HUNGRY GERALD

HG, like his beloved late sister, Beulah Naomi Katz, is fond of sweet Vidalia onions. In New Mexico, HG has discovered Texas Sweets, an onion as sweet as Vidalias. They’ve got an advantage: A longer pantry life. Sliced raw sweet onions enhance many dishes. Essential with a hamburger. Delightful with Tandoori chicken. Good canned sardines, sliced onions, Kalamata olives and artisan bread make a pleasant lunch. The best use of sliced onions: In a sandwich of rare roast beef, Jewish rye bread well lathered with chicken fat, coarse salt. (A delicatessen in Harlem, when it was a Jewish neighborhood, made a specialty of this sandwich. Long lines awaited the robust treat). HG likes finely chopped onion in tuna salad. Even better is canned Italian (or Spanish) tuna mixed with cannellini beans, chopped onion, parsley, Sicilian olive oil, squeeze of lemon and plenty of ground black pepper. The late Italian food guru, Marcella Hazan, proposed a dish of slowly cooked, slightly caramelized onions over pasta. Sounds good but have never tried it. One of HG’s favorite, appetite enhancing aromas is that of frying onion. Good times are sure to follow. HG has a happy memory of the after school treat prepared by HG’s Mom. Thick slice of Stuhmer’s Pumpernickel Bread. Chicken fat (rendered weekly by Mom). Sliced onion. Coarse salt. Properly fueled, HG would be off to star in Bronx street games like punchball and “association” football.

Kasha (also known as buckwheat groats) is one of HG’s favorite foods. HG is always puzzled why it’s so seldom on restaurant menus (except for the rapidly diminishing number of Jewish “dairy” restaurants) and is so rarely used in home cooking. Simple to make. The kasha grains are mixed with beaten egg and sautéed until dried. A few cups of chicken broth are added to the saucepan and the mix is cooked until the grains become soft (Warning: Never overcook into a mush). HG likes kasha topped with fried onions and mushrooms (accompanied by a bowl of sour cream and plenty of ground pepper and sea salt flakes). Great topped with fried chicken livers and onions. Kasha Varnishkes used to be a staple in traditional Jewish eateries. In these kosher (non dairy) restaurants the mix of kasha and butterfly (farfalle) pasta would get an exhilarating hit of crisp fried onions and a big dollop of chicken fat. A young HG would accompany this treat with plenty of cold vodka and beer at Moe Dubiner’s eponymous non-kosher restaurant (long closed) on New York’s Stanton Street. It was a big favorite of the Jewish gangsters and gamblers who came to the restaurant for a late night snack. Kasha is versatile. Great in a big bowl of steaming chicken broth. Excellent as a filling in traditional blintzes (an egg crepe topped with kasha, rolled and then fried gently) or knishes (a flaky stuffed pastry). Best of all as an accompaniment to slow roasted beef brisket. Obligatory is lots and lots of savory gravy.

Yes, schmaltz, delectable chicken fat, is making a comeback. It’s in the news. The New York Times recently reported that restaurant chefs and knowing home cooks are using the magical ingredient to enhance a variety of dishes. While some cardiologists and health police deride the golden goodness of chicken fat others are proving that, yes indeed, Moms may have been right all along citing schmaltz’s high level of heart healthy mono-saturated fats. Well, chicken fat may not be as good for the body as kale, but it provides real solace for the soul. HG’s favorite after school snack was a slice of Stuhmer’s pumpernickel bread covered with a good quarter-inch of chicken fat, kosher salt and black pepper. (Sometimes, HG’s thoughtful Mom added a slice of raw onion). Thus fortified, little HG was ready for competitive street games of punchball and “association” football. (The street was a playground in the 30’s and wartime 40’s since automobiles were scarce). HG’s Dad’s favorite use of chicken fat was in the form of “grieven” (or “gribenehs”). These were crisp, salty, lush bits of rendered chicken skin. The late, beloved Hershele Zvi Freimann would accompany this treat with a slice of rye bread and a modest tumbler of Park & Tilford rye whiskey. HG has a fond memory of HG’s Mom’s chopped hard boiled eggs and onions mixed with plenty of schmaltz. Her “latkes” (potato pancakes) fried in chicken fat were superior. There was plenty of chicken fat in her chopped liver. This was accompanied by slices of pungent black radish, also liberally gilded with schmaltz. The Temple of Schmaltz is Sammy’s Romanian Restaurant on New York’s Lower East Side. There’s a pitcher of schmaltz on every table. There’s also a bottle of vodka encased in ice. So, be assured, a raucous, inebriated, nostalgic good time is to be had. A schmaltzy joint, indeed.

Good news. A health magazine recently reported that pork rinds are a (relatively) healthy food. Yes, plenty of fat in these bits of fried pork skins but its a good kind of fat and the skins contain plenty of beneficial oelic acid. Since HG likes to scatter some pork rinds over a bowl of green chili stew the happy report caused HG to muse over other (not so healthy) fried favorites. When HG used to visit the streets of the Washington Heights section of Manhattan (lots of Puerto Ricans, Dominicans and Cubans lived there) HG would often drop into one of the plain spoken restaurants for a favorite meal: Moros y Cristianos ( Moors and Christians–black beans and rice topped with chopped raw onions) and a bowl of Chicharrones (fried pork fat, a by product of lard production). When in a hurry, HG would buy a snack at a Cuchifrito. A Cuchifrito is a colorfully decorated rolling cart that sells freshly made fried foods. (“Cuchifrito” also refers to a whole range of fried pork dishes served in Puerto Rican restaurants). HG remembers with fondness the baccalitos (salt cod pancakes) and rellenos de papas (fried mashed potato balls stuffed with meat or cheese) dispensed by a little cart near St. Nicholas Avenue. However, when HG explores the fried food HG memory bank, the taste standout is old fashioned fried chicken skin (fried in chicken fat, of course) that HG’s Mom cooked while she was rendering schmaltz (chicken fat). A favorite HG childhood sandwich was two slices of Pechter’s Pumpernickel Bread enhanced with an abundance of chicken fat, fried onions and a load of fried chicken skin (gribenes.) Serve a youngster that dish today and it’s off to jail you’ll go for impairing the health of a minor. HG has learned that the Second Avenue Delicatessen in New York (the new one in the East 30’s–the revered old one on Second Avenue closed following a rent dispute) serves a free “amuse bouche” of gribenes. Must indulge on next New York visit.

