HUNGRY GERALD

SJ, in his role as the head of Deadly Dragon Sound System (esteemed selectors of Jamaican music) entertained a crowd last week gathered at Caracas Arepa Bar located at Seaside Avenue (103rd Street) and the Rockaway Beach Boardwalk; it was once the home of Sligo Tavern and other raucous Irish entertainment venues. SJ reported that while many repairs are still needed, Rockaway was full of life and strongly recovering after the Hurricane Sandy devastation. Brought back memories of HG’s teenage days at that proletarian playground. At various times during the summer, HG’s boy and girl pals would have a night time beach party on the Rockaway sands. Communal blankets were brought to the beach. If a couple who were “going together” brought their own blanket it was a tip-off that they would wander away from the group for some serious intimacy. A bonfire was built and hot dogs and marshmallows were toasted in the flames. Much beer was drunk. In those days underage youngsters could easily purchase beer. One night, HG’s buddy, Larry M., brought a bottle of vodka. Mixed it with grapefruit juice, it proved potent. Larry M. had an interesting career. Unlike most of us, Larry did not go to college but pursued a profitable career as a marijuana dealer. After some years, he abandoned illegal activity and became a very wealthy shopping center developer and Democratic party fund raiser. An ironic note: His close friend, Willie, became a New York City policeman and was shot to death in a West Side hotel during a drug arrest.

Finally tried the ramen bar at the newly opened Talin in Santa Fe. Talin is an international food market (it has been operating in Albuquerque for a number of years). You customize your ramen at the bar. Choice of a number of broths and noodles (traditional, wheat, rice, etc.). Choose additions (pork, egg, fish cakes, scallions, etc.). HG had a vast bowl or pork bone broth with traditional noodles, a semi poached egg, generous slices of pork. Side dish of good, spicy kimchi. A very comforting meal. SJ, a fastidious critic, analyst and consumer of ramen, would probably sneer. (SJ’s Note: Hmmmm…I bite my tongue!)

SJ here. For the past year I gazed with a certain hesitant lust at Brooklyn Crab. As it was being built (and looking like an old-fashioned Fire Island beach house) I thought, as everyone probably did, what a smart idea! What a great view! Beer and Crabs overlooking the harbor. Pretty Simple. Pretty great! When it opened, it was immediately jam-packed — a complete and total success and I just never made it over.

This past weekend was glorious. Spring in all of Spring’s perfection — sun shining, dry breeze blowing and crisp as a freshly picked cucumber. I had friends coming and I thought how nice it would be to go to Brooklyn Crab, sit outside and take in those harbor views while drinking beer and eating crabs…And then I read the reviews. Man, Brooklyn Crab was so terribly reviewed that I almost called the whole thing off, but then I thought well, how bad could it really be? At least the beer should be cold and even eating some crappy peel and eat shrimp still seemed okay. So I geared myself up to not be upset by bad food and bad service and ended up going. After an hour-long wait (which was easy as I bought some wine at Red Hook’s great Dry Dock and took it out to the Louis Valentino Park and Pier) we were seated. The view of the harbor was brilliant and a kind of giddy, beach-side-vacationy-fun vibe suffused the whole place. It was precisely what I wanted. We ordered Maryland Crabs, some Steamers, a mixed seafood boil with shrimp, King Crab legs, corn, clams, potatos, etc and some fried shrimp. The Crabs were as good as those I had had in Baltimore and the Seafood Boil was done just right, nothing overdone and we had lots of fun and made a total mess cracking crabs and picking out the meat. Oddly the potato that was included in the Seafood boil was excellent! Perfectly cooked and infused with the Old bay seasoning and the briney flavors of the crabs and clams. The fried shrimp were mediocre and the steamers weren’t the best I ever had, but there was tons of food and between five people we managed to eat everything and really enjoy ourselves. No it wasn’t the greatest seafood meal of my life by any means, but it was totally respectable and just totally jolly. I also enjoyed what a nice cross section of Brooklyn were eating there AND working there — real Brooklyn families from Irishy looking Cop families to Asian familes from Sunset Park to Jamaican families to twenty somethings on dates and nary a hipster in sight to complain about the lack of locavore credentials. In many ways, Brooklyn Crab reminded me of the blue collar seafood spots in City Island — no pretensions at all. The prices were not cheap but they weren’t insane. And when we finished, the Manger (I’m guessing) came over and asked us how everything was. I told her we had a great time and told her that I was worried before we came because the reviews were so crappy. And she sort of said, yeah, it was a bit of a struggle last year but they were really trying to improve…and I could think was yeah, you did! So if you want to eat some crabs, drink some cold beers and overlook perhaps the greatest urban water view outside of Istanbul, then turn away from the reviews because Brooklyn Crab hits the spot.

