HUNGRY GERALD

“Eat your vegetables!!” “Finish your brocoli — or no dessert!!” “Eat them — they’re good for you!!” Yes, as children, we were all subject to threats, pleadings and promises regarding vegetables. And, naturally, this has led to resistance. What didn’t come across was the fact that vegetables, if treated properly, are very tasty and worthy companions to good red wine. Witness the roasted vegetable platter prepared this week by life companion BSK. Neither a doctrinaire vegetarian nor a rigid health nut, BSK nonetheless glories in vegetables and treats them imaginatively and with dignity. For the vegetable dinner, BSK filled a baking pan with cauliflower florets, slices of red pepper, radishes,fennel slices, chick peas, chunks of turnip and carrot, Brussel sprouts. This colorful melange got a nice dousing of garlic infused olive oil plus a sprinkling of ground pepper, kosher salt and Goya Adobo. For crunch, BSK topped the vegetables with some finely chopped pancetta (a bow to HG’s infatuation with Italian piggy products). Into a 375 degree oven. Roasted into levels of crisp and unctuous. BSK also cooked some quinoa with onions and mushrooms in chicken stock. This was the centerpiece of the vegetable extravaganza. A companion was a very big bowl of Greek yogurt enriched with oil, garlic, Tsatziki spices, some preserved lemon and piquant Spanish smoked paprika. Adding a Middle Eastern touch was a small dish of harissa. Delicious. Some worthy folks like George Bernard Shaw and I.B. Singer were dedicated vegetarians. HG doubts they ever tasted anything as good as BSK’s creation even with the pancetta and chicken broth eliminated.

HG knew that good times with a Middle Eastern bent were beckoning when HG saw BSK fill a container with preserved lemons from the Whole Foods olive counter. This was confirmed when BSK began to browse through the two best books on Moroccan and Middle Eastern food: Couscous and Other Good Food From Morocco by Paula Wolfert and Arabesque — A Taste of Morocco, Turkey & Lebanon by Claudia Roden. And, so it came to pass that Middle Eastern flavors provided great joy when two friends joined HG and BSK for dinner. The meal started with Baba Ganoush (the famous pureed eggplant dip) and Moroccan carrot salad. Then came the main: A tagine of chicken with preserved lemons and olives. Sides were Israeli couscous cooked with onions, garlic, stock and spices plus a melange of vegetables (turnips, chickpeas, onions, etc.) swimming in a savory broth. Harissa (fiery pepper paste). Warmed pita. Pinot Noir. And finally Zinfandel with dark chocolate almond bark for dessert. A much more triumphant meal than any HG and BSK encountered during their visits to the Moroccan cities of Tangier, Casablanca, Rabat, Fez, Tetuoan, Meknes and Marrakesh. To be fair to those wonderful cities, insiders confided to HG that the great meals of Morocco are to be found in private homes as restaurant dining is not really part of the culture.

Sometimes the unexpected or improvised meals turn out the best. Went to an afternoon showing of Life of Pi (Recommended by Gifted Daughter Lesley whose film counsel HG and BSK always follow). Enjoyed the movie. However the leading man closely resembled Vikram Vij of Vij’s, HG’s favorite Vancouver restaurant (extraordinary Indian fusion food). His countenance made both HG and BSK ravenously hungry. The peckish duo popped into Jambo African-Caribbean Restaurant (30 minute wait). Off to Mu Du Noodles (One hour wait for Asiatic cuisine). Motored home. Dusted off a jar of Mezzetta Porcini Pasta Sauce in the pantry (tasted in a supermarket sampling and found it quite good). Also In pantry was box of DiCecco Pappardelle. BSK enriched the jarred sauce with anchovies, garlic, capers, dry porcini mushrooms (softened in hot water) and olive oil. Served the steaming pasta with shavings of good, authentic parmigiano reggiano. A bottle of “1967” Tuscan red. Green salad with Italian truffle cheese. Marvelous meal. It’s good to have a well stocked pantry and frig.

