A Nambe Night – Healthy and Good.

December 5th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

Nambe is a town just a few miles north of HG and BSK’s home in New Mexico. You might recognize the name from the unique metal alloy designs marketed under the Nambé label. Two interesting women, our good friends Vicki B. and Sarah N., are temporarily domiciled in a historic adobe dwelling tucked away in a corner of the Nambe Pueblo. The house is not faux Southwest. It’s the real thing. A shepherd’s fireplace (shepherd sleeps on a shelf above the fireplace). Old dark beams. Thickly plastered walls. Low ceilings. A delightful place to be on a chilly evening. The women, though not puritanical, are health conscious. Dinner was cauliflower soup, creatively spiced and soothing. Then a lovely chunk of crisped chicken with sliced sweet potatoes in a sauce that had hints of New Mexico chiles. Dessert was a melange of Greek yogurt and stewed and fresh seasonal fruit. A goat blue cheese from a Santa Fe Farmers Market artisan helped the group finish off the red wine. The meal was preceded by New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and smoked trout consumed in front of a copper hooded raised fireplace. The meal was as healthy as it was delicious. Adding to the delights of the evening were Vicki and Sarah’s accounts of their mental and spiritual adventures. Warm and stimulating pleasures on a cold night.

Fennel Ambiguity

December 4th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

HG has very mixed, odd feelings about that estimable vegetable — fennel. Does not like it roasted. Does not like it slicked thickly in salads. However, shaved paper-thin and mixed with slices of radish and young turnips, doused with good Sicilian olive oil and plenty of sea salt and cracked pepper — a very nice appetizer. Fennel seeds are worthy additions to traditional Italian sausages — the kind that used to be sold (grilled with onions and peppers) off Greenwich Village trucks. Frankies Spuntino in Brooklyn does a very good fennel salad which HG and BSK have been unable to duplicate at home. In HG’s opinion, fennel is at its best braised in chicken broth with plenty of butter. Serve it with poached or grilled salmon. Perfect. Radicchio is another vegetable that arouses mixed emotions. Don’t like it raw but grilled it’s a treat. Belgian endive is always wonderful — leaves in salads; braised; grilled lightly or served in a gratin with cream and cheese. No ambiguity. An odd thought about fennel. The Italian word for fennel is finocchio. This is also an Italian derogatory term for homosexuals. (Recall the scene in “Godfather One” where Marlon Brando upbraids the Sinatra-like singer for acting like a “Hollywood finocchio”?). Don’t understand the derivation.

Goodbye Jewish Deli

December 2nd, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

HG’s pal, Bill Schuck, sent him a copy of The Deli Man, a clip from a longer film. Nice nostalgic stuff about Jewish delis with cameos from Larry King, Alan Dershowitz and other pastrami fanatics. Shocking fact. There were once 1,550 Jewish delis in the five boroughs of New York. There are now only 150 in all of North America; that said many staples of the Jewish Deli (pastrami, chopped liver, etc.) have become part of the mainstream eating culture of the United States. According to informed opinion, the best Jewish deli in the United States is Langer’s, located in a gritty Los Angeles neighborhood. The proprietor of Langer’s is gloomy about the future of the deli. Jewish kids prefer hamburgers. Sad. They will never know the glory of a heartburn produced by a bowl of matzo ball soup followed by an overstuffed pastrami sandwich.

Rhode Island Calamari

December 1st, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

Last night BSK sauteed calamari in olive oil with a heap of sauteed garlic and hot and sweet Greek-style pickled cherry peppers. HG fried some catfish filets (Dust the fish in Zatarain’s Fish Fry, dip in beaten egg, roll in panko crumbs and fry in very hot grapeseed oil). BSK stir fried some baby bok choy. Lemon wedges, Frank’s Hot Sauce, chilled Spanish rose. Big time feast. HG first encountered the calamari with peppers dish in Rhode Island, where it is a regional specialty. HG was cycling along the bike path between Riverside and Bristol some years ago. Hunger took over. HG stopped at a plain spoken little diner alongside the path. Ordered the calamari-and-pepper appetizer and a bowl of linguini with white clam sauce. The “appetizer” must have contained about two pounds of calamari and the pasta dish could have fed four hungry long distance cyclers. HG, a champion Clean Plate Ranger, met the challenge. Finished it all. HG has wanted to repeat this modest snack. The restaurant, alas, has closed. Another dismal sign that fast food chain hamburgers are diminishing local food treats.

