Celebrating Number 85

November 11th, 2014 § 8 comments § permalink

85. Hey, that’s a lot of years. But, HG, the birthday boy, is not only Hungry Gerald but Greedy Gerald. HG wants more. More life. More years. More food. More wine. That’s because HG has the best wife, the best children, the best grandchildren and the best dog (Toby, a new member of the family). And, of course, HG/BSK divide their time between two delightful and very different paradises: New Mexico (the Land of Enchantment) and Prince Edward Island (The Gentle Island). In New Mexico, HG/BSK have the benefit of interesting, generous, amusing friends. Among them are Polly B. (the renowned photographer); David F. (novelist and historian); Karen K.(film producer). This trio gathered with HG/BSK and Gorgeous Granddaughter Sofia for a birthday feast of red salmon caviar (from Zabar’s) and home made blini (via the Roger Sherman recipe from Canal House Cooking, Vol. 3). Also Gaspe Nova Scotia smoked salmon and sable (from Russ & Daughters, a very generous gift from Restaurateur Daughter Victoria). On the table was creme fraiche and thick sour cream; scallion cream cheese; whitefish salad; pickles; capers; caper berries; sliced sweet onion and tomatoes; black olives. Jewish rye and pumpernickel bread (from Zabar’s). Genuine New York bagels (Russ & Daughters). The group toasted HG with Kristal champagne (a startling pre-birthday gift from Antony and Claudia C.) and then went on to a variety of cold, dry white wines. Dessert. Ah, dessert!! This was provided by Karen K., acknowledged as The Dessert Queen. HG has written about Karen K.’s wonders before but this time the talented lady outdid herself. Dessert was flan. A wondrous flan that hovered somewhere between traditional flan and an ethereal creme brûlée. A dream custard with toasted flakes of almond to provide a contrasting crunch. Providing some overkill, HG sliced pistachio halvah accompanied by Bushmill’s Irish Honey Whiskey. Polly B. and David F. gave HG a magnificent straw sombrero as a birthday gift. This will be indispensable on PEI’s beaches even though the hat makes HG look like an exotic variety of Jewish mushroom. Thanks to all (including little granddaughter Teru) who sent birthday greetings and wishes. A joyous birthday, indeed.

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Death Knell For Haimish Manhattan

November 10th, 2014 § 0 comments § permalink

So sad. The Cafe Edison, affectionately known as “The Polish Tearoom,” is closing its doors. The landlord (the Hotel Edison on 47th Street and Broadway in New York) is replacing it with a fancy restaurant headed by a “big name chef.” Another haimish New York restaurant bites the dust. Haimish is a Yiddish word meaning many things: Down home. With family and friends. Warm, cozy, plain and unadorned. Like eating an overstuffed sandwich at the kitchen table with Mom, Pop, your wife and the kids. Cafe Edison was decidedly Jewish with matzo ball soup, kasha varnishkes, pastrami and all the other Jewish/ Eastern European staples. Theater folks of every ethnicity gathered there daily to eat, shmooze, make deals, exchange show biz chatter. There were other theater district restaurants, not Jewish, that were haimish. Delsomma (Italian) and Fornos (Spanish). Both gone. In fact, the Jewish-Irish-Italian Manhattan where HG spent many years has vanished. The Irish bars with their corned beef and cabbage, pig’s knuckles and hard boiled eggs belong to yesterday. Italian red sauce joints are no more. The Torissi guys (Italian Specialties, Parm, Carbone, Dirty French) have upscaled Italian food ($52 veal chops, for example). Thankfully, Manhattan’s African-American and Latino population is keeping the haimish tradition alive. You can still get splendid fried chicken and catfish in Harlem. Mofongo remains on the menu in Puerto Rican eateries. Cubans in Washington Heights are still dishing up Cubanos, moros and cristianos and other good things. But, if haimish is your thing get on the subway (and ferry) and head to the boroughs. Forget Manhattan. HG, to paraphrase the song, will take The Bronx, Queens, Brooklyn and Staten Island, too.