One of the protagonists of Life of Pi was a tiger named “Richard Parker.” Excellent performance, deserving of an Academy Award. HG’s fantasy: Tiger wins award. Pads up to podium. Eats Al Pacino. Leaves his toupée.

Montmartre, that steep hill in Paris, has always attracted tourists in droves. They are drawn to the storied artistic and literary traditions of the neighborhood and the film Amelie, (set in Montmartre) only fueled that tourist fire. At the highest point of Montmartre sits La Basilica du Sacre Coeur, the big wedding cake of a cathedral with fabulous views of the Paris panorama. A few blocks away from La Basilica is Place du Tertre, the low point of international tourism. Souvenir junk. Lousy restaurants. And, scores of “artists,” all busy at their easels turning out vapid crap. With all of this in mind, HG has some reluctance about telling you of his favorite Montmartre hangout — La Cave des Abbesses (relatively untouched by tourism — at least for now). It’s just up the hill from Place des Abbesses, the busy, colorful square often enlivened by a carousel and street musicians. The Cave is a wine shop with hundreds of tasty, modestly priced wines. Unadvertised by any signs is a back room cafe with old tables, battered chairs, nondescript posters and a bar. Slightly dingy. Poorly lit. Dusty. In a word, perfect. It has been HG’s custom to sit there drinking white wine and slurping oysters (usually the very good oysters are priced at one Euro an oyster). There are very pleasant platters of cheese and charcuterie. Good bread (there’s a prize winning baguette baker across the street). The atmosphere is welcoming. All pretense is left at the door. Time passes in a wine drenched haze. When HG first discovered The Cave, he and BSK were lodged in a rented Montmartre apartment. HG dropped into La Cave to pick up some wine before crossing the street to buy smoked salmon, pate, ham, cheese, a baguette (and, possibly, a roast chicken) for an evening meal with BSK. What harm could a glass of wine do before the errands? Well, that “one glass of wine” proved fictional. For a day or so, multiple glasses of wine were drunk, errands were forgotten, oysters were eaten and roast chickens remained shop-bound, turning slowly under the rotisserie as HG fell deeply in love with The Cave. This did not make a famished BSK happy as she waited for meals that never came. Finally, BSK solved this bibulous problem by taking the intelligent “if you can’t beat em, join em” step and accompanied HG on the evening shopping (and drinking). Sometimes the errands were postponed. After all, what’s wrong with a meal of oysters, sausages, grilled vegetables and cheese? (With wine, bien sur.).

A very-much-missed BSK arrived home yesterday after a five day trip to Florida to visit her 93-year-old Mom. HG prepared the welcome home dinner: Kir Royale cocktails. Then some more sparkling whites with Norwegian gravlax which is lightly cured in salt, sugar and dill and expertly sliced in paper-thin servings. HG made a simple dressing of Dijon mustard, olive oil, sugar and dill to highlight its perfection. Main dish was Petrale sole, dusted in Zatarain’s fry mix and lightly sauteed in hot grapeseed oil. Accompanied by boiled fingerling potaotes sprinkled with olive oil and dill. Drank House wine from Washington State (HG does not comply with the outdated white wine with fish rule — except in the case of smoked fish). Butter lettuce salad. A bit of triple creme Brie. Port and a nut cookie. For HG, best part of the meal was seeing BSK’s face across the dining table.

BSK mixed five culinary cultures to create a comforting, harmonious meal for HG and BSK. It started with a three-egg omelette prepared in the classic French manner: Plenty of butter; gentle brown exterior and soft (the French describe it as “oozing”) interior. BSK filled this lovely creation with plenty of Greek feta cheese and a dusting of Mexican oregano. This was topped with a pork enhanced green chile sauce (spicy but not overpowering). BSK creates and freezes lots of this wonderful sauce every autumn. That’s when New Mexico green chiles are in season and the aroma of roasting chiles fills the Santa Fe air. Accompaniments were warmed corn tortillas (pita could have been substituted) and freshly made, fiery pico de gallo from the Pojoaque Super Market. Beverage was deep red Nero d’Avolo wine from Sicily. As a bow to the Orient, BSK and HG cooled their palates with a dessert of green tea ice cream. Ah, wouldn’t it be splendid if the world’s cultures could exist in the peaceful harmony they achieve in BSK’s kitchen?