In the most recent New Yorker Magazine, there is a beautiful, heartbreaking piece by the late Joseph Mitchell (1908-1996) entitled: “Street Life: Becoming Part of the City.” In a brief introduction, the New Yorker states: “What follows here is the initial chapter of a planned memoir that Mitchell started in the late sixties and early seventies but, as with other writings after 1964, never completed.” From 1964 to 1996, Mitchell went to his New Yorker office every day but never published a word. Street Life proves once more that nobody wrote about New York City, its places and people, with Mitchell’s eloquence, grace and sensitivity. It is heartbreaking for lovers of the New York City and journalism (a type of journalism that can only be described with the adjectives: literary and poetic) that Mitchell did not publish for 32 years. If you haven’t read Mitchell, check out Amazon for his books (collections of his New Yorker articles). You will be rewarded. Mitchell wrote wonderfully about food — namely seafood (though he did the definitive article on a gluttonous old New York event called a “Beefsteak”). Mitchell loved the Fulton Fish Market, its Sloppy Louie’s Restaurant and its unique raffishness. One of his composite characters, Old Mr. Flood. describes himself as a seafoodetarian. While Mitchell was the Poet Laureate of the Fulton Fish Market, another New Yorker writer, the lamentably short lived John McNulty (1896-1956), was the Poet Laureate of Third Avenue (the Third Avenue which had an El rumbling overhead; the Avenue which was lined with Irish saloons and Jewish pawn shops). Nobody ever wrote better about ordinary New Yorkers, horseplayers, bar room beer drinkers, unsung laborers, office workers, news dealers, etc. James Thurber, his New Yorker colleague, said about him: “Nothing, however commonplace, that he touched remained commonplace, but was magnified and enhanced by his intense and endless fascination.” (Permit justified parental pride. The same words could be applied to SJ and the series of “Sad Chairs” photos and poetic prose SJ posts almost daily on his Sad Chairs Blog. Better than anyone, SJ evokes the bittersweet qualities of urban life. Log into http://sadchairs.tumblr.com/ to experience a very individual view of the city.)

HG will whisper the name. Full House Cafe (in New York’s Chinatown — east side of Bowery at Hester Street). SJ was tipped to the restaurant by his Chinese dentist, a bit of a health freak, who raved about the clean and hygienic food. Other than this cleanliness-obsessed gentleman, It seems only a few people know about this restaurant even though it is serving some of the most exquisite Cantonese cooking HG has ever encountered. The ground floor restaurant is decorated in Hong Kong style. Ultra-modern. Flat screen TVs. Pink neon accents. It is quiet and uncrowded (most of their business seems to be the karaoke rooms on the upper floors). HG and BSK dined there a few times and were astonished, The scallion pancakes were crispy miracles of flaky pastry and slivered scallions. The crab meat and pork soup dumplings (xio lum bao) and chive dumplings were sublime. The Ma Po Tofu was powerful, redolent of Szechuan peppercorns and hot chili oil. And, the fish dishes. Wow. Filets of fish with yellow leaks. Minced flounder on a bed of baby bok choy topped with crab roe. Wonderfully light while intense in fresh sea flavor. HG and BSK also enjoyed extraordinary pork belly and pea shoots with garlic. HG is writing all of this with reluctance. Fears crowds and popularity.

