The Knish

February 12th, 2015 § 0 comments § permalink

The Knish is an Eastern European street food introduced to the United States by turn of the century Jewish immigrants from Belorussia. The Knish is a flaky pastry filled with a variety of stuffings—potato, kasha (buckwheat groats), spinach, cheese. A famous name in knishes (and loan-sharking…but that is another story) is Yonah Schimmel. Yonah began selling knishes from a pushcart on New York’s Lower East Side in 1890. The Yonah Schimmel knish bakery has been at its present location on East Houston Street since 1910. (There seems to be a spelling confusion. The big sign on the store says “Yonah Shimmel” even though the correct spelling is “Schimmel.”) Another top knish baker (alas, departed) on the Lower East Side was a woman named Gussie Schwebel who ran an eponymous knishery near Schimmel’s on Houston Street. Gussie was a flamboyant self promoter with a flair for publicity. In 1942, she wrote a letter to First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt in which she volunteered to bake knishes for our brave soldiers overseas. The suggested pastries would provide needed nourishment. She followed that up with another letter offering to deliver a sampling of hot knishes to the Roosevelt town house on E. 65th Street. Mrs. Roosevelt accepted the offer and the Jewish Daily Forward newspaper ran a front page story headlined: “Mrs. Roosevelt To Taste Jewish Knishes.” When delivery day arrived the Roosevelt home was surrounded by reporters, cameramen and a curious crowd. Canny Gussie Schwebel (or her press agent) had tipped off the newspapers. Mrs. Roosevelt, who didn’t enjoy being the target of press agentry, refused the knishes. Thus, the U.S. military had to fight World War Two without the benefit of nourishing knishes. (The information about Gussie Schwebel and Eleanor Roosevelt is from Laura Silver’s invaluable,researched book: “Knish: In Search of the Jewish Soul Food”. Published by Brandeis. The link is http.// www. knish.me).The knish, long only found in New York City, is making a modest comeback. Knish bakeries have opened in Los Angeles and a few other cities. Zabar’s (on New York’s Upper West Side) bakes knishes and sells them online. Gabila’s (located in Copiague, L.I.) is a mass producer of knishes who claim to have sold over a billion. HG has never fancied knishes. HG was spoiled by his Mom’s incomparable cheese (potato or kasha) blintzes served from a hot frying pan placed on the dining room trivet. Accompanied by a big bowl of rich sour cream. Ah!!!

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Asian Delights in the City Different

February 10th, 2015 § 2 comments § permalink

No, Santa Fe isn’t Vancouver (or the Flushing neighborhood of New York) but HG still manages to enjoy some authentic, savory Asian cooking. Talin Market sells a large variety of international food. Lots of Indian spices, Chinese, Korean and Indonesian imports, etc. One corner of the store is a ramen bar serving the noodle soups as well as specialty teas. And, then there’s the pop-up restaurant: Every Monday a Szechuan family takes over and produces dumplings, fiery dan dan noodles, delicious bao sandwiches, hot and sour soup, special egg drop soup and other delights. It has become so popular that Talin has installed extra dining tables to meet the demand. The dumplings (pork, shrimp, lamb or vegetarian) are fresh and juicy. The dips range from traditional to Szechuan mai lai mouth numbing goodness. The bao sandwiches are creative (a bargain at $3.75). The “Duckwich”, described as “The best Asian sandwich”, contains a generous piece of roast duck plus green apple slices and scallions. The braised pork belly sandwich has finely shredded cabbage and an exotic red sauce. On Friday and Saturday, Talin offers Vietnamese spring rolls and Japanese curries. The longtime Santa Fe standby for sushi, sashimi and other Japanese delights is Shohko Cafe. Ramen is served but the restaurant’s specialty is great, greaseless tempura prepared with farm to table ingredients. HG is also very fond of the restaurant’s meticulous sushi creations, grilled fish and unagi hand rolls. Santa Fe has a few Indian restaurants but, with the aid of the very good VIJ’s cookbooks, HG/BSK confine their Indian meals to home cooking. However, one of HG’s favorite Indian foods is the Dosa, a lovely chickpea pancake served off the grill and consumed with a variety of fillings, sauces and chutneys. Similar to, but lighter than, the Mexican tortilla. Difficult to make at home. Thus, HG was overjoyed to see a sign on Cerrillos Road advertising the imminent opening of a South Indian restaurant—Paper Dosa–specializing in these delights. For a small city, Santa Fe continues to astound with its great variety of taste experiences (plus an overabundance of art, music, cinema, theater and other aspects of culture).

