HUNGRY GERALD

Daffodils. Tulips. Forsythia. Hyacinths. Greening grass. Budding trees. Green willow fronds. Spring is upon us here in New Mexico and it’s Row-Zay time. Yes, it’s time to sit outdoors beneath brilliant blue skies and drink lots of friendly rose wine. Hey, that’s what they do in Spain and HG enjoys paying homage (if it involves drinking and eating) to New Mexico’s Hispanic heritage. Ancona almonds. Kalamata olives. Piquillo peppers. Anchovies. Thin slices of a ciabatta loaf. These are nice accompaniments. French Tavel is HG’s favorite rose but it has become too pricey for everyday drinking. HG makes out just fine with six bucks-a-bottle La Ferme Julien (French) and Albero (Spanish). California’s despicable White Zinfandel has given rose a bad rep. Ignore it. Buy HG recommended roses and have lots of fun in the sun.

HG and BSK’s favorite luncheon restaurant is The Compound on Santa Fe’s gallery lined Canyon Road. The Compound is a lovely place. White washed adobe walls and beamed ceilings. A few select works of Native American and Hispanic art. Best of all is the New Mexico light — most artfully represented in the paintings of Georgia O’Keefe — that pours into the room. The lunch menu is small but choice: A “Stacked Salad” with butter lettuce, ham, avocado, tomatoes, cheese, hard boiled egg, bacon, blue cheese dressing — basically a riff on Cobb Salad; a house smoked pastrami sandwich; a lobster and crab salad; a lunch-sized steak; a burger with poblano peppers. All good but the star is the chicken schnitzel. The chef gently flattens a generous chicken breast (still a bit thick, not a paillard). Then the chicken is given the traditional Viennese Veal Schnitzel treatment of breading and frying to greaseless crispiness. It is topped with a sauce of wine, butter (maybe a hint of cream), parsley and an abundance of capers. Flanked with a mound of sauteed leaf spinach. HG accompanied the dish with a nice flute of Gruet sparkling white from New Mexico. In HG’s opinion, the Gruet is better than champagne or prosecco.

HG has long dismissed the chicken breast finding it dry and tasteless. Not The Compound chicken breast. Don’t know the secret. Brining, perhaps?

Great fun last night Chez HG/BSK. Two Colorado friends came to dinner bearing (as is their happy custom) two bottles of splendid Pinot Noir. Meal started with sliced Kumato Tomatoes and a heavenly Burrata (a mozzarella filled with cream). Washed it down with chilled Italian Lambrusco (slightly sweet, semi-sparkling red). Then the meal got serious. Brisket time. BSK had consulted our pal Stevie Pierson’s invaluable new book: The Brisket Book: A Love Story With Recipes. (Run, don’t walk, and go buy it immediately so you will be a culinary hero just in time for Passover!). BSK selected cookbook author Joan Nathan’s brisket recipe (pg. 105), a classic Jewish recipe. Three hours in the oven. A nice rest to let things cool down (and skim off the fat). A half hour of reheating. The result: Tender, juicy meat filled with flavor (from onions,garlic,wine, etc.). The abundant robust sauce was a killer. BSK flanked the meat and sauce with smashed (not mashed or pureed) potatoes. BSK’s touch is to smash the spuds with free range chicken broth and very good olive oil. There was a refreshing salad of sliced fennel and radishes, hearts of palm and Italian parsley. A bottle of old vine Zinfandel made an appearance after the Pinots were demolished. A bottle of fruity Malbec was opened to accompany dessert (Yes, five bottles of wine for four persons and one drank very moderately so HG had a lot of ground to cover). The dessert: Trader Joe’s New York Deli Cheese Cake. A nice surprise. Real Big Apple Taste. Encore tonight since (Oh,Joy!!) there were plenty of brisket and sauce left overs. Noodles will replace the spuds (all devoured).

