HUNGRY GERALD

During HG’s many years in New York, the greedy fellow managed to eat many scores of hot dogs. The tube steak was an essential food during HG’s financially challenged young years. But, even as HG prospered, the HG appetite for hot dogs remained intense. Favorite venue for the treat was Papaya King on E.86th Street and Third Avenue. Two dogs with mustard and sauerkraut and a Pina Colada drink. Perfect. The Nedick’s chain used to be omnivorous in New York (Its Herald Square location fronting on Macy’s was possibly the busiest hot doggery in the world). The dogs were served on a toasted bun spread with a special mustard relish and accompanied by a very good orange drink. Very inexpensive. The chain disappeared in the 1950’s. The Riese organization tried to revive the brand in 2003. The effort failed. Nathan’s Famous (The original is still located on the Coney Island boardwalk and there are now locations throughout the country) served an exemplary dog. HG, however, rarely ate them but favored Nathan’s clams on the half shell, fried soft shell crab sandwiches and other good things from the sea. Nathan’s sloppy, messy, yummy chow mein sandwich on a hamburger bun, was another HG fave. New York once had many traditional Jewish delicatessens serving good Hebrew National or Isaac Gellis dogs plus “Specials” (Plump, garlicky knockwursts). HG always thought the stands offering Sabrett’s “dirty water” hot dogs were vile. According to SJ, if you want a great dog in downtown New York, go to Katz’s, the pastrami emporium. Though the pastrami may have gone downhill, the hot dog is big time. As for sausage, HG’s favorite was the New York italian pork sausage containing plenty of fennel seeds. Best served from the back of a truck in Greenwich Village. The sausage was laid on a wedge of Italian bread and topped with plentiful fried onions and peppers. All of the many inexpensive “red sauce” Italian restaurants of HG’s youth served savory, abundant platters of sausage and peppers. Accompanied by a side dish of buttered and parmesan dusted ziti and washed down with cheap Chianti from a wicker wrapped bottle, this was hearty affordable eating. New York once had scores of German restaurants dispensing grilled bratwurst with sauerkraut and fried potatoes. The dish was flanked by a big glass of good beer. The best brats were found at Luchow’s on 14th Street and Blue Ribbon in the theater district. Both long closed, alas. When in Paris, HG enjoys boudin noir and boudin blanc. The boudin noir, a blood sausage, is usually accompanied by sautéed apple slices,. A winning combination. HG does not favor the excrement smelling French chitterling sausage. HG considers it a French aberration akin to that nation’s worship of Jerry Lewis and Mickey Rourke.

HG never encountered the Frito Pie until HG and BSK’s move to New Mexico. Now, it ranks alongside the vaunted Nathan’s Chow Mein Sandwich (available ONLY at Nathan’s Coney Island location) as HG’s favorite messy, silly, funky treat. Let’s clarify one point. The Frito Pie is not a pie. It is composed of a pile of Fritos (yes, those crispy, salty corn things in a bag) covered in beans, red chile, cheddar cheese and topped with shredded iceberg lettuce. Piquant salsa or hot sauce is added to taste. Originally, this was constructed in a very proletarian manner: A bag of Fritos was opened. The chile, beans, etc., were poured into the bag. The bag served as both bowl and a vehicle for transporting this lovely meal. You ate the sauce-drenched corn chips with a spoon. El Parasol (in Pojaque about 15 miles north of Santa Fe) makes the Frito pie a bit more elaborate, serving it in a proper bowl with green chile and chopped raw onions upon request. A crunchy, spicy pleasure. HG believes the original rough and ready Frito Pie is still being served at the Five and Dime Store located on The Plaza in downtown Santa Fe.