Post-Surgery Soothing

November 30th, 2012 § 1 comment § permalink

HG had early (seven AM) left eye cataract surgery this morning. Quite painless. However, the anesthesia, IV, drops (and the early hour) left HG tired and blurry eyed. BSK drove the unhappy fellow home and comforted him with a lush platter of softly scrambled eggs and cheese grits. Plus, a pot of tea brewed in the English manner. Ah, life has few better rewards than being coddled (and cuddled) by a lovely woman. Lucky, lucky HG.

Sunday Feasting in The Bronx

November 28th, 2012 § 3 comments § permalink

Read with interest the New York Times interview with HG’s favorite writer of fiction, Philip Roth. It seems Roth has had his say. No more books, no more arduous attention to the brutal task of writing. Sad news for serious readers. (And, why hasn’t Roth been awarded the Nobel? This is an injustice). The last time HG saw Roth it was breakfast time at Barney Greengrass, the venerable smoked fish emporium on Manhattan’s upper west side. Roth looked gloomy. The lox-bagel-cream cheese and coffee combo he was eating didn’t seem to lift his spirits. HG mused that the author was probably thinking that one more day of word wrestling lay before him. These varied Rothian thoughts lead HG back to long ago memories of Sunday-Breakfast-In-The-Bronx-With-Mom-And-Pop. (HG uses caps because this traditional breakfast was always an epic feast). No matter where HG had spent Saturday night, or from what bed HG had arisen, young bachelor HG always called Mom early Sunday to discuss breakfast (yes, the meal began at about 10:30 or 11 so these days it would be called brunch). HG visited the “appetizing” store on Kingsbridge Road and procured Nova Scotia smoked salmon, sable, pickled herring, a robust smoked whitefish, Greek olives, sour kosher dill pickles, potato salad and cole slaw. On that same morning Pop was off to the bakery for bagels, bialys, onion rolls, Jewish rye bread and Stuhmer’s pumpernickel. The table was set with plenty of sweet butter, Daitch cream cheese and sliced tomatoes and onions. Lots of coffee plus a bottle of cognac (both HG and Pop liked to “correct,” as Italians put it, their coffee with shots of brandy. The smoked fish delights lead into a big platter of softly scrambled eggs with fried onions and mushrooms. Danish pastry for dessert. HG worked all of this off in Central Park. Rough touch football. Ah, youth, you magic time.

Day of the Big Bird

November 27th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

At one time, HG subscribed to Calvin Trillin‘s jaundiced views concerning the Thanksgiving Day turkey. Trillin mused that American cuisine would have improved if Italians had landed at Plymouth rather than English Puritans. An Italian landing would have meant Spaghetti Carbonara on Thamskgiving Day rather than turkey, a bird Trillin does not admire. HG is very fond of both Carbonara and the prose of Trilllin, but HG has become ever fonder of The Big Bird and all the trimmings. This Thanksgiving, HG and BSK were blessed with having BSK’s family (folks with big appetites) at the table. The family group was composed of BSK’s sister, Noel;her husband, Yossi, and their two sons, Eric and Matthew. Also present was Eric’s beautiful girl friend, Lisa. The two young men are big guys — well over six feet and well over 200 pounds. Much muscle. Lisa (a Norwegian horse vaulting champion) is a powerful lass who bench presses over 200 pounds. Combined with Yossi, a rangy Israeli who is a renowned Clean Plate Ranger, this quartet can do a lot of damage to a large turkey. With some help from HG, BSK and Noel, the group totally demolished a 16-pound turkey, mounds of mashed potatoes, brussell sprouts roasted with pancetta, stir fried haricot verts, corn bread-sausage-pecan stuffing, two varieties of cranberry sauce. Plus the obligatory gallon of savory gravy (enhanced by BSK’s lovely roux and some judicious spicing). No second day turkey sandwiches. Only a skeleton went into the turkey broth pot. Dessert was BSK’s nut and cinnamon apple crisp (with vanilla ice cream) plus Noel’s honey cake. Adding to the jolly times were six bottles of Beaujolais Nouveau (very good this year) plus Samuel Adams ale, pre-dinner iced vodka and post dinner Israeli dessert wine (resembled a good French sweet Sauterne). Much to be thankful for.

