Longchamps: Affordable Dining Magic

March 14th, 2011 § 5 comments § permalink

While watching “Boardwalk Empire“, the HBO series about Atlantic City’s prohibition days, HG’s thoughts turned to Longchamps, that long gone, magical chain of New York restaurants.

Where’s the connection ? Well. One of the principal bad guys in “Boardwalk Empire” is New York crime kingpin (and World Series Fixer!) Arnold Rothstein. A.R. had a brother-in-law named Henry Lustig who was in the food business. A.R. owned an attractive piece of real estate at 78th and Madison. A.R. put up the money and real estate and a restaurant chain, Longchamps, was born. Longchamps was, of course, named after the Paris race track. The name was apt: A.R. and Lustig were gamblers (A.R. was shot and killed while playing cards). Both men loved horses and they wanted the restaurant chain to evoke a Parisian flair (though the cuisine was American and international). Eventually there were 12 Longchamps restaurants in New York. They were pure theater. The colors were red, gold, yellow and black. The interior design was by the German art deco expert Winold Reiss (with an assist from New York architect Ely Jacques Kahn). Multi level, beautifully lit, Longchamps had suave service and excellent wine lists. In the beginning, it copied the European custom of forbidding tipping by simply adding a 10% charge to the bill. The food was marvelous. And, the price was right. Not cheap. Not super expensive. Just in the middle. Everything went well until 1946 when the IRS slapped Lustig with a $10 million tax bill and a fraud indictment (he spent four years in prison). Longchamps was soon in disarray and losing money. Jan Mitchell, the remarkable restaurateur who had revived Lüchow’s, the great German restaurant on 14th Street, bought Longchamps in 1959 and quickly restored it to glory. From 1959 to 1967 (when Mitchell sold out and the chain disappeared), HG was a frequent customer. Pot a Feu (better than Paris); lush spaghetti with chicken livers; creamy chicken curry; lamb chops; eggs benedict and the ultimate roast beef hash. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Longchamps always hit the spot. Following their wedding in judge’s chambers on Foley Square, HG, BSK and the wedding party celebrated with eggs benedict and champagne at the Longchamps opposite City Hall. In memory, every meal at Longchamps was a celebration.

The Automat: Good Food For The Masses. It Can Be Done.

March 13th, 2011 § 0 comments § permalink

During its heyday (1930’s-1970’s), the Horn and Hardart Automat chain of restaurants fed some 350,000 to 500,000 New Yorkers and Philadelphians daily. Fed them in sparkling surroundings at a very low price. The customer put nickels in a slot and out popped the world’s best macaroni and cheese casseroles, baked bean casseroles, chicken pot pies, beef pot pies. There were exemplary salads, pies, cakes, sandwiches (the BLT was a winner). The diner could also take his tray to the cafeteria section for beef stew, Salisbury steak, roast chicken and an array of vegetables (Harvard beets and mashed potaoes were HG favorites). Say the word “Automat” to a New Yorker of a certain age and get a big smile. Automats were fun. Gregory Peck, Tony Curtis, Woody Allen, Leonard Nimoy, Jerome Robbins, Neil Simon and Dick Clark all loved the Automat. So did HG. Armed with a handful of nickels little HG felt like a true adult as he assembled his meal of macaroni and cheese, coconut custard pie and hot chocolate. The last Automat (southeast corner of 42nd and Third) closed in April 1991, just about 20 years ago. For those who want to reignite memories, the Smithsonian in Washington has a 35 foot section of the Automat on display. But, unfortunately, no piping hot macaroni and cheese.

Bickford’s: Bleak, Lonely, Literary.

March 12th, 2011 § 1 comment § permalink

Bickford’s was a chain of plain spoken, very inexpensive New York eateries that stayed open late and advertised: “Breakfast Anytime.” There were 48 in 1960; 42 in 1970; two in 1980. The last one closed in 1982. Should they be mourned? Yes. Somehow their bleak decor and the loneliness of the customers encouraged literature. The 42nd Street Bickford’s was the hangout of the Beat novelists, poets, musicians and critics. Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs and Alan Ginsberg all wrote there, aided by many cups of good Bickford’s coffee. In fact Bickford’s is mentioned in both Burrough’s Junky and in Ginsberg’s seminal poem, Howl. William Styron mentions Bickford’s in his work. So does Woody Allen. It was Andy Warhol’s favorite for takeout coffee. HG was fond of Bickford’s apple pancakes, rice pudding and cheesecake. In a wistful late night mood, HG wrote some very bad proletarian poetry at the Bickford’s on the northeast corner of 45th and Lexington. HG also spent a Thanksgiving there which was almost as depressing as the fictional Thanksgiving scene in Woody Allen’s Broadway Danny Rose.

