HUNGRY GERALD

Off to Noel (BSK’s sister) and husband Yossi’s Ocean Mist Farm in Gasperaux (southeast side of Prince Edward Island). N and Y have created a green wonderland on their acreage. Big vegetable garden. Potatoes and garlic scapes are standouts. Rainier cherry tree. Apple trees. Strawberry plants. Currants. Grapes. And, more. Much more. In addition, there is livestock: Lambs, calves and four adorable piglets. Plus Sophie, a happy, friendly dog. Toby, The Wonder Dog, was beguiled by the piglets and quickly made friends with the little oinkers. Much for Haru and Teru to taste and experience. An Israeli-influenced lunch in N and Y’s big (Noel is expert at knocking down walls in farmhouses to create lofty areas) sunny dining room. On the table was Noel’s signature hummus. Sliced tomatoes. Olives. Cheese. Sausage. Icy beer and cider. Delightfully nourished, the group was off to the calm waters and the clam filled shore of St. Mary’s Bay. Teru had a happy time floating on her life preserver in the warm sea. Noel, Haru (and later, Yossi and BSK) were off on their paddle boards where they stood up and paddled with the tides. Haru, a beginner, proved remarkably adept. Not surprising. Handsome Haru, on a New Mexico visit, proved equally precocious on skis. The 10-year-old is gifted with a good sense of balance. When not in the water, the group raked for clams (garnered some four dozen). HG, once a champion clammer with gifted feet, has lost the ability. Contributed only two clams. But, had a joyous time swimming and floating. Back home for a lusty dinner of fried hake (an HG culinary specialty), local string beans and Yossi’s incomparable little spuds. HG preceded dinner with a large Myriad View gin and tonic. The United States (and much of the world) seems to be going crazy, fixated on violent death and racism, Prince Edward Island remains a civilized haven of gentle manners, lively music, warm seas, broad beaches, green farms and great seafood. HG and BSK are glad they have created a family retreat here.

SJ and family–wife Exquisite Maiko, son Haru (age 7) and daughter Teru (age 2)–are here in New Mexico for Passover/Easter vacation. Among the joys for HG is hanging out with Haru, a quirky, original, fascinating fellow. Unlike his father, a guy who likes to cook and eat (a barbecue specialist), and his mother, a super skilled chef (more about her in a following post), Haru is not (understatement) passionate about food. Ribs, pizza, pasta, ice cream bars are his staples and when not available nourishes himself with milk and cookies. Despite his limited menu (and limited protein intake), Haru has plenty of physical and intellectual energy. While in New Mexico, Haru paddles about the lap pool for hours, hikes in the Barrancas (scenic cliffs) with his father, feeds the fish in HG/BSK’s somewhat murky pond, helps HG make the nightly blaze in the fireplace (Haru has dubbed himself “Prince of Fire”). When truly interested in a subject, Haru’s memory and concentration are startling. His latest interest is the American Presidency. Last night he recited, in chronological order, all of the American Presidents. Even the obscure (Pierce, Fillmore, Tyler, Arthur, etc.) were remembered with laser-like precision. For the next hour, Haru entertained everyone with little known facts about the Presidents. Fascinating. When HG has a little guy like Haru around, HG reaps rich grandpop rewards.

HG was discussing “scary” movies with his knowledgeable six-year-old grandson, Haru Sakamto Freeman. Haru doesn’t like such films and neither does HG. When little HG was Haru’s age, his beloved sister brought him to a local cinema to see Bela Lugosi in Dracula. The little fellow was traumatized. Still has an unreasonably negative attitude toward mosquito munching bats. Discussion about horror led HG, inevitably, to thoughts of horror meals he has confronted. The worst was somewhere in Vermont. On a country road HG and famished family stopped at a pretty chalet that advertised German home cooking. Oompah music greeted HG and family as they entered and a jolly gent in lederhosen lead us to our table and a steam table buffet. Food must have lingered in that buffet for months. There was mold, congealed grease. Food was not only inedible, it was probably lethal. On another New England trip, HG encountered a New England clam chowder composed of library paste and stale flour. HG’s fury at this horrifying soup has become the stuff of a family legend, oft repeated. HG and BSK once went on a trail riding vacation in Wyoming. The starting point was an attractive ranch where HG and BSK were promised down home Western cooking. This consisted of “instant” potatoes, semi-raw baked (from the texture it might have been crow or vulture) chicken and canned string beans. Jello mold for dessert. After a day’s ride (great horses, spectacular scenery) we bunked at another ranch. Served steak (that’s the way it was described). HG sawed away with his steak knife. Could not make any headway. Had to content himself with Wonder bread (stale) and canned baked beans (luke warm). Rugged cowboy at our table managed to cut his meat and chewed loudly. “Mighty tasty,” said the ranch gourmand. In New York’s Chinatown, HG was once intrigued by a dish at a neighboring table that was being heartily enjoyed by a Chinese family. HG pointed at it and disdaining the advice of his waiter, ordered it. A plate of shoe leather and rubber bands on a bed of rotted fish heads (that’s the way it tasted). These are the only horror meals HG recalls. HG’s healthy food psyche has blanked the others.

SJ is back in Brooklyn tending to biz but daughter-in-law Exquisite Maiko and grandson Inimitable Haru remain in New Mexico for a few more days. This means pure Maiko Magic in the kitchen. HG and BSK were dazzled last night by a halibut, salad and Soba noodle dinner that exemplified the Maiko approach: Simplicity. Purity. Taste. Visual beauty.

HG watched the preparation carefully but might have missed some steps or ingredients. First, Maiko sliced cucumber paper thin, washed and dried baby arugula and some other field greens; sliced garlic very thinly. Halibut was cut into slightly larger than bite size pieces. Garlic and seaweed went into a sizzling pan. The garlic and seaweed quickly crisped and were placed on a paper towel to drain. The garlic was perfectly crisp and brown with none of the bitterness that burning can cause — its a cooking trick HG has never mastered. Then came the real magic part. Heat under the pan was raised to moderate. The fish went into the pan with some white wine and a bit of sesame oil. The pan was covered and the fish was alternately seared by the heat and steamed to perfection.

Maiko arranged a platter. An enticing circle of cucumber and a mound of salad greens as the base for the fish. Acting upon some clock in her head, Maiko removed the fish from the range, placed the pieces on the base of greens, sprinkled all with pan juices and topped it with the crisp garlic and seaweed mixture. There was room temperature Soba on the table, enriched by Mentsuyu (a broth of sorts) and thin strips of nori (the dried seaweed that wraps sushi rolls and hand rolls). Wasabi was at hand. HG and BSK were startled by the halibut. Not a favorite fish, considered tasteless. But, this was halibut full of juice and flavor. The garlic chips didn’t mask the taste but just added a crisp counterpoint to the lush halibut. There will be more fish tonight. We are grateful to the Shinto gods, Japanese culture and Maiko’s wizardry.