HUNGRY GERALD

These days HG rarely eats red meat except for a once-a-month rack of lamb or rib steak. But, in yesteryear New York HG was a passionate carnivore. And, the Big Apple was world capital of perfectly cooked red meat. Center of steak worship was the east 40’s (Christ Cella, Palm. Danny’s Hideaway, McCarthy’s, Pen and Pencil, etc.). Christ Cella was HG’s favorite. In the west side theater district there was Gallagher’s; Frankie and Johnnie’s; Dinty Moore’s; Jack Dempsey’s. Cavanagh’s on 23rd Street had splendid steaks in a pleasant atmosphere. Roast beef was great at the Oak Room of the Algonquin Hotel and at Keen’s Chop House. Keen’s also had a giant mutton chop which is still on the menu today. HG preferred the mutton chop with corn fritters at the long closed, alas, Gage & Tollner’s in Brooklyn. The best roast beef sandwich was the French Dip at the Brass Rail on midtown Seventh Avenue. HG had many inexpensive roast beef sandwiches at McGiness on Broadway. Smoked meat–corned beef, pastrami plus lushly fatty brisket–ruled at Jewish delicatessens throughout the five boroughs. HG’s favorite: Gitlitz on 79th and Broadway. Jewish-Romanian steaks were washed down with frozen vodka in the madhouse schmaltz fueled Sammy’s Romanian on the lower east side. Also in the LES, Moscowitz & Lupowitz served a strangely named but tasty “mushk steak.” Scores of Irish taverns served corned beef and cabbage. Favorite of cops and firemen was Conolly’s on 23rd Street that had sublime open faced sandwiches of pot roast doused in an exceptional dark gravy. Yes HG managed to ingest much cholesterol but at 88 HG is still standing (slightly stooped), walking (slowly) and swimming (gracefully).

April 24 will be the centennial of the Easter Rising Rebellion in Dublin which eventually led to the establishment of the independent state of Ireland. Among other events, there will be a gathering of Irish bagpipers at St.Patrick’s Cathedral in New York City. HG will be sorry to miss that because there are few things more rousing than these bagpipers (specially when they are leading the New York St. Patrick’s Day parade) or saddening (when they play at the funerals of fallen police officers or firefighters). Alas, New York (principally Manhattan) seems to have lost the Irish flavor it had during HG’s younger days. HG misses the Irish politicians (Boss Flynn, Bronx Borough President James J.Lyons, Mayor Bill O’Dwyer, etc.) who had a human touch and a flair for creating consensus. HG misses the rich Irish brogue of the Transit Workers Union (TWU) chief, “Red Mike” Quills; the Irish tones of Fifth Avenue bus drivers; the Irish-tinged voice of the fighting liberal, Paul O’Dwyer. HG misses HG’s sandlot football teammates in The Bronx, tough guys with nicknames like Mick, Binny and Paddy. HG misses collaboration with his brilliant Irish public relations protege, Bruce Maguire, the president of the 61-year-old firm, Freeman Public Relations. HG misses the humor and insights of Irish journalists like Joe Flaherty (died at 47 of cancer). Like Jimmy Breslin (thankfully still alive and writing a Sunday column for the New York Daily News) he had an affinity for New York’s working class. Brooklyn-bred Flaherty left high school at 16 to work as a longshoreman and for years combined dock work with writing (he was a reporter for the Village Voice, author of four books and was the campaign manager for the Norman Mailer-Jimmy Breslin mayoralty ticket). Though the Irish are not noted for creative cuisine or fine dining, HG loved the food at Irish-owned Dinty Moore’s in Midtown (the only Irish joint with gefilte fish on the menu). HG misses the down to earth Irish saloons on Third Avenue (they vanished when the El came down and Third Avenue became the site of lofty office buildings and fashionable apartment houses). The saloons always had jars of hard boiled eggs and pickled pig’s feet on the bar (nice accompaniment to HG’s journalist dinner of rye whiskey with beer chasers). HG exhales a nostalgic sigh at the thought of saloon platters of corned beef and cabbage and open faced pot roast sandwiches smothered in brown gravy. The Irish seem to have vanished from Manhattan to enclaves in Queens, Brooklyn, The Bronx, Staten Island, Long Island, Westchester and Orange Counties, New Jersey, etc. Manhattan Isle isn’t the same without them.