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Neighbors got together for a celebratory feast. The place: The beautiful home of Polly B. and David F., a talented, life enhancing couple. Their big kitchen-dining-living room is everyone’s fantasy of Santa Fe. Antique beams and thick adobe walls. A monumental kiva fireplace containing an abundance of blazing logs. Well lit and meticulously placed works of art. The celebration: Polly B., a noteworthy photographer, has faced (with bravery and good humor) eye surgery. Success at last. The beautiful woman can see. An unflattering eye patch has been removed. Good reason to eat, drink and laugh a lot. Present at the celebration were two of Polly’s three daughters, Jennifer (who lives in Beijing) and Leslie (who lives in Washington and Cape Breton Island) plus neighbor Karen K., the film producer who has been dubbed The Dessert Queen by HG because of her genius at crafting sweet things. HG/BSK brought appetizers of chilled prawns (with remoulade sauce) and a spread of smoked salmon. Polly’s daughters grilled salmon and accompanied the moist and flavorful fish with a tangy red pepper sauce, an unusual mushroom risotto and a nicely dressed green salad. There was a good, warmed baguette and a lush cheese course. Needless to say, much Pinot Grigio and Cabernet was drunk (preceded by potato vodka). The feast concluded with Karen K.’s Ile Flottante, HG/BSK’s favorite dessert. Karen K.lived up to her royal soubriquet. Well, that’s life with HG/BSK’s New Mexico neighbors. So, what do your neighbors do (besides playing loud music and arguing loudly) ?

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BSK Bistro

February 5th, 2015 § 0 comments § permalink

HG was in the mood for a traditional Paris bistro meal last night and, of course, BSK rose to the occasion. The only things missing were the scent of Gitanes cigarettes and a scratchy recording of Edith Piaf in the background. Look at the photo. There are two juicy grilled lamp chops (given a nice rubdown with garlic). Some snow pea pods stir-fried with garlic and ginger (a bow to the Asian influence on modern day bistros). Instead of the traditional pommes frites, BSK served herbaceous, lemony couscous. Decorated the plate with a grilled tomato and some Greek yogurt (always nice with lamb). Yes, a simple plate of big flavors. Typical BSK cuisine. A civilized French meal at home, in a bistro or at a fancy restaurant, is always multi-course. So, HG started with Whole Foods’ surpassingly tasty faux crabmeat salad. Followed the lamb with cheese and mache salad. Ended with a pale but pleasant substitute for creme caramel: Kozy Shack flan. Pinot Grigio with the fake crab. Cabernet with the lamb and the cheese. French brandy with the flan. If someone has to lead the good culinary life, it might as well be HG. (with thanks to BSK).

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Blood Oranges

February 2nd, 2015 § 1 comment § permalink

Blood oranges are one of nature’s blessings. Cut a blood orange in half, eat the pulp, drink the crimson juices and you get a tasty burst of summer energy that is particularly welcome when winter skies are grey and wind is frigid. Blood oranges are a pleasant addition to alcohol. HG squeezes a quarter of an orange into a glass of white wine. Adds ice and a dash of Aperol (or Campari). A nice variation on the classic Venetian “Spritz.” HG often gives vodka the same treatment. With tequila, HG adds half a lime to temper the orange sweetness. Slices of blood orange are the perfect dessert after a Chinese (or Indian) meal. Gifted Daughter Lesley R. makes a sublime polenta cake topped by glazed slices of blood orange. (Gorgeous Granddaughter Solfia delighted the old folks by making a very presentable version of this cake a few weeks ago). FYI: David Lebovitz has a wonderful recipe for this cake on his Sweet Life In Paris blog.

