HUNGRY GERALD

Fifty years ago, ratatouille was a fashionable dish. It was a mark of culinary sophistication to pronounce the word properly: Rat-a-too-ee. Then it disappeared from the dinner tables of the fashionable and the menus of chic restaurants. HG is pleased that BSK, a culinary classicist, keeps it alive. One of HG’s favorite luncheon dishes is a bowl of room temperature ratatouille topped with three or four anchovy fillets and a few black kalamata olives. Somehow it evokes summer. It should. Its origin is Provence, southern France. Its birthplace is Nice. In fact, the full name of the dish is “ratatouille nicoise.” BSK’s version of the dish is delicious. Each ingredient (olive oil, garlic, onion, eggplant, zucchini, red bell pepper, tomato, parsley, basil, thyme) is top quality ans treated as such. BSK cooks the vegetables in a sequence BSK has devised (tomatoes go in last). This means all the flavors merge but each retains an individual vibrancy. Keeps well in the refrigerator. Gets better with time. HG has never fancied ratatouille as a side dish with fish or meat. It’s a stand alone treat.

Okay, food loving pals, turn green with envy. It’s lobster season here on Prince Edward Island and fresh caught lobster sells for $5 to $7 a pound — it seems that slightly warming waters has expanded the lobster population. The ocean directly in front of the HG/BSK home is teeming with the crustaceans and HG/BSK awaken each morning to the sight of a dozen lobster boats chugging about in front of their windows. Seems to be an early morning activity because by 11 AM they’re all gone. HG is taking advantage of this surplus and devouring many delicious lobsters in a variety of styles: Steamed and dipped in melted butter (garnished with lemon juice and Frank’s Hot Sauce). Mixed with chopped celery and mayonnaise and stuffed into lightly toasted frankfurter rolls. Scooped into Belgian endive leaves. None of this brings joy to BSK. The love of HG’s life is allergic to lobsters and all other crustaceans (shrimp, crab, langoustines). BSK is not allergic to bivalves (oysters, clams, scallops). So, there’s a lot of good sea stuff for BSK to relish. But, BSK still looks at HG with wistful envy as the greedy old guy knocks off some juicy lobster.

BSK is a very proficient cook of certain types of Asian food, especially the fine art of stir-frying. The secret, says BSK, is speed and organization. Stir frying is a high heat proposition. Everything must be ready with all elements of a dish ready-to-go in separate bowls to be added to the wok in proper order. As sous-chef, HG does much preparation. Kung Pao chicken is a wonderfully spicy, flavorful dish. When served in a restaurant, Kung Pao is usually a mockery of Chinese cooking: Too sweet, sauce thick and gloppy and sometimes dyed a ferocious shade of red. BSK’s version avoids each and every one of those pitfalls — she uses only very modest amounts of sugar and corn starch and of course, no food dye. First, BSK cuts Chicken breasts into small pieces and marinates them in soy sauce, sugar, rice wine, corn starch and Szechuan peppercorns. Then BSK slices scallions, garlic, ginger and dried red chiles. When all the elements are in place, BSK works her magic with the sizzling wok, crowning the dish in its final moments with a sprinkling of roasted peanuts. A BSK masterpiece: food with crunch, spice, heat and flavor.

Calvin Trillin, the wonderful New Yorker (and The Nation) writer, is no fan of traditional Thanksgiving Day turkey-and-trimmings gluttony. He has lamented that English pilgrims rather than Italians landed in Plymouth. He wrote: “If it were Italians we would be having Spaghetti Carbonara instead of turkey.” Like Trillin, HG is a Carbonara fan (although HG has learned to embrace the turkey). BSK frowns upon the idea of having the dish too often since the rich mixture of pasta, eggs, bacon (or pancetta or best of all, guanciale – Italian pork jowl) is not number one on the cardiologists’ list of favorite foods. (Dish is also a challenge to a trim waistline). Nevertheless, it remains a special once-in-a-while treat. The trick in Carbonara is keeping things hot. Here’s how HG does it. Chopped pancetta is sizzled in a pan until browned. Eight ounces of Fettucine (HG prefers it to thinner shapes of pasta) are put up to boll. Six room temperature eggs are scrambled with lots of top quality grated parmesan, chopped parsley and plenty of ground black pepper. Moments before the pasta is at a perfect al dente, a bit of hot pasta water is added to the pancetta. Then, into the pan go the noodles followed by the beaten eggs. With the heat on high, everything is mixed quickly with some more pasta water to thin the sauce. Served in heated plates. Robust red wine, of course, and it’s nice to have Pavarotti roaring away on the Bose.

