I got the call from my buddy Raymond. “Friday I’m taking you to my Eating Club for lunch. You bring the wine, I have already cleared it with the sommelier. I’ll pick you up at 12:30PM.”
“Eating Club?? I guess the slum landlord business must be good.”
This is from our latest chapter of I pick out the restaurant, and you pick up the check. It was my turn to pay… but a “club”? We had given up going to fancy shmancy places years ago when the contest of who could run up the biggest tab got boring. Since when did Ray join a club? And an eating club? Very British if you ask me. A membership in a London club for food and drink, in contrast to a membership in a country club for golf, tennis, fishing and killing animals. I didn’t know that New Haven sported an eating club; but then again, I don’t travel in those circles.
“I’m to bring the wine?” Maybe it was a club for gourmands. You know the kind… they wear brocade vests to contain their girth and they just like to eat and talk about food. Twelve courses of food, wines to match… four hours later the Maitre D’ escorts you into a mahogany paneled library filled with leather wing chairs, thick Persian carpets, huge paintings of cavalry officers in battle regalia… and all the members proceed to smoke cigars, belch and fart the rest of the day away. Great. I can’t wait. And I’m to bring the wine.
“Yes, you bring the wine… I knew you would enjoy bringing wine from your extensive cellar. And it will save you a few bob… you just have to pick up the corkage.”
A few bob? I knew it! A snotty English styled club with tasteless overpriced food. “Is it too late to change the venue?”
“Yes, I have already pre-ordered our lunch.”
That’s just ducky. It will save some time… I can get indigestion in advance. “Pre-ordered, have you? How very gourmand… give me the menu so I’ll know what to bring.”
“We’ll start with something from the raw bar, then a shellfish dish followed by a salad intermezzo, then a sausage and potato dish and something Italian for dessert.”
It sounded decent. I still can’t get over Ray joining some stuck-up eating club. I wonder if I can find a brocade vest before Friday.
The Wine…
Alright, if I am going to go thru with this… it has to be right. First, just one wine won’t do. The first course is from the raw bar… fat succulent oysters, I bet. Easy. Grand Cru Chablis. Good, I have Domaine William Fevre les Clos ’04. The wine is a monster. Chablis is one of the most misunderstood wines in America. Thank you very much Alamaden and Paul Masson for stealing a name from one of Burgundy’s finest appellations and producing wine that has absolutely zero resemblance to the authentic article. There is a depth of flavour to this wine, loaded with stony minerality that is just perfect for the briny-ness of fresh oysters.
Next, for the shellfish dish. OK… let’s stay with Burgundy; but move to the south and the Cote de Beaune. This should drink well… Colin-Deleger Puligny-Montrachet la Truffiere ’99. The wine is richly flavoured without being top heavy with the oak and buttery feel of California Chardonnay. The wine will stand up very well to a good sauce, a casserole of some type is my guess.
The salad course can stand by itself.
A sausage and potato dish? Hmmmmmm. Germany, or Alsace maybe? We’ll play for Alsace because I have nothing decent from Germany or Austria. Even though it sounds like a pedestrian dish, it’s probably going to be a show piece so we’ll go with a Grand Cru from Zind-Humbrecht. This is my favorite wine producer in the world. Incredible quality across their complete portfolio of wines. Another easy choice. Domaine Zind-Humbrecht Riesling Brand ’98. Too bad I don’t have the ’97; but we won’t be suffering with the ’98. When we open this bottle, if there is anyone in the room who knows anything about wine, their eyeballs should roll across the floor!
And now… the coup de grace. A dessert from Italy? I am going to count on something simple… as much as a wedge of Italian cheese cake would be great, I’m thinking biscotti and that makes the call Vin Santo. This should make Ray faint… Fontodi Vin Santo ’97. Fontodi’s owner/winemaker Giovanni Manetti told me that after the crush he puts some of his Sangiovese into French barriques for six years… seals the barrel, doesn’t look at it, doesn’t touch it… nothing. And then he hopes that after six years he has something! He either has something memorable… Vin Santo , or he throws it out. Nearly his entire production of Vin Santo gets consumed by his family who steal the wine from his cellar! I shouldn’t spoil Ray; but he will never be able to have a biscotti again without dipping it into a glass of Vin Santo.