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The Great Italian Sausages Of New York & New Jersey

January 31st, 2015 § 0 comments § permalink

HG must make an admission: Despite the best wife in the world, glorious weather, stirring natural vistas, a beautiful home, interesting neighbors, history, art, culture and an abundance of smoky, lush green chiles HG’s life is incomplete. Why? The great New York/New Jersey Italian fennel sausage is unobtainable in the Land of Enchantment. Yes, Whole Foods, Trader Joe’s, Kaune’s and every supermarket display and purvey “Italian” sausages. “Italian” ? They are as Italian as Mitt Romney. They should be labeled “Mormon” sausages. They lack the fennel seeds and other time honored ingredients that make the New York Italian sausage so juicy, flavorful and memorable. During the opening scenes of the film, “Godfather II”, that wonderful actor/director/playwright/teacher Mike Gazzo (playing Frankie Pietangeli) laments the absence of sausage and peppers in Nevada. Frankie’s woe echoes HG’s. What HG has is memories. Sausage, peppers and onions served on good bread, dispensed from the back of a truck in Greenwich Village. The same dish bought from a cart on Lexington Avenue, eaten while racing to a business appointment. Sausage and peppers at the San Gennaro Festival in Manhattan (years ago when the the Festival was smaller and food was better) and at traditional festivals in the Mott Haven section of The Bronx. Sausage and peppers at old time, cheap restaurants in the Belmont section of The Bronx and in Little Italy (before it became a tourist travesty). There were Italian restaurants in northern New Jersey that made an epic of the dish. Jerry’s in East Rutherford (tragically, closed after many decades of operation) did it best. This is how The New York Times described it in 1998: “Jerry’s combines garlicky, crisp and juicy Chicken Scarpariello (chunks of chicken on the bone) with great fruity rounds of pepper (both hot and sweet), fried onions, crunchy Red Bliss potatoes, and plenty of Jerry’s fennel-scented sausage.” Yes, this expanded plain spoken “sausage and peppers” into a regal feast. This was an enormous platter of food. HG/BSK would dig in, drink a lot of modest Chianti and manage to finish about 60%. Appetizer? Dessert? Fuhgeddabout it !!!

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Dislikes (and Likes)

January 27th, 2015 § 3 comments § permalink

Cuisine experts agree: Fat is flavor. While observing some degree of intelligent restraint, HG enjoys animal fat. Well marbled steaks. Juicy hamburgers made with good ground chuck. Crisp chicken skin. Pork bellies. Bacon. The heavenly Italian lardo. Pork chops (from chubby, non-athletic organic pigs, not the current crop of genetically engineered porkless pigs). This doesn’t mean HG loves all rich foods. Hates cream soups. Creative BSK makes any number of green, pureed soups that are rich in flavor but contain no cream. HG was never a fan of many old fashioned dishes (thankfully banished from most restaurant menus) that relied upon gobs of cream and butter. Lobster Thermidor used to be a dish that symbolized regal living. Excellent Maine lobster was overwhelmed by bechamel sauce, butter, cream, cheese, mustard powder, garlic, shallots, etc. The lovely sea quality of lobster vanished. Chicken met a similar sad fate in the form of chicken a la king, chicken tetrazzini, chicken in champagne sauce. Vile. There was another “luxury” dish HG never understood: Beef Wellington. This is filet mignon layered with pureed mushrooms, mustard and (sometimes) prosciutto, enclosed in puff pastry, and roasted. A pride of the English holiday table. Not a fave of HG. Filet mignon is a tasteless cut of meat and covering it in pastry, etc., creates an elaborate dish without doing much for the meat. HG is not fond of extra lean meats like beef tenderloin and pork tenderloin. Flavorless. For a quick snack, HG does an italian thing: Rubs a thick slice of good, toasted bread with a raw garlic clove. Gives it a hit of extra virgin olive oil. Better than slathering bread with anything cheesy or creamy. And, healthier.