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Good Faux Pho

November 8th, 2014 § 0 comments § permalink

Sheer comfort on a chilly (or not so chilly) day is a big steaming caldron of pho and an accompanying tangle of mint, bean sprouts, basil and other fresh greens. HG consumed this Vietnamese dish many times in rainy Vancouver, B.C.; snowy Denver (that city’s Federal Boulevard is lined with good Vietnamese restaurants) and in New York’s Chinatown as winds whipped off the East River. Yesterday, New Mexico’s Indian summer took a turn to the frigid so BSK served some ample bowls of pho for dinner. No, BSK didn’t spend the day cooking bones and spices into a broth. Instead, BSK opted for packaged pho (the Pacific brand). Previously, HG/BSK found Pacific’s broths (chicken, beef and vegetable) to be rather insipid. Surprisingly, the Pacific pho was quite good and redolent of authentic Asian spices. No, it wasn’t the pho you get in Vietnamese restaurants and even the lowliest citizens of Ho Chi Minh city would probably sneer, but it tasted good to HG. Of course, BSK enhanced it with slices of steak, plenty of De Cecco Angel Hair pasta, ginger and a touch of cinnamon. Mint, basil, bean sprouts and sliced scallion were added. Indispensable sriracha for heat. Nice dining as HG/BSK and GGS (Gorgeous Granddaughter Sofia) glanced at the colorful and fragrant piñon ablaze in the fireplace.

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Sweet Shirley T – A Lesley R. Lookalike

November 7th, 2014 § 2 comments § permalink

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.

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Thanks For the Memories

November 3rd, 2014 § 0 comments § permalink

In 1954 HG partnered with a Broadway press agent and opened HG’s first public relations office in an odd little four story building, 236 W. 56th Street, on New York’s west side between Seventh and Eighth Avenues. The other tenants, like HG, were impecunious and vaguely connected with show business. The ground floor and part of the second was occupied by Patsy’s Italian Restaurant, celebrated for being one of Frank Sinatra’s favorite dining spots. It was a delightful old school restaurant featuring robust Neapolitan dishes. Though only ten years old at the time (it was founded in 1944 by Pasquale “Patsy” Scognamillo), it felt as if it had been there for decades. Prices were modest, affordable for even hand-to-mouth HG. The hosts were welcoming, generous people. They must have known that HG was struggling in his PR career because they always gave HG exuberant portions and coffee plus wine on the house. HG’s partnership dissolved. HG’s fortunes improved. HG moved to more appropriate offices on Madison Avenue. Nevertheless, HG continued to patronize Patsy’s, relishing its mozzarella in carozzo, clams arrreganata, chicken contadina and giant veal chops. Gradually, HG shifted his patronage to two other fine Italian restaurants — Delsomma on W. 47th Street and Paul & Jimmy’s on Irving Place (both long closed). While restaurants came and went, Patsy’s rolled along. It’s now in its 70th year and still owned by the Scognamillo family (It has only had three chefs in its history—all Scognamillos). Recently, HG checked the Patsy’s website. Food prices, of course, are much loftier than in the past. But, what gained HG’s attention was the wine list. Very few bottles priced less than $50 and many priced between $175 and $1,500. Yes, HG knows that New York has been taken over by the oligarchs, but still…. HG mused that New York is like an old girl friend. Cherish the memory but don’t arrange a reunion.

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Japanalian and Korealian

November 1st, 2014 § 0 comments § permalink

Recently, HG did a post entitled: HEALTHY (ALMOST) RAMEN. To accompany the post, HG’s adroit editor and collaborator, SJ, sourced a video on ramen that featured David Chang, the renowned chef and founder of the Momofuku restaurants, making the wonderful Italian pasta dish, cacio e pepe, with instant ramen. HG followed Chang’s technique with some Korean instant ramen. As Chang noted, an Italian might be horrified by the dish. HG ate it with delight and gusto. So, what should this riff on Italian food be called? Japanalian? Korealian? So, go to the HG archive and log into the post. Give Chang’s dish a try and have a happy surprise.

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Freeman Chum

October 30th, 2014 § 0 comments § permalink

In the early 1950’s HG combined his career as a journalist with Broadway press agentry. HG had a part time (three months a year) girl friend, a showgirl at the Copacabana night cub. The young woman liked change. She worked five months of the year in Las Vegas, four months in Paris and the rest of the time at the Copa. When in New York, she lived in a hotel around the corner from Freeman Chum, a Chinese restaurant on Manhattan’s E. 53rd Street and that’s where she and HG drank martinis and nibbled egg rolls and spare ribs before her show. Much taller than HG, she would pat HG on the head and call him, in her inimitable Cockney drawl, “my little ducks.” When not in scanty show biz attire, she favored dowdy, tweedy English countrywoman clothes. Her ambition was to retire in the English countryside and raise beagles. Back to Freeman Chum. Odd for a Chinese restaurant, the martinis were superb, prepared by barman Hoy Wong. HG later learned that Marilyn Monroe came in every Wednesday and had a two martini liquid lunch prepared by Wong. Joe DiMaggio, the great Yankee star, would come to Freeman Chum on Saturday nights, recalled Wong, and spend secluded hours drinking scotch. (Surprisingly, he and Monroe never met there). Judy Garland was another customer and discreet Wong noted she had many drinks. Wong left Freeman Chum in 1963 and became the barman at the Blue Bar in the Algonquin Hotel. Two of his favorite customers were scotch drinkers John Lennon and Henry Kissinger. (Sometimes, this oddly matched duo shared a cocktail table). Wong had a lengthy career. He was still active at the Blue Bar when he was in his 90s. The Algonquin honored Wong on his 90th birthday (when he was there oldest barman in New York) with a cocktail party in the hotel’s Oak Room. Scores of customers were in attendance. Wong was never befuddled by odd drink requests. He said the Duke of Windsor ordered a “House of Lords martini in and out on toast.” A waiter was about to summon the kitchen. Wong stopped him. He knew the Duke wanted a gin martini with lemon peel. The lemon peel was to be burnt with a match before going into the glass. Wong said the Duke liked his version so much he ordered another.

