HUNGRY GERALD

Angelo Di Benedetto (1913-1992), painter, sculptor, activist, was a frequent dinner guest of HG/BSK when they lived on a mountain ranch in the high Rocky Mountain foothills between Golden and Central City, Colorado. Angelo was BSK’s dedicated ally in her battle to preserve Clear Creek Canyon and defeat (successfully) efforts to destructively gravel mine the area. (Today, most of Clear Creek Canyon is owned by Jefferson County Open Space and the public has free access to one of the nation’s most scenic hiking destinations). Angelo, a man of Italian heritage, admired BSK’s Italian cuisine. Polenta with sausages in tomato sauce; Spaghetti Arabiatta; Rigatoni Amatriciana; Pork loin braised in milk; Linguine Puttanesca; Chicken Scarpariello. Angelo dove into these dishes with gusto. Angelo was a man of great artistic talent and strong convictions. In 1940, Life Magazine reproduced his paintings in an article about America’s most promising young painters. Angelo’s murals and major sculptures adorn public buildings and open areas throughout the United States. His paintings and smaller sculptures are in numerous museums and private collections. Angelo lived in Central City, founded during the 1859 Colorado Gold Rush. He bought the cavernous Sauer-McShane Warehouse there and lived and worked on two floors containing almost 15,000 square feet. Examples of Angelo’s extraordinary handiwork were evident everywhere. He welcomed visitors. (Among them were Mae West, Helen Hayes and Gypsy Rose Lee). Angelo enjoyed opera and when the Central City Opera was in session during the summer he brought many singers to HG/BSK’s home. (Once, in Denver, he punched and knocked down writer Jack Kerouac for insulting an opera singer friend). Angelo introduced HG to the Colfax Avenue Baths, in the once immigrant Jewish neighborhood of West Colfax Avenue, Denver. (Jewish sweatshop workers from New York, suffering from tuberculosis, migrated to Colorado starting in the 1880’s.They sought the clean air and sunshine that was supposed to cure the disease. The migration created two great Denver medical institutions founded by the Jewish community: National Jewish Health, one of the world’s most important respiratory disease research and treatments center; Rose Medical Center, a hospital which has been a pioneer in comprehensive women’s services including obstetrics and gynecology). The Colfax Avenue Baths is one of the few neighborhood reminders of the Colfax Jewish experience (there is also a small Hassidic synagogue nearby and there was a very depressed and dusty kosher grocery). Most of the patrons of the Colfax Baths are Hispanics with a scattering of Russians and old Jews. The Baths are women only on Thursday. Obviously, there are still some orthodox Jewish ladies who go there for “mikvah” (ritual bath) services.

BSK is, to put it simply, a master of chicken cooking. Chicken paillards (skinless, boneless chicken breasts, pounded thin, sautéed gently and served with a lemon-butter-capers sauce). Chicken curry (from the Vij’s cookbook). Chicken cooked with 40 cloves (!!) of garlic. Vietnamese chicken salad with lime juice, fish sauce, scallions, carrot shavings, chiles, etc. All of these dishes, and more, are part of BSK’s cluck-cluck repertoire. But, HG’s favorite is BSK’s roast “spatchcocked” chicken (spatchcocked being a flattened, whole chicken with the backbone removed). BSK marinates the bird in olive oil, garlic, lemon juice and herbs. Cooks it at 400 degrees for forty minutes. A bird from heaven. Crisp, golden skin and juicy meat. That’s what BSK served last night accompanied by sautéed, diced golden beets with onions; braised endive; tiny potatoes. Drank a super Charles and Charles Merlot blend from Washington State’s Walla Walla region. Hearty meal but HG still had some room for a finale of a Kozy Shack Chocolate Pudding (Sneer if you like — it leaves more of Kozy Shack’s Pudding and Flan for HG to enjoy!) and French VSOP Brandy laced with Peychaud’s Bitters.

A shocking omission in HG’s post: HOLIDAY FEASTING (DAY FIVE). Faithful and knowing readers must have been taken aback that Gifted Daughter Lesley R. omitted pasta from a welcoming Italian dinner for HG/BSK. No, indeed. An error by HG (ah, the vagaries of old age). After the antipasto and before the cheese, Lesley offered steaming bowls of tortellini with ample shavings of parmesan, a most comforting dish. HG remarked upon true excellence of the broth and was told it was Swanson’s Low Sodium. Surprisingly (to HG at least) Swanson’s, a widely distributed supermarket brand, was chosen by a top flight panel of knowing tasters as the best of packaged (or canned) broths. It may replace Trader Joe’s Free Range Chicken Broth on HG/BSK’s pantry shelves. HG reflected that Lesley always creates beautifully balanced Italian meals. Because the Riva family has resided in Italy for various periods, HG/BSK have enjoyed Lesley’s cuisine in Siena, Bologna and Venice. The emphasis was always on local recipes, traditions and ingredients—hearty bresaola, salumi, stuffed pasta in Bologna and seafood in all its delicious forms in Venice. When young Lesley and husband Massimo lived in Siena (before children and before Massimo’s professorship at Brown University) the emphasis was on dining in very good (and very cheap) little restaurants nestled in the Tuscan hills. Many savory memories of mushrooms, truffles, boar sausage and very rare steaks accompanied by beans. Viva Italia!!!