Cuisine from the Italian region of Puglia isn’t well known in this country. Emilia-Romagana, the Veneto (especially Venice); Piedmont, Sicily are familiar to many Americans. Puglia remains obscure. HG loves Orechiette (“little ears”), a favored pasta shape in Puglia. BSK likes to smother these cute morsels with BSK’s broccoli sauce (good olive oil, anchovies, lots of garlic and hot pepper flakes; broccoli florets). BSK varies it by using broccoli di rabe and hot Italian sausage. Good stuff. Over the years a few Pugliese restaurants have opened (and closed) to great fanfare but there is one Pugliese restaurant that remains in New York — the imaginatively named Puglia in Little Italy. Been there since 1919. HG used to eat there many years ago. Loved the restaurant’s version of pasta e fagioli. HG was a bit timid in those days and shunned Puglia’s authentic tripe dishes and sheep’s head (kind of a peasant version of French tete de veau). HG checked Puglia’s current menu. These dishes do not appear. Menu (sadly) is like most of the others in Little Italy. Dumbed down food for tourists.

This might be the best Christmas holiday ever. It began with the surprise gift to Beautiful Granddaughter Sofia R. of Pippy, certainly the most enchanting puppy HG has ever encountered. Then the traditional Feast of the Seven Fishes (Jewish-Japanese-Italian style as befitting the multi-ethnic group). Three types of smoked salmon; smoked tuna; wasabi enhanced flying fish roe (Tobiko); whitefish; sable; red salmon caviar. All prime stuff from Russ & Daughters on New York’s Lower East Side. SJ also provided the table with plenty of scallion cream cheese and superior Kosar’s bialys, bagels and that baked rarity — the old fashioned “pletzel” (onion roll). Big bowls of sour cream plus raw onions, capers, lemon wedges and three varieties of pickles (sour, half-sours and green tomatoes). Lesely R. made her ethereal blinis and crepes while SJ sizzled his superb, crisp potato pancakes. But, for HG, the star of the feast was herring, namely raw Dutch herring from the cold waters of the Netherlands coast. HG coated the delicious morsels with chopped raw onions. Chilled Tito’s Vodka. Black and Tan (Guinesss Stout and Bass Ale, mixed half-and-half). HG drank these accompaniments to happy excess. Christmas morning, HG received gala gifts — a cane topped with the ivory head of a fierce eagle from Lesley and Massimo R.; a soft and warm flannel nightshirt plus nightcap; A Russian faux fur hat emblazoned with the hammer and sickle (warming gifts from BSK who likes a Heated Hubby); old time candy bars and a wanted book from SJ; a copy of the latest installment of Robert Caro’s monumental biography of LBJ and other literature from L. and M. R.; granola of the gods handcrafted by Gifted Granddaughter Arianna R. L. and M.R. gave BSK the complete Hellen Mirren/ “Prime Suspect” DVDs (perfect for chill weather viewing), SJ presented BSK with her own website, putting BSK’s glorious pottery online. Everyone else received thoughtful and glorious gifts. Wishes were fulfilled. Joy was unconfined. Sometimes materialism is sheer fun. Christmas Day dinner was a rerun of the previous feast with the addition of chopped liver plus pastrami and tongue from Katz’s Deli in New York plus smoked ham sourced by SJ from the illustrious Polish butcher, Jubilat Provisions in Brooklyn. Because of eccentric schedules and the arrival of Restaurateur Daughter Victoria F. on the day after Christmas, the Christmas dinner of brisket and assorted good things will be delayed for a day. Worth waiting for. (Also, HG must fully recover from much ingestion of an after dinner alcoholic digestif, Limoncello, handcrafted by Lesley R. for her bibulous Dad).

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.

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.