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).

Birthday dinner for SJ. Restaurateur Daughter Victoria (Five Points, Cookshop, Hundred Acres) is a long time pal of chef Jonathan Waxman (you may have seen him on TV in one of his many appearances on shows like Top Chef , etc.). So, the birthday dinner was planned for his West Village restaurant, Barbuto. Victoria’s instructions were succinct: “Feed us, Jonathan.” And, so we were fed gloriously and sumptuously. The table for six (Birthday Boy, Exquisite Maiko, HG, BSK, Victoria and Zena B.) was served family style. First course was four big platters — fried brandade cakes with aioli; Italian charcuterie with crusty bread; a wondrous shredded kale salad shot through with a tart lemon-anchovy-pecorino dressing; a citrus salad enlivened with slivers of jalapeno peppers. Chilled prosecco. Second course: Two pastas — Gemelli with broccoli di rabe and tagliatelle with a rich, shredded pork ragu. Oh, my!! Much California Jackhammer Pinot Noir. Was difficult to pace oneself appropriately and do justice to the Third Course: Monkfish in wine sauce; rare, sliced steak; Jonathan Waxman’s signature roast chicken; crisp and crusty roast potatoes. With courage, fortitude and appetite, HG sampled all. Honest, straightforward cuisine at its best. Dessert was a perfect semifreddo. Gasps of contentment. Sighs of overindulgence. Happy, happy birthday SJ. Thank you, Beautiful Zena, for making a surprise appearance. Thank you, Victoria for creating this dinner. Thank you, Jonathan, for your warm hearted hospitality.

There are some dishes that are only good at home. Potato latkes in a restaurant are terrible. Too greasy. Not crisp. And, if crisp, the interior is mushy — more like a knish than a proper latke. Balance is never achieved. HG has often sighed for the wonders achieved by HG’s Mom. Fortunately, SJ has inherited his late grandmother’s latke skills. His are flavorful delights and HG looks forward to ingesting a dozen or so during the upcoming holiday feast. Restaurant risotto doesn’t work. If it’s reheated it gets gummy. Cooking to order isn’t cost effective. The result is an inferior product, totally unlike the creamy, lush nuttiness that HG creates by constant stirring and laser-like attention. HG has had good omelettes (in Paris) but has only had a great omelette when BSK has wielded her magic skillet.

The opposite of better-at-home food is the lovely Mexican treat: the Chimichanga — or deep fried, crisp burrito. The Chimichanga is impossible to make at home as its preparation requires the wizardry of a professional kitchen and a light touch on the deep fryer. In unskilled hands, it becomes a greasy, tasteless mess. But, when a Chimichanga is good…oh yes! Well, HG is happy to report that he has found the perfect Chimichanga. El Parasol (the wonderful casual restaurant in Pojoaque, NM, often lauded by HG) provided the treat. A perfect filling of ground beef, green chiles and cheese and a crisp exterior that shattered into phyllo-like shards when pierced by a fork. The Chimichanga was served with a scoop of guacamole resting on a mound of shredded lettuce plus a few spoonfuls of sour cream. The dish was augmented by ramekins of green and red salsa. Yes, it is an infantile word but it expresses the taste: YUM!!

SJ here. My heart has been echoing with that bubbling, pitter-pat effervescence of joy that makes me want to run to the hilltops and shout out: I AM IN LOVE!!! Well, I am. Completely and totally smitten with the absolutely wonderful Court Street Grocers which opened in late 2010 and which I am just now discovering right here in my backyard of Carroll Gardens, Brooklyn (perhaps the best neighborhood in the entire universe).

