[title type="h5"]Friday, July 11, 2014.
Tomas Bistro.[/title]
My first choice for dinner on a Friday night is a more or less traditional Creole-French restaurant, the kind with tablecloths, service personnel in some kind of suit, and a menu full of food that either 1) calls to mind the deliciousness of a similar dish enjoyed in the past or b) is something new that sounds terrific. The nature of my work and the requirements of dining partners don't allow this indulgence often.
But it did tonight. I have not been to either Tommy's Cuisine nor Tomas Bistro in too long. They both suit all my above preferences. And they're two blocks from the radio station. I'd eat there once a month or even more often if I could.
I have a good reason to be here tonight. A new chef took over at Tomas a few months ago, after former chef Guy Sockrider got a corporate gig. Jonah Nissenbaum installed his new menu some weeks ago, and is in full career. Time for a taste.
For the first time in my experience, Tomas Bistro's hostesses didn't seem certain that there would be room for me. But one of the servers spotted me as a regular, and he made sure a table was found. He is well versed in the new menu, too. With his advice, I construct at least three dining strategies. Guess I'll have to come back to check the others another Friday.
When Tommy Andrade discovers my presence (it didn't take him long), he told me he was in the throes of an unusually busy night, one that illustrated how the nature of his business has shifted. "It's all about private parties now," he said. He didn't seem unhappy about that. "We have three events here tonight. One of them is a big wedding reception. Tommy's Cuisine and the Wine Bar are completely booked, too, with one big party and two small ones."
Wedding reception? I didn't think that would become part of the conversation, but indeed Jude is coming to town this weekend for that very purpose. He already has the choice winnowed down to two places. But when I mention this to Tommy, he seems ready to cut the deal of a lifetime right then and there.
My son turns twenty-five this week, which is old enough to make his own decisions. I claim impotence in this matter, and tell Tommy that Jude would drop in for a look.
But my food is here. The first course is five raw oysters on their shells, with a sauce so simple and natural that I wonder why nobody thought of it before. It's caviar, bloody mary mix, and tomato water (what you have after straining out tomato seeds, gel, and meat). Great idea--although another stroke of genius would be serving the oysters on a bed of crushed ice, not rock salt.
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Crawfish popover.[/caption]
Next, a cup of turtle soup. A good one, cause for taking note. Turtle soup is becoming a rarity, now that turtle populations are under much stress. Then a popover--something wonderful that we see only very rarely in restaurants. A concoction of crawfish and cane syrup fills the hollow interior. (For those creating a mental picture, know that a popover is shaped like a big muffin, and is not the same thing as a turnover.)
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Cornish hen at Tomas Bistro.[/caption]
The waiter was wild about the Cornish hen, and I like that little chicken myself. A bell rang when the waiter said the thing had been brined in tea and rested on a layer of lentils and stock. The latter had an unexpectedly sharp flavor, as if some kind of vinegar or citrus ingredient were included. (It's a gastrique, says the chef. Bing!) In the cavity of the bird is a whole head of garlic, just as it looks in the store. (They should have exposed the cloves a little, but now I'm just gainsaying.) This was not only marvelous eating, but exactly the sort of thing I refer to Tommy and his restaurants for.
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The big ballroom at Tomas Bistro.[/caption]Tommy wouldn't let me get away without a tour of the party rooms on both sides of Tchoupitoulas Street. The band in the big back room of Tomas Bistro was doing sound checks, and the decorations were impressive. Over at Tommy's, the guests were already there, having drinks and listening to live music in Tommy's very handsome big bar.
"I'll throw in the band for your son!" says Tommy, who clearly likes the music. So do I. But talk to Jude, I tell him. I must hold back. Tommy would do the perfect party for me, but it's not my taste that has to be satisfied. That's what next generations are for. Especially the brides among them--and I haven't so much as mentioned her.
[title type="h5"]
Tomas Bistro. Warehouse District & Center City: 755 Tchoupitoulas. 504-527-0942.
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Saturday, July 12, 2014.
Black Cake. Rockin' Dopsie. [/title]
Should I skip writing about days like today? Everything about it is ordinary for a Saturday. Readers of the hundreds of past Saturday reports in this department surely know everything I'm about to say. I worked a couple of hours tweaking NOMenu.com, went out to the cleaners, the supermarket, and the drugstore. Back home to unload three hours of radio onto a suspecting audience. Then a walk with the dogs for an hour around the Cool Water Ranch. Then a shower and a nap.
Finally, the day takes an interesting turn. I drive acros the lake, listening to Garrison Keillor perform an extended forty-year-anniversary edition of "A Prairie Home Companion." Interesting program, including anecdotes about the radio show's earliest days. Even though a lot of what PHC does is a direct borrowing from radio shows ranging from The Grand Old Opry to Arthur Godfrey Time, such programs were all but extinct when Keillor created his show, which is more entertaining than most anything else on the radio.
I pick up Mary Ann at the Cheesecake Factory, where she had lunch with Mary Leigh and The Boy. "I'm getting sick of it," she says about the Cheesecake Factory, which only three weeks ago the Marys greeted with tremendous glee.
We drive to the home of Mary Ann's nephew Brian Connell, D.D.S. We were just there a couple of weeks ago to celebrate his son's first birthday, for which Mary Leigh executed one of her magnificent cakes. She baked (constructed is a more accurate word) another one for Brian. It's all black and white: today is Brian's fortieth. Now that I'm in my sixties, I find it hard to remember why the onset of the forties is so dreaded.
He is celebrating the anniversary in grand style. The current generation of Rockin' Dopsie and the Zydeco Twisters has no fewer than nine musicians on the back porch of Brian's house. He very wisely invited all of his neighbors to attend the party.
It was mostly family, though, and among them are many little kids. They remind me of our own children and their cousins, back when they all were in their single digits. Their little second cousins run around the yard incessantly, enjoying the evening as much as anyone of any age enjoys anything.
Rockin' Dopsie plays deep into the night. A member of the audience asks Dopsie whether her friend could sing a song with him. Why not, he said, and the woman gave forth very well with a song I never heard of. This inspires Mary Ann--who doesn't often encourage my own show-biz ambitions--to sneak up and ask whether I could do the same with my usual showstopper, "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." They begged off, probably to prevent Open Mike Night from infecting their great act.
