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10/23/2007 Entry: "Cruising to Baltimore"

I’m in Baltimore today, although still aboard the beautiful Seabourn Pride. Yesterday our port was Philadelphia. The day before we were in Newport, Rhode Island. Tomorrow we dock in Norfolk, Virginia.

I wondered who would be interested in taking a cruise down the east coast of the U.S. Now I know. There are many Europeans aboard, and quite a few Californians. To the Californians Newport, Philly and Baltimore were quaintly old. To the Europeans they were quaintly colonial. I had to laugh to myself, however, when a woman from Palm Springs told me she was surprised at how dirty Boston was. Boston dirty? Yes, she said, there were cigarette buts between the cobble stones.

By me, as we say in quaint New York City, days at sea are the attraction of a cruise. It’s enforced relaxation in luxury. I sing for my supper on a couple of our days at sea, however. The day between Newport and Philly, I did a cooking demonstration. I cooked Lobster Newberg, a dish of old Delmonico’s, and Steak Diane, an old Café Society dish that is still made at ‘21’, and often at tableside no less. The day between Norfolk, gateway to Colonial Williamsburg and Jamestown, now celebrating the 400th year of its founding (remember, Queen Elizabeth II visited this year for the occasion), and our arrival in Charleston, South Carolina, I will be giving my slide lecture based on “New York City Food: An opinionated history with legendary recipes.”

I have given this lecture in many venues, but it is particularly appropriate on this cruise, which is billed as Colonial Harvest. New York City is unfortunately not one of the Seabourn Pride’s ports, but it certainly has played a part in the founding of America. I’m looking forward to telling all these “foreigners” about my great city and its great and diverse culinary heritage.

The Seabourn Pride is a very small ship. In fact, the company calls itself Seabourn Yachts. The capacity of the ship is only 208 passengers. On this cruise there are 188, all of us tucked into strategically mirrored suites with a sleeping area and a sitting area, a big picture window (some with balconies, too), a white marble bathroom with a bathtub and two sinks, a bar stocked with whatever wine or spirits you’ve ordered (included in the price of the cruise), fresh fruit every day, a Bose radio and CD player, a flat-panel TV, and a DVD player. There are no extra charges – alcohol and soft drinks are freely offered at every meal, and in the various lounges and bars. Tips are included. I have been on ships where they nickel and dime you to death about these things, which ruins the sense of luxury you want on a cruise. Although I am told I don’t need to, I may be spreading around some change before we leave. With the highest ratio of crew to passengers of any cruise line, there are 160 people on board to take care of us 188. We are very well cared for, and by a staff that could not be kinder, friendlier, or more competent at what they do. They hail from all over the globe – 26 countries, says our affable Norwegian captain, Erik Lund Anderssen – and to see them all working together, apparently happily, is quite thrilling, too.

I am especially enjoying the food, which is certainly the best I have had on a cruise. Chef Markus Gerber is a delightful man, too. Yesterday, he and I took 20 passengers to the Reading Terminal Market in Philadelphia for a little afternoon excursion. Chef Markus is Swiss, so he was unfamiliar with some of the products we saw in the market, like breakfast-style sausage with sage, and a local Pennsylvania specialty, scrapple. I was surprised that the Californians among us had never heard of scrapple either. I had to compare it to Spam to get the idea across. Markus bought several shopping bags full of food. I think he’ll serve some of it tonight. At the market, we carved up a few Philly cheesesteaks for everyone to taste – no one wanted to tackle a whole one himself – and bought Bassett’s ice cream, among the best American ice creams as far as I am concerned. I was disappointed that none of the Amish food stalls were open. They are the ones that add local color to a market that has become more like an international food court than a regional market. The Amish do not come to the market on Mondays, just so you’ll know if you are planning to come to Philly for a visit. I have to say, however, that Rick’s cheesesteak in the market is every bit as good as the more famous versions in South Philly, at Gino’s and Pat’s, or at Jim’s on South St. Boy, somehow over my lifetime I seem to have become a Philly cheesesteak connoisseur. Listen, its fun and delicious junk food. Put fried onions on anything and I’ll like it, even if made with cheese Whizz or some such. As I always say about Philadelphia, it has the best high culture and the best low culture.

My favorite meal on the Seabourn is lunch at the Veranda café, which is an airy, lively spot on the stern of the ship with both outdoor and indoor seating. The Veranda has a buffet of salads and cold meats and fish, hot entrees served in chafing dishes, pastas sauced at the last moment by a cook standing by, plus several main courses you can order from the kitchen, not to mention hamburgers and hot dogs grilled to order. There is also a dessert buffet, which I have tried my best to keep my hands off of. Except for one custard-filled, vanilla-iced cream puff that I popped into my mouth whole, as if it wouldn’t have any calories if I ate it surreptitiously enough, I have been successful.

Ah, my diet. I was very successful in Italy. I lost 21 ½ pounds in 11 weeks, reduced my cholesterol significantly, as well as my blood sugar and … well, my doctor says I have done very well. For some reason, I was deluded into thinking that dieting on a cruise ship would be easier than dieting in Italy. I didn’t count on the food being this good. I have to confess: I am sucker for a good tea sandwich, and tea-time scones slathered with clotted cream. Both are great on the Seabourn Pride, although I have only allowed myself a bite of scone with cream. Dinner presents other temptations, namely good wine expertly selected by sommelier Ingo. Or, on one night, it was selected by my new friend John McKenna, an Australian wine connoisseur who wanted me to taste his favorite Australian Shiraz, from Penfolds. His wife, Kay, only drinks white wine, so John needed someone to split a bottle of red. To be polite, of course I had to accept.

I am not sure what I will be doing in Baltimore today. I know I need to get off the ship and walk some. I’ve decided not to go on a planned excursion. I have the name and address of an old Jewish delicatessen I want to check out, Attman’s on Lombard St. I hear they still make great salami, salami with enough fat to render for salami and eggs. Here’s the story: While writing “Arthur Schwartz’s Jewish Home Cooking: Yiddish Recipes Revisited,” I found that these days if you don’t cook salami and eggs in a non-stick skillet, you can’t make salami and eggs. In the old days, frying the salami would give you enough fat to fry the eggs. Not now. The great Jewish comedian Alan King once asked in the title of a book of food reminiscences, “Is Salami and Eggs Better Than Sex?” The answer, Alan, is fuhgetaboutit. Kosher salami is no longer succulent. It is has gotten overly lean, like every meat in America. It is no longer good and spicy and garlicky, like the Shmulka Bernstein salami my grandfather would bring home every Friday. But we shall see about this salami at Attman’s. I’ll be reporting.