Hotel breakfast of coffee and raisin bran cereal. Off to Providence on Amtrak with BSK and grandson Haru. Penn Station was jammed but still managed to get ravenous Haru a slice of pepperoni pizza. Leisurely journey with plenty of time to read the New York Times. Arrived in Rhode Island ready for one of Gifted Daughter Lesley R.’s perfect Italian meals. This one didn’t disappoint. Antipasto of roasted peppers, anchovies, olives. Prosciutto and salami. Exceptional bread from Seven Stars Bakery. Perfectly ripe Gorgonzola. A chunk of Torrone candy for dessert. To bed with dreams of Russ & Daughters delicacies, the traditional HG/BSK family Christmas Eve feast, dancing in HG”s food obsessed old head.

The recent post on HG’s long ago Bar Mitzvah posed a challenge to those unfamiliar with Yiddish pronunciation. The ultimate hazard is the proper way to say ch. No, it is not pronounced like “charm” or “change” or “chance.” Thus, the word bucher is not pronounced similar to Sidney “Bechet” or like “butcher” with the elimination of the “t”. In Yiddish “ch” is a guttural sound. Like clearing your throat. It is the “ch” of challah (the egg bread baked with a distinctive twist and consumed on the Sabbath) and other essential culinary words such as chrain (horseradish, the eternal companion of gefilte fish). The sound is hard to master. Even BSK, a trained actress and perfect elocutionist, took some time to make the sound. Of course, after decades of marriage to HG, BSK’s Yiddish “ch” is as good as that of Molly Picon, the late, great star of the Yiddish musical stage. Many Yiddish words have entered common English usage. The only “ch” word that has gained popularity is chutzpah (nervy, arrogant behavior). HG grew up in a Yiddish speaking home. The language was often combined with English in a colorful conglomerate that could be dubbed “Yinglish.” When HG’s parents discussed topics forbidden to little HG like sex they spoke in Russian. The little fellow thought the language sounded musical.

Hey, what’s this? Woke up this morning to see white stuff covering the trees and meadow. Snow. Rare in New Mexico in mid-November. But, once snow arrives, HG enjoys it. For HG this doesn’t mean skiing, snowshoeing, snowboarding or any other frigid and energetic activity. Snow means a fire in the fireplace and a long breakfast of softly scrambled eggs with red salmon caviar, sour cream, toasted ciabatta, numerous cups of coffee. This is the sort of morning where HG catches up with magazines, newspapers, art books. This is the first snowfall for Toby, our newly acquired (but already beloved) dog, a Dandie Dinmont/ Jack Russell cross breed. Toby much enjoys the snow, leaping at snowflakes, sniffing and tasting. By noon the snowfall ends and the sun begins to shine as the snow melts. In the high desert atmosphere of New Mexico, HG expects the snow to have totally vaporized by the next morning. Much different than New York where snow immediately turns into nasty slush or HG/BSK’s mountain ranch in Colorado. There, snow fell in October and drifts lasted until July. No, HG was never tempted to move to sunny Florida, a state where the sun turns older folks into semi-roasted vegetables before hurricanes sweep them into the sea.

A sunny autumn morning in New Mexico and a happy HG is sipping morning coffee while perusing the dismal news. Ebola, Elections, Jihadis, etc., leave HG unfazed. That’s because HG’s coffee is served in a circa-1930’s cobalt blue milk pitcher adorned with the face of that delicious, singing dancing child movie star—inimitable, curly haired Shirley Temple. Little HG loved Shirley Temple (the late star was just a year older than HG). HG’s Mom received a Shirley Temple pitcher as a giveaway with a box of Wheaties (“The Breakfast of Champions.”). HG always had his milk or hot Droste’s cocoa in that lovely pitcher. HG was not alone. Millions of little Americans drank their beverages from Shirley Temple pitchers. Shirley made 43 movies and Hazel Atlas Glass Co. and U.S. Glass kept those pitchers rolling out of their factories. Knowing of HG’s fondness for Shirley, Gifted Daughter Lesley R. and husband Massimo, sent HG a Shirley Temple pitcher as an early birthday gift. Adding to the delight of the gift is the fact that little Lesley R., also adorned with a crown of curly hair, closely resembled Shirley. Paragons of cuteness.