El Paragua

November 26th, 2012 § 2 comments § permalink

It all started with a little taco stand in Espanola, NM, started by two Atencio brothers in 1958. Sheltered by an umbrella provided by their father, Luis Atencio, the two peddled their mother’s home-cooked tacos and tamales to rapidly growing audience. Business flourished and, in time, that taco stand took over the family plumbing business and expanded into the full scale restaurant, El Paragua, and six casual dining EL Parasol eateries in New Mexico (franchised to various generations of the Atencio family. All provide great, down home Northern New Mexican food (as HG has often noted, HG is addicted to El Parasol’s green chile menudo and posole).

HG and BSK dined at El Paragua last night with visiting Mike Rock and Trish Layton. Chilly night and the restaurant with its dark wooden furniture, Hispanic artifacts, photos and newspaper clippings exuded warmth and the aromas of good cooking. The group was met by smiling Jose Atencio, the proprietor and host. First, some splendid frozen margaritas in big, salt rimmed glasses. Then, Jose presented bowls of hot broth filled with pork, garbanzos, bits of red chile and ripe avocado slices as a garnish. Chill was vanquished. Dinner was menudo, carne adovado, enchiladas, charro beans, guacamole, shrimp in garlic sauce. Plus warm sopapillas with honey and elderberry jelly. Flan for dessert. Generous Jose Atencio climaxed the meal with brandy snifters of a Mexican liqueur not imported to the United States (HG believes it is called “Membrillo”). Fabulous. Jose took us on a tour of the restaurant. Much history. A favorite restaurant of the actor Anthony Quinn. Dennis Hopper, when he lived in Taos, NM, would come to El Paragua to drink and play cards with Jose’s father, Luis Atencio. Robert Redford, Dustin Hoffman and many others have dined there. That’s El Paragua — a nice blend of food and history warmed by the gracious service and happy ambience created by Jose Atencio.

Illegal…But Tasty.

November 25th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

Some years ago HG and BSK were strolling in the colorful, noisy, fragrant Italian city of Naples, a place where anarchy (and crime) reigns. It was midday and a group of men gathered before the ground floor of a ramshackle apartment house. A window opened and a woman handed out bowls of something that looked quite robust (HG thinks it was Trippa Napoletana — tripe done in the Neapolitan style). The lady sold a lot of food. HG doubts whether she was troubled by health inspectors or tax collectors. The scene reminded HG of the illegal restaurants that used to flourish in the basements of buildings in New York’s Garment Center and Fur District. These places opened at noon and closed at two. The scene was mayhem. Workers in the Fur District were Greeks and Jews. The cuisine reflected this. HG remembers tasty Moussaka, lemony chicken stews, goulash. kasha varnishkes with mushrooms, onions and chicken livers. Hearty stuff for hardworking folks untroubled by indelicate presentation.

Sable

November 20th, 2012 § 0 comments § permalink

No, HG is not referring to that member of the Russian marten family whose luxurious pelts are favored by the world’s wealthiest and most luxuriously dressed women. HG refers to the fish known as sable (or black cod or sablefish). Its habitat is the deep waters of the North Pacific. Smoked sable, in HG’s opinion, is far preferable to smoked sturgeon. Moister. A more buttery taste. A better mouth feel. The best sable comes from the venerable Russ & Daughters on New York’s lower east side. Happily, it can be ordered online. HG likes it on Jewish rye bread or Russian pumpernickel lavishly spread with good cream cheese. A grind of black pepper is obligatory. HG banishes lemon as interfering with the taste. Accompanies the treat`with icy vodka. But, this isn’t the only way to eat sable. Trader Joe’s now carries very estimable frozen unsmoked filets of sable. All they need is a gentle saute. Flavor them with a bit of soy sauce and maple syrup. The salty/sweet mix will accent the richness of the fish. Delicious and healthy. Lots of valuable Omega 3.

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