New York doesn’t honor its writers and artists the way Paris does. Sartre and de Beauvoir are identified with Cafe Flor. Hemingway and scores of painters made the brasseries and cafes in Montparnasse their second home. And, this is acknowledged by those circular blue Paris signs. But, there’s no literary marker on W. 42nd Street. And like those missing markers, HG’s poetry has not survived (Thankfully!).

Superman And Batman Revisited: A Freudian Analysis by SJ

March 12th, 2011 § 1 comment § permalink

The connection between food and cartoon characters. A worthy subject as HG’s ponderings proved. Winsor McCay’s “Dreams of a Rarebit Fiend” illustrated the very British concern that partaking of a rarebit soon before bed would lead to extravagant and exaggerated dreams — a notion that mirrors my deep held belief of the connection between food and our unconscious. No wonder food plays such a prominent role in that hotbed of Freudian sexual sub-text — the Sunday comics: In a pretty much literal fashion, Popeye’s gulp of Spinach acts like a triple dose of Viagra — pumping his flacid forearm into a rod of Iron to take on the marauding Bluto (who is always right on the verge of ravishing Olive Oyl)! Dagwood? Blondie was hot! Tight sweaters! Serious cleavage! High Heels! And he had a crap boss, Mr. Dithers, who loved to humiliate him. Well, you cannot kill your boss and have great sex with your wife in your Sunday morning strip, so how do you express that dark Id? Well devouring a MASSIVE over-stuffed sandwich bigger than your head might be a good start. Which brings us right to Archie. Yessiree up in Riverdale you have Archie and the 3 components of his psyche: Reggie (the Ego), Mr. Lodge (Super-Ego) and yessss….stuffing his face to feed his insatiable hunger meet Jug Head a.k.a. Archie’s Id. So, why aren’t Superman, Batman, and the rest of the action force hungry? Well….that is a story for another day.

Superman And Batman: Too Busy To Nosh.

March 11th, 2011 § 0 comments § permalink

As you may have noticed, HG’s rarebit musings were illustrated with a drawing from Winsor McCay’s 1904-1913 comic strip, “Dreams of a Rarebit Fiend”. McCay also created the character Little Nemo (“Little Nemo In Slumberland” — 1905-1913) and “Gertie the Dinosaur“, believed to be the first animated film. This illustrative foray into the early history of comic strips led HG to ponder upon the linkage between comic strip characters and food. Popeye, of course, needed his spinach to defeat Bluto and retain the love of the, aptly named for a food maven, Olive Oyl. His pal, Wimpy, had no romantic inclinations. He lived to devour hamburgers, of which he would gladly pay you for on a Tuesday. Al Capp’s L’il Abner (and all of the Yokums) thrived on po’k chops. Dagwood, loving husband of Blondie, constructed gigantic Dagwood sandwiches. Garfield, the whimsical cat, is a chronic over-eater and Jughead, pal of Archie, is perpetually hungry. Hassenfeffer is commented upon favorably in “The Katzenjammer Kids”. The much beleaguered Jiggs of “Bringing Up Father” sought solace in corned beef and cabbage. (A cultural note from Our Friendly Neighbor To The North: Sunday dinner of corned beef, cabbage and boiled potatoes is known as a “Jiggs” in Newfoundland and Labrador.)

As for Superman and Batman (and of course Robin!): Too busy fighting the forces of evil to enjoy a nosh.

The Wonderful World Of Welsh Rarebit

March 10th, 2011 § 0 comments § permalink

HG is very fond of the English dinner custom of serving a savoury — after the main dish and before dessert (or pudding as it’s described on the Sceptered Isle). HG’s favorite savoury is the Welsh Rarebit. This cross between a fondue and a grilled cheese sandwich is perfect with the remaining dinner glass of wine, Guiness or port. The meal is prolonged in a civilized and leisurely fashion. Conversation flourishes. Essentially a cheddar cheese sauce, the Rarebit is made by whisking melted butter with a bit of flour, adding mustard (Keen’s powdered, preferably) and Worcestershire sauce. Whisk with some Guiness until smooth. Add a pound of very sharp grated cheddar to sauce pan. Keep whisking. You desire a concoction without lumps. Pour over toast. HG advice: Make this in advance. Refrigerate and reheat. You don’t want to interrupt your meal by doing a lot of whisking.