Some years ago HG had public relations offices on New York’s W. 57th Street (between Sixth and Seventh Avenues), a territory that remains embedded in HG’s food focused mind as “sandwich heaven.” A quick walk west brought HG to Carnegie Delicatessen for a pastrami sandwich on authentic rye with Russian dressing, sour pickles, French fries and a Dr. Brown’s Cel-Ray beverage. It was a generous plate but nothing like the overstuffed, overpriced parody of a sandwich that Carnegie serves to gullible tourists today. A shorter walk west brought HG to a coffee shop (name not recalled) for a rare roast beef sandwich with raw sliced onion on good pumpernickel bread. Potato salad and an iced coffee completed the fast feast. Sometimes HG ventured east to a deli on Sixth Avenue for smoked Nova Scotia salmon with cream cheese on an onion roll. Hot coffee. When ambitious, HG could venture just a bit further to 58th Street east of Fifth Avenue for the ultimate in sandwich perfection: This was the Reuben sandwich prepared at Reuben’s Restaurant, one of HG’s all time favorite eateries. The sandwich was incomparable. Every element–corned beef, Swiss cheese, sauerkraut, Russian dressing, rye bread–was perfect and the grilling was impeccable. Closer than Reuben’s was Rumpelmayer’s and the Monte Cristo sandwich (described in a recent post). Of course, HG could have ignored sandwiches and simply walked across the street to the Russian Tea Room for borscht and pirozshki; blini with salmon caviar and sour cream or a simple plate of eggplant orientale. Unfortunately, these dishes cried out for an accompaniment of chilled vodka which HG would not been able to resist. So, disciplined HG saved the Russian Tea Room for dinners and weekend lunches. Every two weeks or so, HG’s pal Charles E., an important advertising copywriter, would lunch with HG. (An odd fact: Charles was Jack Kerouac’s teammate on a Columbia football team.) Charles and HG would indulge in a guilty treat: Combo platters (Shrimp chop suey, egg roll, pork fried rice) served with lots of duck sauce and chinese mustard at a dingy Chinese restaurant on Sixth just north of 58th. Preceded by egg drop soup, finished with an almond cookie. Like an illicit couple, HG and Charles would leave with furtive glances, hoping that no one would note how they had breached culinary values.

Last night, HG/BSK’s neighbor Karen K., The Dessert Queen (also a talented film producer/director), provided one of her delicious, organic, locally sourced, healthy desserts. Some months ago, dubious HG (who likes rich, unhealthy desserts) tasted Karen’s goat milk ice cream. HG was blown away on a cloud of flavor. So, HG was looking forward to her Apple Pan Dowdy. Equally delicious. Made HG recall the lyric to an old time tune: “Shoofly Pie and Apple Pan Dowdy makes your eyes light up and your stomach say ‘Howdy.’ ” And this led to musing about food in song. “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore.” “Mama’s little baby loves shortnin’ bread.” Fats Waller declaimed: “Shrimpers and rice. That’s very nice.” HG recalls (sung by whom?) a favorable song mention of New Orleans Jambalya. Harry Belafonte sang of bananas and there was a silly 1920’s novelty tune, “Yes, we have no bananas.” The Yiddish music hall hit, “Romania,Romania”, is HG’s favorite food tune since it mentions (with enthusiasm) three great dishes: Mamaliga (polenta); Karnazelach (a cigar shaped lamb burger–the lamb is mixed with chopped onions, garlic, parsley and grilled or barbecued); Pastrameleh (Pastrami). Of course, if one should eat these three treats to excess (as HG is apt to) the only song to listen to is “Agita” as sung by the Lou Canova (Nick Apollo Forte) character in the great Woody Allen film “Broadway Danny Rose.”

Joy. Antony and Claudia C. are back in their mountaintop Colorado home after a few years residence in Singapore. Sorely missed by HG/BSK, it was happy news to learn Antony and Claudia would be visiting New Mexico for two days. Some info concerning A. and C.: Antony is a distinguished mutual fund manager specializing in Asian and Pacific economies. Claudia is a print and radio journalist (a super interviewer) and the author of three important books on Asian economics and finance. Though both are American citizens, they remain, in accent, appearance and manner, very British. Antony is of noble lineage and looks it. He would fit in very nicely lording it over Knowlton Abbey. Claudia is a classic Anglo-Irish eccentric from a theatrical family. Auburn haired, colorful, open hearted and uninhibited. Her delicious flamboyance makes any room burst into life. Farewell any traces of boredom, the C’s have arrived. Antony is a dedicated collector of important automobiles. On their last visit to HG/BSK’s New Mexico home they arrived in Antony’s supercharged Aston-Martin convertible. Antony, who has the skills of a Grand Prix driver, put a heavy foot on the accelerator and took HG on a thrilling drive through the scenic Northern New Mexico mesas and valleys. How to describe it? It felt like sitting in a chariot powered by raging lions. This time Antony’s vehicle was a 2007 Bentley lined in rich, voluptuous leather and burnished woods. The ride? Like sitting in a leather chair at Boodle’s (Antony’s London club) with the world floating beneath you. All that was missing was a glass of vintage port and a Cuban Maduro leaf cigar.