It seems that the very odd treat — the chow mein sandwich — is alive and well. As HG has previously posted, the Chow Mein sandwich is a guilty pleasure, a low-end treat relished by HG and only available at Nathan’s Famous hot dog emporium on Coney Island and its branch (long closed) in the mid-Manhattan movie and theater district. A very messy sandwich. Care and numerous napkins ae required. A year ago, this sandwich appeared at Lee’s Chinese in Rhode Island. And now, HG has just read, with pleasure, that the chow mein sandwich has been thriving at Mee Sum Restaurant and Cocktail Lounge in Fall River, Mass. Jane and Michael Stern, those intrepid discoverers of funky food on America’s highways (and creators of the seminal Road Food Good Food books and website), reported on the cuisine of Fall River in this month’s (March 2013) issue of Saveur Magazine. They describe the excellence of the noodles on the Mee Sum sandwich: “Thin and elegant, fried until wicked crisp, the noodles are an ideal foil for brown gravy laced with celery and onion. The sandwich is a fascinating textural swirl: soft and crunchy, wet and brittle.” The Sterns, noting the treat is “mischievously delicious,” observe the chow mein sandwich is little known except as an “oddity” at Nathan’s. It all sounds good but the mention of “brown gravy” is enticing. Nathan’s sandwich binds the celery and onions with a traditional, light beige, corn starch thickened, gravy. Does this difference of gravy darkness represent a genuine, regional split?

Clam. HG does love that briny bivalve. The love affair began decades ago at the Harbor Rest fast food and sea food joint on Jamaica Bay in New York’s Rockaway Park — at the time, the proletarian Hamptons. HG, 13-years-old, was employed as an oyster and clam shucker (also a peeler and de-veiner of shrimp). HG ate a lot of clams. His mantra: One for the boss and one for me. HG’s oyster passion developed later. Boyish passions subside but not HG’s clam lust. HG ate scores at Lundy’s located at Brooklyn’s Sheepshead Bay. He downed them at Nathan’s in Coney Island; at Manhattan’s Grand Central Oyster Bar. HG refers to raw clams (cherrystones and little necks ) on the half shell. HG has always fancied clams (and oysters) unadorned. Maybe a modest squeeze of lemon. No beverage but beer. Lundy’s served its raw clams with hot, buttered, straight-from-the oven biscuits — HG never complained.

When HG lived in Colorado HG began his daily lunch at the Palm Restaurant with six little necks (some 1,500 miles from the Atlantic but surprisingly sweet and fresh…go figure). HG has never neglected cooked clams, preferably as part of Italian cuisine….clams posillipo (clam broth enriched with tomatoes); Linguini with white clam sauce; clams casino (light on the bread crumbs, heavy on the garlic, bacon strip optional). HG is not a big clam chowder fan. HG finds New England style overpowers clams and Manhattan style is simply inedible. The best is light clam chowder served at the Legal Seafood chain in New England (an excellent purveyor of clams and oysters).

A great clam dish was sauteed clam bellies at the late, great Gage & Tollner’s in Brooklyn. HG is a fan of the fried soft shell clams available a scores of New England shacks. When resident at the family beach home on Prince Edward Island, HG downs scores of steamers, cleansed in broth and dipped in Tabasco-enhanced melted butter.

As stated in a previous post, the true clam heaven was Fire Island, the magical barrier beach that stretches for miles off Long Island between Great South Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. After a day of Fire Island beach and sea fun, the HG family and friends would arm themselves with buckets and wade into the Bay. It was a clam bonanza. Following would be raw clams, clams casino and BSK’s extraordinary white clam sauce adorning bowls of linguini fini. The HG and BSK dune house overlooked the Bay and Ocean. Sunsets. Infinite whitecaps. Many martinis. Much beer and cheap, cold white wine. A jolly, sunburned time. Happy memories.

For many years HG was obsessed by the Chow Mein Sandwich. Permit HG to clarify: A Chow Mein Sandwich is a layer of crisp chow mein noodles, a large glop (heavy on the corn starch) of vegetable chow mein, a squirt of soy sauce. Served on a standard, soft hamburger roll, it is very difficult to eat. The filling has the regrettable habit of rolling down the eater’s sleeve. The only places that served this delicacy were Nathan’s Famous in Coney Island and Nathan’s Famous near Times Square (it had a run of about 10 years). Despite the consumption difficulty HG was mad about the sandwich and made many detours to Nathan’s to indulge his passion (ruining many suit sleeves in the process). Nathan’s is now franchised beyond recognition and despite existing in every major airport, ONLY the original Coney Island branch still serves the Chow Mein Sandwich. HG has moved to New Mexico.

Distance and time has cured the obsession.