonlighted from the ship to have his first professional fight in 1916. During his career (1916-1928) he had 119 fights (winning about half). Highlights were a losing battle with Mickey Walker for the welterweight title and two losing efforts against another Philadelphia fighter, Lew Tendler. Sailor was not an exemplary citizen. His manager was Max (Boo Boo) Hoff, Philadelphia gangland boss, bootlegger, gambling house operator . Sailor worked in various Hoff gambling enterprises and was one of his bodyguards. Sailor was charged with a Chicago murder in 1922 (killing of an illicit booze transporter). Convicted but exonerated. In 1923, on the eve of a Milwaukee fight, Friedman was beaten bloody by three assailants and left senseless. Cops linked it to a Chicago gangland dispute. In 1928, Friedman was arrested for assault but released. Surprisingly, Sailor had a streak of patriotism (or a desire to leave troubling circumstances in Philadelphia). In 1942, at the age of 43, he re-enlisted in the wartime US Navy. Record books reveal another Sailor Friedman who fought in New Orleans five times. There was also a Sailor Freeman (no relation of HG) who had one fight. And, there was also an obscure Soldier Freeman (no relation). Go figure.