St, Patrick’s Day has come and gone and tons of nasty corned beef and cabbage have been consumed. Irish bacon and greens was the traditional holiday dish in Ireland. This got converted to corned beef and cabbage in the United States (HG doesn’t know when). Anyway, today’s inebriated Paddy’s Day revelers eat stringy corned beef (injected with lots of chemical tenderizer), limp cabbage and sadly overdone boiled potatoes. HG’s late Mom would comment: “Feh!!”. There was a time when corned beef and cabbage was a gourmand dish and it was served at Dinty Moore’s, an Irish restaurant on W. 46th Street in New York’s theater district. James “Dinty” Moore opened the restaurant in the 1920’s. Closed in the early 70’s. If Lindy’s and the Stork Club were identified with Walter Winchell, the powerful columnist and radio personality, Dinty Moore’s was identified with Louis Sobol of the Journal-American, the kindest and gentlest of the Broadway columnists. James Moore was the favorite restaurateur of the theatrical and sporting gentry because he defied Prohibition. He ignored it. It was always business as usual at Dinty Moore’s. Moore was often hauled into court but he paid his fines with a smile and kept serving good strong spirits. As the years rolled by, Moore recognized the fact that many of his customers were Jewish. He added gefilte fish (much better than HG’s Mom’s version) to the menu and the Irish lamb stew, beef stew and liver and onions were always made with kosher products. (The rasher of bacon that accompanied the liver and onions was decidedly non-kosher). Prices were high but were paid uncomplainingly because everything served was of the highest quality, plainly cooked and not disguised by intricate sauces. The signature dessert was rice pudding. It was sublime. It was a favorite of Jimmy Cannon, the eloquent sports columnist. A number of generations have grown up seeing Dinty Moore’s Beef Stew on supermarket shelves. No connection with the restaurant and HG doubts if it tastes anything like the wonderful New York food HG consumed at Dinty’s.

There is a glittery expanse of Montparnasse in Paris that is filled with movie houses, creperies and four landmark restaurants. The super-pricey (and worth it) Le Dome which serves the best grilled sole in Paris (the fish swims in sublime lemony melted butter). La Rotonde which has fine oysters and steak tartare. Select (nice for a pre-dinner drink). La Coupole (beautiful art deco decor and fine oysters but everything else is miserable in this chain-operated trap for tourists). Montparnasse reminds HG of New York’s Broadway in its glory days (which ended in the 60’s). There were the big time movie houses: Paramount (where Frank Sinatra thrilled the bobby soxers); Capitol, Strand (all with stage shows in addition to first run movies)). Also Criterion, Trans-Lux, Palace, etc. Loads of good restaurants (mass and class) starting at 42nd Street and moving north into the 50’s where they gave way to auto showrooms. Here were some of them: Hector’s Cafeteria (good, cheap food); Rosoff’s (excellent roast duck); Turf (fine cheesecake); McGinnis’ (lavish roast beef sandwiches plus sea food specialties); Jack Dempsey’s (The champ served fine steaks). Just a few steps oiff Broadway was Gluckstern’s, a top flight Jewish kosher restaurant (not to be confused with the OTHER Gluckstern’s that was on Delancey St.). Also just off Broadway was Dinty Moore’s (best corned beef and cabbage plus liver with onions and bacon). The unquestioned essential Broadway restaurant was Lindy’s. Immortalized in Damon Runyon’s fiction. Comedians like Milton Berle, Jack E.Leonard, Jack Carter and Henny Youngman topped each other with one liners in its environs. It was where the powerful columnist Walter Winchell lunched. Song writers, bookmakers, gamblers, press agents, actors, producers, musicians and other colorful folk filled the tables. The food, which ranged from Jewish-American specialties to superb pork sausages with eggs, was splendid. And, the cheesecake was legendary (even better than Junior’s or Turf). What happened to the wonderful New York cuisine that Lindy’s exemplified? Gone. The world changes and not always for the better.

They are not good for you since they are virtual cholesterol bombs. However, HG, like virtually the rest of the world excluding the U.S.A., loves innards. Kidneys. Splendid in a steak and kidney pie. Lush in a creamy mustard sauce. HG liked them at Sardi’s, the New York theatrical hangout, where they were grilled and served with lamb chops. Of course, rognons (kidneys) rule in France where they are often cooked blood rare.

Don’t see tongue on menus very often (Except when eating Korean food!). Al Cooper’s, a steak house in the New York garment district, served a thick cut of tongue with creamed spinach and super hot mustard and horse radish. Sweetbreads are a treat. Hotel Algonquin on W. 44th used to serve grilled sweetbreads on a slice of Virginia ham accompanied by thin cut French fries and Sauce Bearnaise. Yum.

Calf’s liver. Should be served pink. The accompaniment of fried onions and crisp bacon is obligatory. The dish reached Olympian heights at Dinty Moore’s (not to be confused with the dreadful line of canned beef stews) a long shuttered restaurant in the theater district (Dinty also did the classic corned beef and cabbage). HG likes chicken livers sauteed crisp and pink. Good with scrambled eggs or in a frisee salad or served over pasta (with plenty of olive oil, garlic and parsley). The chicken fat, fried onion and black radish drenched chopped chicken livers at Sammy’s Romanian are a naughty treat.

HG likes head cheese, tete de veau and all the other elaborate things done with the interior of a cow’s head. One of the best edibles in the world is a cow’s (or lamb’s) brains. The French do brains best, sauteed gently in butter, topped with warm capers and accompanied by a potato puree.

HG has dined on lungs and heart. Got them down, but not a treat. HG does not know if bull’s testicles should be classified as an innard. In any case, prairie oysters are un-yummy.

HG’s favorite innard is tripe. In the form of green chili menudo, HG enjoys it every ten days at the delightful El Parasol restaurant in HG’s New Mexico neighborhood. The ten day limit is self imposed, HG’s response to BSK’s gentle health warnings.

'Offal Taste' Photo Series by Stephanie Diani