MY MUSE BOX - Elaine, Stuffed Mushrooms & Norman Mailer

A friend of mine recently came back from a trip to New York and, over lunch, we played “best memories” of Manhattan and one of mine was ‘hanging’ at Elaine’s.

 Elaine Kaufman, one of the great New York saloon keepers, died last year and recently her famous ‘saloon’ poured its last drink.  No one, IMO, except Vincent Sardi and Toots Shor could match her presence as she presided over her establishment appropriately named Elaine’s. Standing at the end of the long mahogany bar tallying up patrons’ bills without an adding machine which often did not match the prices of anything consumed by the patrons, or table-hopping to chat with favored diners, she was a force. 

 I started going to Elaine’s when I was married to my first husband (hereinafter referred to as “the ex”)…  He was a slick, Nicky Arnstein-type, rock/nightclub performers’ agent who loved to gamble and fly down to the Caribbean or Miami to work on his tan (though he looked more like Omar Sharif, than Arnstein, thank god).  He was a Bronx boy who grew up playing schoolyard basketball and dreaming of the high life in Manhattan.  Elaine was a Bronx girl w/ a little Queens thrown in with her own dreams of life in Manhattan and, though her first loves were writers and journalists, she adored ‘the ex.’  In fact, she loved most men.  Women?  Not so much.  But she liked me well enough, even though she never bothered to learn my name, because I came with ‘the ex.’

 When ‘the ex’ officially became ‘the ex,’ dinners at Elaine’s seemed to be over for me.  I was a fledgling writer making ends meet working at ICM as an ‘agent-in-training’ - no Dorothy Parker by any means, though Elaine’s was my era’s Algonquin Round Table.  But during my short marriage, I had made friends with a few ‘favored’ by Elaine so I got to go now and again.  Each time Elaine quietly tolerated me because of the guy I was with.  I didn’t care.  I was ‘famous adjacent’ sitting at a table near Woody & Mia or the always elegant George Plimpton or Jules Feiffer or Gay Talese or near the wall phone where I would overhear one of her ‘guys’ call his bookie to bet on the Knicks (pre-cell phones)… or see who would come out of the bathrooms next with powder on their noses … and I don’t mean the Max Factor kind (it was the late 70’s/early 80’s after all).

 But it wasn’t until I became BFF with another junior ICM agent who also was a ‘regular’ at Elaine’s because of her husband – that I became a ‘regular’ again (sort of).  When she joined me in ‘singlehood’ – Elaine took her under her wing and she became the first female I ever saw Elaine dote on, always giving her one of the ‘good’ tables along the right hand wall as you entered the restaurant.  We were barely out of our teens and unaccomplished at the time, but that didn’t seem to matter to Elaine (at least as far as my friend was concerned).

 So there I was, once again, eating at Elaine’s a couple of nights a week at my BFF’s table.   Sometimes it was just the two of us – other times we had dates or she would entertain a few writer clients (she’d finally been promoted to full literary agent).  Often we stayed long after closing, playing backgammon and lighting up the crinkly, wispy thin cookie wrappers from macaroons (I think they were macaroons) then watching them shoot up in the air and burn out.  I never knew when these cookies arrived at our table – but they were always there at the end of the meal.

 One night I spotted Norman Mailer with a couple of people at a table along that right hand wall just before the doorway into the “Siberia” room (reserved for those in disfavor or people Elaine didn’t know or want to know).  On the wall above Mailer was a lighted sconce which, for some reason, bothered Norman to no end.  He stood up and turned it off.  Within a nano second, Elaine materialized at his table and turned the sconce back on.  After a few friendly words Elaine returned to her post at the end of the bar and Norman again turned off the sconce.  Elaine scurried back and turned it on – Norman turned it off – Elaine turned it on… It was her restaurant, after all.  Friendly words turned to angry words, angry words turned to yelling and the yelling turned to fisticuffs (well, a little skirmish anyway) – the clash of the titans!  I was transfixed.  The next thing I knew, Elaine was shoving Mailer out of the restaurant.  And this was a guy who once took up boxing.  Score a TKO for Elaine!

 I miss those days in New York – the energy, the political discussions, the celebrations when a writer had a book published or a play opening or a breaking story… but what I miss most were her fantastic stuffed mushrooms overflowing with so much bubbly, melted cheese you could hardly find the mushroom.

 Many of her obituaries told stories about Elaine often feeding ‘her’ writers who were down on their luck – even running a tab for them for years – at the same time dismissing her food.   I had to laugh at the online remarks at the time of her death that bitched about this entrée or that appetizer - wanting to know why Elaine’s was so feted when the food was so bad.   Frankly, they just didn’t get it… Elaine’s was never about the food.  It was a sense of place!  A clubhouse!  Sardi’s was never about the food, either.  Neither was the Algonquin or Toots Shor’s… they were watering holes for friends, not a place for foodies.  But, like Toots and Sardi’s, Elaine’s best entrees were simple steaks and chops --‘saloon’ food -- and not the Italian food featured on the menu.  So being a meat eater, that was fine dining for me… and, IMO, she had the best veal chop in town.  But nothing  back in the day could top her stuffed mushrooms. 

 I was addicted to them.  Another ‘favored’ friend of Elaine’s was fashion photographer turned film director, Jerry Schatzberg.  After the ‘ex’ went AWOL, Jerry took me under his wing and we often ate at Elaine’s.  One night at dinner, I astounded him when I ordered those “dripping with melted gruyere mushrooms” for an appetizer, a main course and, again for dessert.  What can I say?  I love cheese that bubbles and stretches like a rubber band when you fork it into you mouth. 

 To appease this yearning during the many years we’ve lived in LA, my ‘new’ husband found a recipe for stuffed mushrooms that almost takes the place of the ones I still dream about from Elaine’s.

 So, if you’re into mushrooms and melted cheese, you have to bite into these... even if you’ve never set foot in Elaine’s.

MUSHROOMS STUFFED w/WALNUTS & CHEESE

(from the Silver Palate cookbook)

Ingredients:

12 medium-size mushroom caps

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 tablespoon sweet butter

½ cup finely chopped onion

1 garlic clove, peeled and minced

5 ounces frozen chopped spinach, thoroughly defrosted & squeezed dry

1 ounce feta cheese, crumbled

1 ounce Gruyere cheese, crumbled

2 tablespoons minced fresh dill

salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Directions:

 Remove stems from mushrooms and save for another use.  Wipe the mushroom caps w/ a damp cloth or paper towel and set aside.

 Heat olive oil and butter together in a small skillet.  Add the onion and cook over medium heat, covered, until tender and lightly colored, about 25 minutes.

 Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

 Add walnuts and garlic to onion and cook for another minute.  Add spinach and cook for another 5 minutes, stirring constantly.  Remove from heat and cool slightly.  Stir in cheeses, dill, and salt and pepper to taste.

 Arrange the mushrooms, cavity side up, in a baking dish.  Divide the spinach and walnut mixture evenly among the mushroom caps.

 Set baking dish in the upper third of the oven.  Bake for 8 to 10 minutes, or until filling is browned and the mushrooms are thoroughly heated through.  Serve immediately.

 12 mushrooms, 3 or 4 portions