HG and BSK have happy memories of a trip to London some decades ago accompanied by a young SJ. After theater on the South Bank, we would stroll across a bridge to Rules on Maiden Lane, London’s oldest restaurant (founded 1798). After theater snack was oysters and Guiness This was followed by Welsh Rarebit and port. SJ tucked into everything in healthy fashion and did not refuse when offered a Cuban cigar. He puffed away, turning an attractive shade of green. Thereafter, he discreetly turned down offers of Maduros.

The Red Rooster Crows

March 9th, 2011 § 0 comments § permalink

Joy. HG read with delight Sam Sifton’s glowing NY Times review of Marcus Samuelsson’s Harlem restaurant, Red Rooster. This is the restaurant Harlem needed. This is the restaurant New York needed. Obviously, it’s got the sparkle and buzz and energy that only a truly diverse scene can create. Yeah. HG wants oxtails and shrimps and grits and fried chicken. More than that, HG wants to people watch and be happy. As HG’s devoted followers know, HG fell in love with Harlem more than 60 years ago (the old Red Rooster is where HG had a beer before getting on the subway). Harlem’s comeback is thrilling. HG is sure music, dance, galleries, alternative theater will all be happening. It needed a visionary like Samuelsson to get it started. Now, let’s have a revival of the great Bronx promenade, the Grand Concourse. Best art deco apartment houses in New York. Any Latino adventurers out there who want to do a soulful Puerto Rican brasserie?

Home Sweet Menudo

March 9th, 2011 § 0 comments § permalink

Back home in New Mexico. Enveloped by beautiful light, colors, views, serenity. Some winter chill lingers so HG nourished body and soul with a steaming bowl of green chili menudo at El Parasol in Pojoaque. Pure Northern New Mexican soul food. Menudo is tripe, of course, enriched with roasted chiles and the bite of oregano and cruchy onions. It is not an innard favored by the great American gringo population. In fact, HG doesn’t know any innard that gets a seal of approval from real Amurrican 100% he guys. Their loss. HG and his European (and Latino) comrades will continue to savor the yummy esoterica lurking inside cows, pigs, lambs, etc.

It’s Great To Smoke…Fish, That Is.

March 8th, 2011 § 0 comments § permalink

Discerning SJ (Son Jeremy) reports that the venue (variety and price) for smoked fish (and, herring, of course) is the Brighton Beach section of Brooklyn, also known as Little Odessa. This Russian settlement on Brooklyn’s scenic shore is known for big noisy, restaurants and big, noisy Russians–all fueled by vodka. Great place for a bracing walk by the sea followed by some bracing beverages. There are numerous Russian specialty food shops (like M & I International Foods) where SJ says there are no bargains in caviar, alas, but everything else fishy is well priced and desirable.

HG’s view is that oily fish make the best smoked morsels — black cod (sable), bluefish, mackerel, eel. His feelings about trout are ambiguous. HG has tepid feelings about sturgeon (too dry..sable is much superior). Tuna and swordfish don’t cut it for HG; they are best as crudo (raw) with a dash of very good Sicilian olive oil.

Most memorable smoked fish dish: Firm and flavorful filets of smoked eel served with a mound of whipped cream that incorporated a substantial amount of fresh, finely grated horse radish. This was composed by the late Henri Soule, the imperious master of the world’s best restaurant–New York’s Le Pavillion.

Hey, did you know that Sigmund Freud’s first scientific research involved the sex of eels? Turn to HG for arcane information of all kinds.

Blinis And Smoked Salmon: Delightful Duo.

March 8th, 2011 § 0 comments § permalink

HG loves smoked salmon. New York Novy. Smoky Scottish. Lush Norwegian. Irish (best of all). Paris and London are made for salmon nuts like HG. Quick trip to the supermarket (Carrefour in Paris and M & S in London) and one has a very nice array of (modestly priced) smoked salmon to choose from. And, best of all, there are very good prepared blini, creme fraiche and dilled mustard at hand for feasting. HG’s technique: Warm blini. Melt butter. Pour butter on blini. Layer of smoked salmon (Ireland’s best) on top. A bit of creme fraiche. A wee bit of mustard. Ice cold Russian vodka. A sigh of pleasure. HG has never favored the lox and bagel combo. The cream cheese and bulky bagel dulls the salmon ecstasy. A bialy has its points but blini top them all. After all, even though they came to a bad end, the Czars knew something about smoked fish (and caviar) supping.

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