When BSK’s late, worldly, maternal grandmother received the grim news that BSK was going to marry HG, a Jew, she commented: “Well, there are three good things about Jews. They never hit their wives. They’re good with money. And, they don’t drink.” After many years of marriage (51 in upcoming July), HG often reminds BSK: “Hey, two out of three isn’t a bad batting average.” That’s because HG does drink. A lot. That means one (sometimes two) cocktails before dinner (tequila, vodka, rum are the basics with additions of lemon juice and either Aperol, Angostura Bitters or Campari). White wine with a few caper berries or Kalamata olives as an appetizer. Abundant red wine with dinner (or beer if the dishes are Mexican or Indian). After dinner TV watching companion is a brandy snifter of Bushmill’s Irish Honey Whiskey. Of course, this liquid regimen is frowned upon by the health police. But, in HG’s defense, this is preceded by New Mexico sunshine and pure air plus 15 minutes on HG’s stretching machine and one hour of swimming in the lap pool. There is also the loving and caring presence of BSK. And, that is a priceless deposit in HG’s bank of good health.

For many years the McGinnis Restaurant on New York’s Broadway (there was also a branch in the Sheepshead Bay neighborhood of Brooklyn) dispensed a lavish, rare roast beef sandwich. Its rival was The Brass Rail on nearby Seventh Avenue. The Brass Rail was adjacent to the Roxy movie palace (named after the showman “Roxy” Rothafel and demolished to make way for undistinguished office towers). The Brass Rail specialty was “The French Dip”. This was a roast beef sandwich on a mini-baguette dipped in a savory beef gravy. (Messy. But not as messy as the Chicago Beef Sandwich, a favorite in the Windy City). The best of all New York City roast beef sandwiches was served at Shine’s on 7th Avenue between 33rd and 34th Streets near Penn Station. There a stately African-American man in a chef’s hat carved slices behind a counter from a vast roast with surgical precision. On the more pedestrian side, HG liked the roast beef sandwiches served at many of New York’s old fashioned Jewish delicatessens in Brooklyn and the Lower East Side. A nice smear of chicken fat on seeded rye. Roast beef. Coarse salt. Black pepper. Sliced sweet onion. In the days when Harlem was a Jewish neighborhood, there was a Harlem delicatessen (name, alas, forgotten) that served the sandwich and attracted customers who had to patiently wait in a long line in order to enjoy the treat. The Chicago Beef and the Philadelphia Cheese Steak never caught on in New York. The New York attitude: “Why hide the flavors of delicious rare roast beef carved from a prime rib, corned beef, pastrami and brisket?” Why, indeed? HG/BSK had a delightful Saturday tradition after shopping at Bloomingdale’s.. HG/BSK would visit nearby Dover Delicatessen and pick up roast beef, ripe Liederkranz cheese, a sliced rye bread, potato salad, cole slaw. HG/BSK liked their roast beef sandwiches with Russian dressing. The cheese was showered with chopped onions and paprika. Much fun.

More than 50 years ago, young actress BSK arrived in New York after a year at Milwaukee’s Fred Miller Repertory Theater. BSK had 75 dollars in her purse. Fortunately, she also had some good culinary advice from experienced actors who had been living in New York for some time: If hungry while making the rounds of casting offices go to Grant’s on W. 42nd Street (two hot dogs for a quarter and french fries for 12 cents) and the Horn & Hardart Automat at 1557 Broadway (opened in 1912, the first Automat in New York). Yes, the theater district had many cheap food options for the famished, talented and impecunious. One of HG’s favorites (might have disappeared before BSK arrived) was Romeo’s. In its 42nd St. window a big guy in a tall chef’s hat plucked spaghetti from a cauldron of boiling water, plated it and added a dollop of very red meat sauce. The spaghetti (and garlic bread) cost 25 cents. There were also a few Elpine locations on Broadway. They dispensed hot dogs and papaya drinks. You can view an Elpine in the movie Sweet Smell of Success.” Tony Curtis (as press agent Sidney Falco) grabs an economical meal there. BSK received another piece of New York advice. Register with Brown’s Temporary Personnel. You’ll be able to work part time and still have an acting career. BSK followed the advice. Brown’s sent her to HG’s public relations office. The rest, as the cliche would have it, is history.