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Mussels

January 26th, 2015 § 2 comments § permalink

For more than a year, HG has been suffering (not quietly) from mussels deprivation. This past June, upon arriving at HG/BSK’s oceanfront summer home on Prince Edward Island, HG received some dread news: The Mussels Interpretive Center in the town of St. Peter’s had closed. Besides housing a mussels mini-museum, the center offered dining under the creative command of masterly Andrew MacDonald. On offer was the world’s best mussel stew, steamed mussels with melted butter and South Lake oysters on the half shell. A saddened HG repaired to the By the Bay Fish Mart for a bag of mussels to prepare at home. Unfortunately, the knowledgeable proprietor told HG the mussels were below par this past season. She was right. Upon returning to New Mexico, HG gave the PEI mussels at Whole Foods a try. Maybe autumn weather had improved the mollusks. No luck. HG was left with memories. Best mussels ever were served in a Sicilian restaurant (Vincent’s ?) in gritty Harrison, N.J., more than three decades ago. HG/BSK and hungry pals would eat a tub of steamed mussels accompanied by crisp fried zucchini and good bread to sop up briny juices. These were big, plump mussels filled with juice and flavor. HG once asked where these mussels were found. Got a one word answer: “Joisey.” In Denver, HG enjoyed the “finger burning” mussels at Mel’s Restaurant (long closed). These were inspired by the mussels served at La Cagouille Restaurant in Paris. A very simple dish. Mussels were grilled on a cast iron plancha until they opened. Risking burnt fingers, these juicy morsels were dipped in melted lemon butter. HG had a happy Paris memory of the stuffed mussels at Pied de Cochon in Les Halles. HG’s mussels deprivation ended last night. HG had been suffering from a stomach ailment for three days. Deprived him of appetite. Appetite returned. Resourceful BSK found some great PEI mussels at Whole Foods (asked the sales clerk to find a freshly arrived bag in the rear). Steamed with onions, garlic, Italian parsley, clam broth and white wine, some five pounds were served over linguine. Joy.

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Big Black Pan

January 24th, 2015 § 2 comments § permalink

BSK makes use of a formidable batterie de cuisine. Pots and pans of all sizes. All Clad. Paderno. Cuisisinart. Creuset. Dansk. Stainless steel. Copper. Non-stick. HG, on the other hand, uses one large pan (except when boiling water for pasta, of course). HG’s pan is black and cast iron with a lovely patina obtained from many, many years of use. HG’s love affair with cast iron cooking goes back to HG’s very early childhood more than half a century ago. Little HG was living — for a very brief time — in a boarding house in Georgia and HG still retains happy memories of a smiling African-American woman wielding a big black pan in a cozy kitchen. What came out of that pan were any number of savory foods that comforted little HG. These days HG uses the pan to fry fish, brown chicken, fry pork chops, pan broil steaks and hamburgers. Yes, there are folks who are enthusiastic about putting hamburgers and steaks on the barbecue grill. HG sticks to his pan. Better heat control. And, the meat gets a delicious, dark crust. HG’s seasonings are Malden’s Smoked Sea Salt, smoked black pepper (or Aleppo pepper) and in the case of pork chops and chicken, Goya’s indespensable Adobo spice mix.

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Schmaltz Is Back!

January 23rd, 2015 § 1 comment § permalink

Yes, schmaltz, delectable chicken fat, is making a comeback. It’s in the news. The New York Times recently reported that restaurant chefs and knowing home cooks are using the magical ingredient to enhance a variety of dishes. While some cardiologists and health police deride the golden goodness of chicken fat others are proving that, yes indeed, Moms may have been right all along citing schmaltz’s high level of heart healthy mono-saturated fats. Well, chicken fat may not be as good for the body as kale, but it provides real solace for the soul. HG’s favorite after school snack was a slice of Stuhmer’s pumpernickel bread covered with a good quarter-inch of chicken fat, kosher salt and black pepper. (Sometimes, HG’s thoughtful Mom added a slice of raw onion). Thus fortified, little HG was ready for competitive street games of punchball and “association” football. (The street was a playground in the 30’s and wartime 40’s since automobiles were scarce). HG’s Dad’s favorite use of chicken fat was in the form of “grieven” (or “gribenehs”). These were crisp, salty, lush bits of rendered chicken skin. The late, beloved Hershele Zvi Freimann would accompany this treat with a slice of rye bread and a modest tumbler of Park & Tilford rye whiskey. HG has a fond memory of HG’s Mom’s chopped hard boiled eggs and onions mixed with plenty of schmaltz. Her “latkes” (potato pancakes) fried in chicken fat were superior. There was plenty of chicken fat in her chopped liver. This was accompanied by slices of pungent black radish, also liberally gilded with schmaltz. The Temple of Schmaltz is Sammy’s Romanian Restaurant on New York’s Lower East Side. There’s a pitcher of schmaltz on every table. There’s also a bottle of vodka encased in ice. So, be assured, a raucous, inebriated, nostalgic good time is to be had. A schmaltzy joint, indeed.

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