Well… that should do nicely. Three wines from France, each distinctive and then a little treat from Tuscany. Raymond better put me in his will.
The Club…
Friday arrived. I put on a blazer and a tie. I took out my Brigade of Guards striped tie for the occasion. I was hoping that I was going to meet a stuffy member who was going to challenge me about wearing the regimental colours… “Do I know what I am wearing? Indeed, I do, sir! My Father was a Liaison Officer in the Brigade of Guards and saw action with Field Marshal Montgomery in defense of El Alamein!” {And oh, by the way, you can go fuck yourself}
Ray pulled up to the front of my place. “Dressed up I see.”
I put my wine caddy in the back seat of Ray’s car. “Yes. And I can see that one of us knows how to dress when dining at a club. What happened Ray… is your buttondown shirt in the wash? And where is your brocade vest?”
“It’s not that type of club.”
That was clue #1 that this was not going to be a place that I had expected. Clue #2 was when we began heading west out of New Haven. “Gee, Ray… I thought your club was going to be in some tiny street in the Yale Campus area. I even brought identification papers and letters of transit with me just in case…”
“That won’t be necessary. It looks like you brought enough wine.”
“Ray, why are we heading to the water? There is nothing down there but storage tanks and private homes in this direction.” My stomach began to crawl. “We’re in West Haven! Ray, we’re in West Haven! The only thing decent in West Haven is Jimmies of Savin Rock!”
“Bingo!”
“Don’t tell me bingo, Ray. I have this car loaded up with Grand Cru and 1er Cru wine!!”
Let me pause and bring those not familiar with New Haven area eateries up to speed. In 1925 Jimmie Gagliardi opened a road side food stand near the amusement park of Savin Rock. Their specialty was a “split hotdog”… split to improve the speed of grilling it. When I was a little kid the amusement park, with its wooden rollercoaster, log flume ride, carrousel, carnival games of chance & etc., was on its last legs. But by that time Jimmies had grown to include an “inside restaurant” to go along side it’s large take-out counter. The counter was divided into three sections… raw clam bar on the far left, grilled and fried food front and center, and soft drinks to the right. Take out meant taking the food from the counter to your parked car, and in favorable weather, on a sultry summer night, treating the hood of your car as your dinning table. You would tuck into paper plates filled with Roessler’s hotdogs (nestled in thin rolls and loaded with the fixings), plump and moist french fries (more potato than fry), fried whole belly clams, buttery lobster rolls, clams on the half shell… and everything washed down with cold white birch beer. The parking lot would be filled with folks standing by their cars talking, laughing, eating… and trying to keep the circling sea gulls at bay (if you left a plate unattended for more than a half minute, a gull would be there to share in your generosity).
Today… the amusement park is long gone, replaced by a strip mall and several high rise condos. Jimmies is no longer a walk-up, take-out, open-to-the-air stand. The “incidental” restaurant is all that exists, albeit totally rebuilt, enlarged, refurbished and gussied up. The dinning room is rather big and tasteless… but has huge picture windows that offer a great view of Long Island Sound. You can see sail boats and small motor craft tooling around… or larger vessels moving in and out of New Haven Harbor. You can even spot the Light House on the point in East Haven.
In the “old days” you didn’t get to see the water… the view being obstructed by the rock ledge (Savin Rock) that was adjacent to Jimmies. As much as I love looking at the sea, I prefer the seediness of the older Jimmies without the view of the Sound. It seemed to work — the aroma of fried foods and suntan lotion, scraps of discarded food scattered in the parking lot attracting a noisy bird community, teenagers cruising with their tops down, music playing (loud; but not by today’s standard). I’ll take that over tinted picture glass windows any day.
