The Catskill Chronicle

By Jude Waterston

 

I met Jack when he blew into the Kettle of Fish bar where I was bartending. Right behind Jack trotted his dog Scruffy, who could not have been more aptly named. Scruffy sat next to Jack at the bar, on his  own wooden stool, and slurped at a shot glass filled with Coca Cola. The two were inseparable, except on the occasions that Jack rushed out the front door of the bar at such a manic pace that the swinging door would bang shut before Scruffy had a chance to follow. More than once I had to call Jack at his apartment around the corner to tell him to come back and retrieve the bewildered dog, stuck in the vestibule, waiting.

I had never met anyone like Jack. He was small, exuberant, and tightly wound. His entire being seemed to be bursting at the seams. His energy and enthusiasm for life were mesmerizing. His humor was quick, sly, and a little naughty. We clicked immediately, and thus began a wild, though tumultuous friendship spent traipsing around the Village in our matching black clogs, exploring everything and everyone.

Jack was a glass blower, and like everything else in his life, his finished pieces were over-the-top. He took me to the glass blowing studio in Brooklyn one evening, and I watched as he blew and manipulated molten glass until it grew into the hugest vase I had ever seen. It looked like an exploding flower. His platters were also over-sized and bursting with rich, bright colors. We made Christmas ornaments together one night and gave out the multi-hued glass spheres to everyone we knew at the Kettle of Fish.

Jack’s family was from Philadelphia. They were well off, and Jack had been brought up riding horses, traveling, and being introduced to the finer things in life, but he was no snob. He was a tremendously generous friend, treating me to unusual antique pocket knives (which I collected), and often inviting me out to dinner. He would have liked to be more than friends but a part of me feared we might combust together. He addressed me as “Ms. B.” – the “B” standing for beautiful, which was flattering, though far-fetched. One of our first meals together was at a place in Soho called the “Blue Ribbon.” Both huge seafood fans, we decided upon the three tiered shellfish tower for two. It was so tall that Jack and I, just about the same height, had to stand on tip-toe to reach the top tier of crustaceans. Jack was so excited sharing this feast with me that he was nearly beside himself, sweat pouring down his face.  He drank (and spilled) martinis, and I had Rob Roys, and we made toasts and fed each other shrimp, plump juicy oysters, chunks of lobster, and pale coral-colored scallops right out of their shells.

Another time he had a spur-of-the-moment urge for boiled lobsters. He persuaded a local Spanish restaurant on Bleecker Street to sell him some live lobsters, and we raced home to cook them in his tiny kitchen. We melted an entire stick of butter and poured it into little bowls and ate the lobsters sitting on the floor of his living room while his favorite classical album blared from the stereo. Jack was the only person I ever met who cranked the volume to the highest level when listening to the likes of Vivaldi.

All of our dining experiences were memorable events, mostly due to the fact that everything Jack did became heightened by his furious enthusiasm. It was, at times, exhausting to be his friend. The flip side of his great humor and good nature was an explosiveness that reared its ugly head more times than I care to recall. He overindulged pretty consistently in every aspect of his life.

A few years after we’d met, Jack decided to return to Philadelphia, where a friend of his owned a glass-blowing studio, and Jack could be nearby his mother with whom he shared a wonderful friendship. I will never forget the first time I met his mom, Barb. She, Jack, and I had dinner at the Derby, a famous steak house on MacDougal Street, around the corner from the Kettle of Fish bar. Unsurprisingly, she and I hit it off right away. We shared a huge order of chilled shrimp with the Derby’s homemade cocktail sauce, and Jack ordered his steak “black and blue” – seared on the outside and so rare inside that it was not fully heated through. That’s how he always ordered his meat. That night he was so overwhelmingly happy that his mother and I were meeting that he barely touched his food. He kept jumping up from the table, then returning to his seat to squeeze my knee or take another swig of vodka. My best memories of Jack are of meals we shared. Being with him always made the food taste better.

After he moved, I heard from him sporadically, then one day I got a phone call from his sister informing me that Jack had died of a drug overdose. It wasn’t unexpected news. It was, however, a tremendous disappointment to hear that this brilliantly creative man’s life was snuffed out before he had turned forty-five. I am in touch with his mother a few times a year, and we always speak wistfully of Jack and his lust for life.

After Jack’s death, Scruffy moved in with Jack’s sister. Thankfully, she and her husband and their two boys always remembered to hold the door for him. I still see that most loyal of dogs waiting on Jack. Who wouldn’t? He was larger than life; one of a kind.

Shrimp Cocktail

Serves 4 as an appetizer

This is my version of cocktail sauce. You can serve it with any chilled seafood, but I like it best with large or jumbo shrimp.

 

For the shrimp:

1 ½ pounds large or jumbo shrimp, unpeeled

Bring a large pot of salted water to the boil. Drop in the shrimp and stir once. Water will stop boiling. Remove the shrimp 1 ½ minutes later and drain well. Let cool about 10 minutes and then place them in the refrigerator for at least one hour to chill. Peel them, keeping the tail intact, and serve with cocktail sauce or serve them in the shell for quests to peel. Don’t forget a decorative little bowl for the shells.

For the cocktail sauce:

½ cup ketchup

1 tablespoon prepared horseradish

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

¼ teaspoon chili powder

A couple of shakes of hot sauce

In a small bowl, mix all of the ingredients together well. Chill until ready to serve.