As HG luxuriates in front of a crackling fire at his New Mexico home watching news reports of three foot snow drifts battering the East Coast, HG notices a funny sensation. A nostalgic hunger for the soups HG’s Mom fed the family. They warmed HG and family in the winter and cooled them in the summer. Winter-time soups were either kapustah or potato soup. Kapustah, as HG recollects it, was a cabbage, onion, tomato, garlic melange in a beef broth enlivened with chunks of boiled beef. This was topped with a big ladle full of sour cream plus some fiery, freshly grated horseradish. With a few slices of Stuhmer’s (or Pechter’s) pumpernickel (with the savory spread of chicken fat and coarse salt) this was a solid, filling, cold weather dinner. The potato soup was simple. Just boiled potatoes and onions in a rich beef stock. A lunch dish. Warm weather soups were beet borscht and schav, both served cold. Mom’s borscht was incomparable. She used something she called “sour salt” to balance the sugary earthiness of the beets, giving the soup a distinctive sweet-tart taste. It received the usual topping of sour cream plus a healthy shower of chopped scallions and radishes. It was accompanied by a hot, buttered boiled potato. Schav was a sorrel soup, mouth puckeringly sour. Unlike the English Sorrel soup, the sorrel in Schav is not pureed but left in its leafy state. This soup was served icy cold (sometimes ice cubes were added to the bowl). Sour cream, naturally, and the obligatory boiled potato. During those non-air conditioned years of yesteryear, schav was a lifesaver on a blazing New York summer day.

HG’s Mom often prepared HG’s favorite after-school snack: A slice of Pechter’s Pumpernickel liberally covered with chicken fat and topped with sliced onion and kosher salt. As HG matured, he pondered his Mom’s heritage which encouraged such obviously unhealthy food. Well, the small town — well, shtetl really — Belorussian lady knew something. Chicken fat (aka Schmaltz) is rich in lineolic acid, an omega 6 fatty acid with many health benefits. So, comrades, schmaltz it up with impunity. It is essential with chopped liver. Very good with garlicky chopped eggplant. Enhances fried onions. HG likes to stir it into a bowl of Goya garbanzos topped with microplaned garlic and sea salt. (HG intends to pair it with Duvel Belgian Ale while watching key NCAA basketball games).

Chicken fat can be ordered online from: mykoshermarket.com. Or, make it yourself (many easy recipes — such as this ONE — to be found online ). DYI chicken fat provides crispy and delicious bits of chicken skin known as “gribenes” — Jewish cuchifritos. For a carnivorous meal drenched in chicken fat go to the Shrine of Schmaltz: Sammy’s Roumanian Restaurant on New York’s Lower East Side. Wash the golden grease down with plenty of frozen vodka. L’chaim!!

Haven’t seen these delicious snacks in New York for years (maybe banned by the anti-cholesterol crusaders and the stricter standards of today’s Health Department): Jewish rye bread topped with 1/8 to 1/4 inch of chicken fat. The base for very rare, room temperature roast beef and sliced raw onions (much coarse salt and black pepper). Kosher garlic dills on the side.

Meaty, pickled pig knuckles. A staple at Third Avenue Irish bars. Every bar had a big jar of them (many Irish bars also served hard boiled eggs). During HG’s journalism days he often supped at the Mirror Bar in the Daily Mirror building (east 45th off Third) — two shots of Imperial Rye Whiskey, one hard boiled egg, one pig knuckle, one Ballantine Ale. Meal and beverages cost a little more than a dollar.

The Jewish bars on the Lower East Side served thickly battered, room temperature fish fillets as a thirst producing giveaway. The fish was fried in chicken fat and given zest with grated garlic and a dusting of cayenne pepper. HG enjoyed this savory snack at a bar on Essex (off Delancey) favored by small time gamblers, shylocks and other unsavory types.

All delicious. All un-healthy. All Missed.

Zero Mostel portrait on last post spurred HG thoughts about that comic genius/egomaniac/monster. He got his unusual name when he made his debut at the Cafe Society night club in Greenwich Village. He had no background. No reputation. Therefore, he was dubbed “Zero.” Of course, he was a sensation and his career took off like a comet until he was blacklisted in the Joe McCarthy Red Menace era. Zero named no names and rebuffed the inquisitors. He retired to his studio in the wholesale flower district of Manhattan and painted. He was quite a good painter. He outlasted McCarthy and triumphed in film with “The Producers,” and on Broadway with “Fiddler on the Roof,” and many other plays.

HG remembers waiting before the smoked fish counter at Zabar’s, the renowned food emporium on the Upper West Side. Zero was there and he and HG chatted and expressed mutual admiration for Zabar’s Russian pumpernickel bread. HG told Zero pumpernickel and chicken fat had been his favorite after school snack. Commented Zero: “Pumpernickel and chicken fat killed more Jews than Hitler.”