You can still get the signature hotdog that made the place famous. Now it’s served on cheap china. Maybe if you didn’t experience the “old”, you wouldn’t know what you’re missing. A Jimmies hotdog on china?
It’s a new world… perhaps I shouldn’t be so critical of my friend’s eating club.
The Lunch…
“Raymond… this is your eating club?”
“I like to think of it that way. How many times have we been here over the last 50 years? More than we can count! I like to think of it as my club. There are no dues, the food is reliable — you know you love it! Why don’t you relax.”
“And you ‘cleared’ it with the sommelier for me to bring my wine? This is fucking Jimmies, there is no fucking sommelier Raymond, you douche bag!”
“Take it easy. It was a slight exaggeration. Look at it this way… I am sure that the wines you brought are awesome, and besides, it will add an uplifting tone to our repast. Calm down. And why don’t you take off that ridiculous tie… we’re in Jimmies for God sakes!”
“Ridiculous? It’s the Brigade of Guards! You know that my Father served in the Guards and was wounded at Balaclava! I wear it for ceremonial purposes only.”
I was trying to decide if it would be worth breaking a bottle over Raymond’s head. But why waste Grand Cru. “I am so relieved that you pre-ordered! I wouldn’t have known what to have for lunch!”
My hopes for the first course being fat slurpy oysters were left to my dreams. We each knocked off a dozen icy little necks, though. And yes, the Fevre les Clos performed admirably. Thank God for the Kimmeridge shelf. We could have ordered some more clams and killed the bottle of Chablis… but why be greedy?
The “shellfish course” turned out to be a lobster roll. Chunks of tail and claw meat, warm and served in a butter soaked roll. We each had a glass and half of the Puligny. What a wine. A full bodied Chardonnay that packed flavour and yet had considerable elegance. Even with its lighter feel, you could easily taste the wine thru the heavier taste of the lobster roll. Ray nodded his approval.
Our “intermezzo salad” was a side of coleslaw. Very good, not too creamy. This is definitely an underrated dish at Jimmies.
The “sausage and potato” dish turned out to be a hotdog and french fries. I counseled Ray against loading up his dog with sauerkraut for fear that it would kill the Zind. He shook his head. “You’re my best friend; but don’t tell me how to eat a Jimmies hotdog!”
I reconsidered… OK, why not… a little relish, a little mustard, a good portion of ‘kraut. Perfect. I love the way a Jimmies hotdog has a crunch when you bite into it. Now a sip of Grand Cru Riesling. Unreal… the wine was pure opulence. A silk palate feel, and lush fruit flavours of pear, honey and lichee. Amazing fruit pungency, and yet dry. I don’t know how they do it! The soft fries, the hotdog with the works… a glass of Zind-Humbrecht. It doesn’t get better!
“You know, Jim… would you really have enjoyed this as much in the Union League Club?”
“I think you know the answer…” How could any place have matched the improbability of what we had just enjoyed?
When our waitress came to clear our plates, there was half a bottle left of each of the three wines. “Do you enjoy wine?” I asked.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do…”
“Wonderful. Please take these bottles and share them with the chef with our compliments.”
“Why thank you so much… she loves wine, too. By the way… that’s a great looking tie!”
“Why thank you. It’s the Brigade of Guards. My Father was in the Guards with Chinese Gordon when Khartoum fell. He was awarded the Order of Locks for Uncommon Bravery in the Face of the Enemy.”
“Wow! Can I get you some dessert?”
Ray looked at me and just shook his head. When the waitress left, he said “I have some biscotti in the car. I always keep a few in the glove compartment. In case of emergency, you understand.”
“Ever the boy scout! Well… let’s pinch these wine glasses and take in a bit of sea air. I have a little Vin Santo that is begging for a biscotti!”
“That should do nicely. Your Father? With Chinese Gordon at Khartoum? The Order of Lox?”
“It was a slight exaggeration.”