A rift in the usually peaceful HG/BSK household. BSK took exception to HG’s recent post, Pasta Joys. First of all, HG messed up BSK’s method of making penne with broccoli. Here’s how BSK does it: Chop broccoli stems and heads. Blanche briefly and remove from water. Put stems and garlic (you can add some shallot as well) in a food processor and pulse until roughly chopped (not blended into a puree). Sautee this mixture in olive oil until tender – then add broccoli florets, salt and pepper and some chili flakes to taste. In the meantime cook the pasta in salted water until al dente (don’t discard water). Add pasta to the pan – if you need liquid add some of the cooking water – or you could add a little chicken broth.

Then, HG received a tongue lashing for seeming to approve the Giuliano Bugialli recipe for the dish. BSK maintains that if you Follow the alleged pasta maven’s instructions for cooking the broccoli and pasta together in one pot, the result would be mushy broccoli or underdone pasta. Finally, BSK tempered her enthusiasm for her penne with cauliflower cooked in the style of risotto. Make up your mind, cautioned BSK. Either make risotto or penne. Do not attempt an awkward marriage. HG hopes his union with BSK has not entered an awkward phase. Perhaps flowers, caviar and diamonds might help. Or maybe just a well cooked plate of fresh-cut egg noodles loaded with shavings of white truffle.

Exciting night at HG/BSK’s New Mexico home. With the dinner hour approaching and appetites honed in wait, a sudden squall hit. Rain and intense wind. And, poof, no power. All was darkness. Incompetent HG murmured maledictions. BSK went into overdrive. Lit some two dozen candles. Found flashlights. Then some major frustration: The much-repaired emergency generator on the property kicked in. Five minutes of light and then…it conked out again. BSK went out in the rain and did what she could in a vain effort to restart the cursed device. Nothing. With a call into the repairman, hunger was still an issue so back in the kitchen. Again BSK took charge, manipulating pots, pans, flashlight, candles, knives, fish, bacon, butter, milk, leeks, spices etc.. The end result was a spectacular fish chowder heated up by plenty of smoked Spanish paprika. While the recipe (Smoky Fish Chowder). came from Melissa Clark of The New York Times, the soul came from BSK. By the end of the meal electricity was restored and stomachs were sated. The feast was just another example of BSK’s indomitable resourcefulness.

The Russian Tea Room on New York’s W. 57th Street (next door to Carnegie Hall) celebrated Christmas every day. The owner, the delightful Sidney Kaye, decided he liked the way Christmas decorations enhanced the restaurant so they never came down. Red and green forever. It was just one of the restaurant’s eccentricities like the forgetful old female waitpersons (many had been ballerinas in pre-revolution Russia) and the ever changing hat check girls (Madonna was one). During the Christmas season it was HG/BSK’s dinner choice after a movie at one of the nearby art cinemas. Their meal was always the same: Eggplant Orientale (the RTR’s version of baba ghanoush). Karsky Shashlik (succulent lamb kebabs) with rice pilaf. Raspberry Kissel (a raspberry compote topped with whipped cream). A bottle of Pommard or Pomerol (affordable then). HG knocked off some chilled vodka with the eggplant and cognac with coffee. BSK was more abstemious. If the weather was very cold or appetites had a sharp edge, HG/BSK preceded the meal with bowls of steaming dark red borscht decorated with a dollop of sour cream and accompanied by flaky piroshki (meat filled pastries). As a special treat, HG/BSK would take their kids to RTR for a Christmas holiday brunch (with SJ decked out in one of RTR’s loaned — and invariably over-sized — sport jackets) of butter drenched blini with red caviar and sour cream. Gifted Daughter Lesley R. pays tribute to this memory every Christmas Eve by making superior blini which the family tops with red caviar or smoked fish. Not to be outdone,on Christmas Day morning SJ makes very superior potato latkes (a modest nod to Chanukah) which get similar delicious treatment. Holiday feasting at its best.