Court Street Grocers is half a specialty grocer and half an über casual breakfast / sandwich spot (that also serves dinner once a week). Where much of Brooklyn’s new food culture prides itself, in both positive and negative ways, on a seriousness of intent — chefs in Abraham Lincoln beards and suspenders hand churning artisanal butter and restaurants so painstakingly dedicated to the locavore movement that they will only serve lettuce grown on the roof of their own spot — Court Street Grocers just seems to love food and have a profound joy in sharing it. Witness the grocery section: neat shelves lined with stuff that I, or my family or any of my friends would have chosen: weird mustards from West Virginia, regional hot sauces, Goldenberg’s peanut chews, jars of Brooklyn made Kim Chee, New Orleans Ice Coffee concentrates, Japanese Kewpie brand mayonnaise, Hatch Green Chili Sauce, top shelf Canned Tomatoes, great milk, NY state apples and seasonal veggies, and much much more; a high – low approach that completely won me over and had me going condiment mad like a porn maven in video shop going-out-of-business sale.

And then there are the sandwiches….It is as if the mad scientists of Court Street Grocers pinpointed the fertile imagination of the returning-home-late-at-night, semi drunken, famished chef who is only out to please his own belly. MAN!!! Let’s review the numbers I have tried: The “Little Shonda” — Dark, toasted pumpernickel bread, slathered with Durkee Famous Sandwich Sauce, softly scrambled eggs, top quality pastrami, melted swiss and pickled green tomatoes. The “Mother-in-Law” — A cibatta loaf stuffed with braised heritage beef short ribs, kim chee, roasted broccoli and lots of mayo. The “Media Noche” – Roasted Pork Shoulder, Heritage Foods Ham, Swiss Cheese, Mayo, Mustard, Gus’ Full Sour Pickles, on Brioche, which is. more or less, the greatest Cubano Sandwich I have ever tasted. And finally, a toasted cheese sandwich of Cabot Cheddar, Apple Butter on a superb 10 grain Pullman Loaf. Everything just wonderful and they have loads more sandwiches that I have not gotten around to tasting yet. And, just to rule a bit more, they also have great coffee. These sandwiches can be eaten in a plain, but perfectly comfortable, dining room or taken out. There is also a $35 prix fixe dinner that is served every Friday with 2 seatings that you have to reserve on-line. I have looked at the offerings and they seem to be as wonderful as the lunch and breakfast menus — simply put, food that you want to eat.

The owners (there are 3 of them, maybe 4?) of this wonderful establishment hang out by the cash register, seemingly the happiest group of people you can imagine. I saw one of them walking down Court Street once, simply floating with joy as every other person that walked by greeted him with words and smiles. These are people that are having fun at their jobs — they are thrilled to be part of their community, they are having a great time and they know everything about what they are selling and have definitely enjoyed it all. I am so happy that I am lucky enough to be within the sphere of Court Street Grocers and will continue to explore (and report!) on their food.

Yes, SJ, Exquisite Maiko, Haru and Teru are off to Brooklyn, leaving behind Prince Edward Island for the harsher realities of school and careers. For HG and BSK this will mean Prince Edward Island quiet and serenity, no sounds but the wind and the sea. Of course, this will mean no extraordinary cuisine from EM. No funny insights, swim companionship, beach walks, book reading and much more from Haru. No delicious cuddles and silly noise making with the enchanting six month old Teru. Tonight, SJ took over the preparation of a farewell dinner. SJ marinated some organic, free range farmers market chicken in a mixture of oil, garlic, adobo, lemon juice, salt and pepper. The chicken went on a charcoal grill and the result was crusty, spicy, juicy hunks of bird. SJ also did the best, simplest summer pasta: A host of chopped herbs from the garden — marjoram. chives, mint, parsley, thyme, rosemary,Thai basil — were mixed with ripe local tomatoes and thin slivers of garlic. These were placed on top a big bowl of artisan pasta from a local market. SJ then heated up hot olive oil (just before the burning point) and poured it (with the appropriate sizzling sounds) over the herbs, tomato and garlic mixture. The heady herbaceous aromas filled the room. Post feast, Haru manged an ice cream bar but the rest of the dinner party could only sip wine and murmur the bittersweet sighs of farewell.