Paris. Autumn of 1966. HG and BSK’s first trip to Paris. Trip was paid for by an American surveillance equipment firm (an HG pubic relations client). HG was in Paris to meet with important French electronics company which was the European and African distributor of the equipment. So, while BSK strolled the boulevards with two-year-old daughter Lesley, BSK met with the partners in the French firm — a tall, suave Frenchman (sales and marketing) and a short, tough Jew (technical and manufacturing). The French guy took HG to a nearby bistro in the Bastille arrondissement.

“I know you Americans like a cocktail to start and Jackie, the barman here, is famous for dry martinis,” he said. Thus, HG had a huge (served in a chilled ballon) excellent martini. Sensible French guy had a small Kir. Then followed: Parma ham with ripe melon accompanied by Macon-Villages Chardonnay. Quenelles in a sauce Nantua (small helpings) and some glasses of Chablis. A braised daube of beef and carrots in a powerful wine sauce. Accompanying wine was Morgon. A wedge of ripe camembert and a glass of Pommard. Creme brulee. A few shots of fiery marc. Cafe. A tidy lunch. Back to the office.

While the Frenchman responded to a phone call, HG — overpowered by lunch — fell fast asleep. To the amusement of the staff, HG was revived with an ice pack. The business meeting was interrupted later by the arrival of the most dangerous man HG had ever seen. French. Six feet. Some 190 pounds of muscle, Shaven head. Face carved out of rock. Deep scar down cheek from eye to lips. Black suit. Black turtle neck sweater. He and the small Jew greeted each other with wild laughter and hugs. Hadn’t seen each other in 20 years. Turned out small Jew was a Resistance leader and Very Tough Guy was directed to his group.

Very Tough Guy explained, pointing to small Jew: “He was suspicious. Thought I could be a rat. Shoved a gun in my mouth. I had to open wide or I would have lost teeth. Asked questions. I nodded yes or no. He was satisfied. We had good group. Killed a lot of Nazis. And, Vichy scum.”

Very Tough Guy was in Paris to buy surveillance equipment. He was the security consultant to a number of small, independent African republics. Small Jew confided in me: “Probably has a few sidelines that aren’t strictly kosher. He had been a very bad boy in Paris before the war. But, was my very good, brave comrade during serious times,”

HG’s usual beverage with Chinese food is beer (sometimes mixed with Guiness Stout for a Black-and Tan). Never found an agreeable wine that enhanced Chinatown cuisine. Until…

At the feast HG recently enjoyed at Congee on the Bowery, Restaurateur Daughter Vicki F. brought two wines that added a new, positive dimension to the meal. Wine One: Sauvignon Blanc. Box O’ Birds, Marlborough, New Zealand 2011. Wine Two: Riesling, Thirsty Owl, Finger Lakes, N.Y. 2009. Super yummy. Would go nicely with Indian food, HG believes.

Zena Burns, the beauty and high powered radio and internet biggie, came to dinner (accompanied by her pal, Valerie, also a remarkable lady). The astonishing duo brought a bottle of Stags’ Leap 2008 Merlot. This is one of HG’s favorite wines, smooth and rich. Zena’s smile and laughter enhance any dinner. And, of course, a Stags’ Leap goodie is a nice companion. HG mused that Merlot has become an unappreciated wine. That’s because the vintage was so attacked in Sideways, a funny and wistful movie set in California wine country. Why take the advice of a movie character when it comes to wine?

A respite for Gifted Daughter LR and Profesore/Dottore MR. These busy professionals never have time for restaurant lunches. HG (resident in landlocked Santa Fe) often dreams about freshly shucked oysters and clams freshly dug from the seashore. The solution: Monday lunch at Hemenway’s, a bright, lively restaurant overlooking the river in downtown Providence. A few dozen oysters (from the shores of Rhode Island, Connecticut, Long island and Rhode Island). A few dozen little neck clams from Rhode Island (known as Quahogs in New England). All sparkling with freshness and full of briny flavors. Then a lobster salad with big chunks of juicy Maine lobster. A platter of fried squid with hot peppers (a Rhode Island specialty).