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Sandwich Heaven with A Guilty Pleasure

October 28th, 2014 § 0 comments § permalink

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.

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Good Greens

October 26th, 2014 § 0 comments § permalink

Given HG’s affection for such things as chicken fat, crispy chicken skin, well marbled steak, non-lean pork chops, brie, butter and a vast panoply of stuff frowned upon by the health police, it may come as a surprise that HG has a considerable affection for greens. Belgian endive is a favorite. HG likes it as a scoop for guacamole, chicken salad and egg salad. HG likes it braised in white wine, garlic and olive oil. (goes nicely with grilled salmon). HG likes to dip endive spears in a mix of hot olive oil, garlic and anchovies. HG likes frisee in a Paris bistro salad. Fry bacon until crisp. Crumble bacon and mix with the frisee (use a small bit of the fat to lightly wilt the greens). Dress with a mustard vinaigrette. Top with a softly poached egg. Enhance it with plenty of freshly ground black pepper and a sprinkle of parmesan. HG likes escarole in BSK’s joyous soup of the braised green leaves, chicken broth, garlic, bacon, cannelloni beans and lots of fruity olive oil. HG likes a simple dinner of lightly sautéed sole or a grilled chicken paillard with a salad of butter lettuce lightly dressed with olive oil, smoked sea salt and black pepper. Romaine spears are good when dressed with HG’s Caesar-like dressing: Grated garlic, raw egg yolk, mustard, olive oil, salt and pepper. Complements a rare steak. (If wary of a raw egg, do the romaine with a roquefort or blue cheese dressing). HG is fond of collard greens done Southern style with a ham hock and hot pepper vinegar. HG ate this dish often with fried catfish in the Harlem of yesteryear. HG emulates Popeye by liking spinach in a great variety of dishes including broth with tofu and ginger. HG looks askance at the current fashion for kale. Have never liked the stuff.

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Rumpelmayer’s

October 23rd, 2014 § 9 comments § permalink

Ah, Rumpelmayer’s!! That’s a name that will provoke a sigh from many older (and not so old) New Yorkers. This was a long closed restaurant/tea room/ice cream parlor in The St. Moritz Hotel (now the Ritz-Carlton) on the corner of Sixth Avenue and Central Park South. The original Rumpelmayer’s was in Vienna (with branches in London and Paris) and the New York version retained a European air (it was a favorite of Marlene Dietrich and many other European expatriates). Its design was vaguely art deco softened by heaps of colorful stuffed animals that adorned the walls and corner tables. The animals were very much liked by young customers (and were sometimes purchased for them by doting parents). A restaurant reviewer of the 1930’s called Rumpelmayer’s “the haunt of New York’s most pampered children.” Well, HG/BSK’s offspring were not pampered but they sure loved Rumpelmayer’s. As part of special occasion outings (known as “treat days”), the youngsters were seated at Rumpelmayer’s marble counter for opulent hot fudge sundaes. The ice cream was super rich. The hot fudge was really thick and warm –the sweetness being off-set by the slight bitterness of the high quality chocolate (Says SJ – Post-Rumpelmayer’s I was always disappointed by chocolate sundaes as the “hot fudge” tasted like chocolate syrup, but recently I had a Sundae at Brooklyn’s Chocolate Room and their hot fudge was of the same quality and the flavor brought me right back to Rumpelemayer’s counter). The ultimate treat. When HG had offices nearby, HG would often visit Rumpelemayer’s for a late breakfast or early lunch. HG’s food choice was a delicacy that has long disappeared from menus: The Monte Cristo Sandwich. This was a sandwich of French toast enclosing sliced ham and melted Gruyere (or Emmenthaler) cheese. Served with a pitcher of warmed maple syrup. HG would eat this lush dish, sip coffee and watch snowflakes descend upon Central Park. Nostalgia, anyone??

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