With sun pouring through big windows and a reasonable amount of Murphy-Goode Fume Blanc being poured, this was memorable New England dining.

For your illumination and enhancement HG provides you with a list of books by Peter Hellman:

(1) Chief!: These are case histories from the files of Al Seedman, former New York Chief of Detectives. Forget TV nonsense. This is the way detectives really work. 

(2) Avenue of the Righteous (Later re-issued and expanded as When Courage Was Stronger Than Fear ): This is a book to read when your opinion of the human race is at a low point. These are the astonishing stories of Christians who, at great risk to their lives, saved Jews during World War Two.

(3) The Auschwitz Album: Lest we forget, this is a rending book — 187 photos of Auschwitz with text by Hellman.

(4) American Wine Handbook: A book that tells you what you need to know if you want to drink great American wines.

(5) Heroes. Tales From the Israeli Wars: Exciting accounts of combat and heroism.

(6) Shaping the Skyline : The story of real estate visionary Julien J. Studley.

Now search for them on Amazon.com and thank me later.

A life enhancing, talented and fun loving quartet has been visiting HG and BSK. Here’s the cast: Donald K. and Bruce M., HG’s and BSK’s former business colleagues. Donald K’s wife, Susan, a former investment banker and Bruce M.’s companion, Theresa T., former senior executive at Ralph Lauren and Martha Stewart. These are folks who know and enjoy food and wine. So, what was on the table? Friday night there was a platter of Middle Eastern appetizers and then a Mariscada (Spanish seafood stew) of mussels, shrimp, scallops, much garlic and parsley cooked in fish stock, white wine and the juice from canned asparagus — a surprising secret ingredient gleaned from New York’s El Charro. Washed it down with glasses of Rose, Pinot Grigio and Barbera.

Light salad lunch on Saturday at Santa Fe’s Santacafe. Dinner was a feast at the much posted about “O” — Eating House. Appetizers of fried zucchini and home-made mozzarella with the first stewed cherries of the season; chorizo and roasted garlic; chunks of unusually spiced corn on the cob. Mini portions of strozzapreti (a name which translates to priest stranglers) in a beef cheeks sauce. Main dishes of duck confit and grilled quail accompanied by a sweet corn risotto. Dessert: bread pudding and creme brulee. Much Champagne, San Giovese, Malbec and Chianti flowed (possibly too much flowed in HG’s direction).

Brunch the next day on the sunny terrace featured BSK’s egg and cheese casserole. Farewell dinner tonight at Gabriel’s. Margaritas. Guacamole (best in New Mexico). Fajitas. Charro beans. Sopapillas. Sangria. Flan. Ole!!! And then, sadly, adios.Photo Courtesy of Steven Nereo

If you drink wine (and if you read HG, of course you do) don’t miss Peter Hellman’s article “Wine–It’s All In Your Head” in the May 15th New York Post. Hellman does an analysis of our fine wine culture (taste surveys, expert opinions, etc.) and comes up with the conclusion that cheaper wine is often preferable to higher priced quaffs. It all depends on context — where you are drinking, what you are eating; even who your company is.

HG has long felt that his wine palate rules and is not influenced by price, reputation or the opinion of an overbearing sommelier. During these lovely springtime New Mexico days, HG begins drinking Le Ferme Julien Rose at sunset and continues until the first star appears. Then HG makes the transition to a robust red. La Ferme Julien Rose is a blend of Cinsault (50%), Grenache (40%) and Syrah (10%). HG likes it better than Tavel or any of the pricier Roses from Provence and Spain. The Perrin family blends the wine from grapes grown on Mont Vertoux in the Rhone Valley of France. Six bucks a bottle and a true delight.

Talking of delights, check Peter Hellman’s books on Amazon.com. He has written informatively, passionately and brilliantly on everything from The Holocaust, the trials and triumphs of Israel, real estate, crime, music, finance, food,design, etc. Look for his wine articles in The Wine Spectator and Wall Street Journal. A toast to you, Peter, of modestly priced wine,of course.