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Wednesday, October 15, 2014.
Home. Trouble. An Indelicate Delicacy.[/title]
Even though I've broadcast from home two or three days a week for twenty years (what a reliable piece of equipment that gadget has been!), problems occasionally crop up. Today, for example, we were twenty-five minutes late getting on the air--a mortal sin in broadcasting. I was relieved (sort of) to learn that it had nothing to do with me. A scheduling snafu had nobody at the controls in the studio. Oh, well. The first hour of the show is weak anyway. Most of my listeners are actually eating lunch instead of listening to me suggest what they might have for that meal.
Mary Ann finds that something in the mail she thought was a solicitation from the St. Tammany Parish government was in fact a summons to me for jury duty in two weeks. This is the first time I've been called in ten years, and my third recruitment since we moved to the North Shore. At that pace, this will be my last time to be pressed into jury service. After seventy, one is finished unless one wants to serve.
Of course, this will throw a monkey wrench into my other activities. A remote broadcast planned for the big food show at the Convention Center will have to get along without me. The daily radio show itself will need patching. There is no time for me to pre-record even the commercials, let alone the whole show. Most frustrating of all, when I am interviewed in the voir dire process, when it comes out that I'm an active member of the news media I am instantly rejected. The only time I actually served on a jury was in 1974, when I was unknown. But there's no getting around my having to hang around the courthouse waiting for the call. I view it as my duty as a citizen. But. . .
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Chicken with two sauces and pasta.[/caption]
The Marys and I have dinner at New Orleans Food and Spirits. It occurs to me that today is the day for a superlative special: panneed chicken atop angel hair pasta with both red and white sauces. As prosaic as that sounds, this is an incredibly fine version of the dish. Despite the overabundant portions, it's hard to stop eating. And the price--$13, including the salad--is one of the best bargains on the North Shore.
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[title type="h5"]Thursday, October 16, 2014.
Little Chinatown.[/title]
I knew I would get some laughs today when I told why I went to the hospital: because I had a really bad zit. I checked in with Dr. Bob, who agreed that it was nasty enough to require antibiotics. I won't gross you out any further, but wrap up this micro-episode by saying that, as of this writing, it's all better.
Something good came of this. Dr. Bob called me later to say that he was organizing a wine-tasting dinner at the Windsor Court next week, and if I wanted to join the small group I would be welcome. One little detail: every participant must bring a first-growth Bordeaux wine. I think--but am not sure--that I have one in my wine pile, and I accept gladly with my fingers crossed.
Since I was in Kenner, I have an early supper at the Little Chinatown, a restaurant that has excited everyone I've spoken with who's been there. It's what inevitably is called an "authentic" Chinese kitchen, meaning that there are many dishes available that may require either a willingness to try new flavors or a childhood in China. I dined there a couple of years ago, ordered a dish for the latter demographic, and left less than happy.
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Hot and sour soup.[/caption]
Today I do not make such a mistake. The waitress is bilingual (at least), and gives me lots of good advice before I order. Even though the menu has many offbeat, highly ethnic soups, she steers me to the standard hot and sour soup, which she said was as good as any she'd ever had.
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Chicken with chili peppers and vegetables.[/caption]
Then she turns me on to one of the daily specials, made with chicken, vegetables, and a scattering of hot, fresh peppers. I assure her that high pepper levels are desirable for me, and to tell the chef to do it his way. Both the soup and the chicken are superb, even though the chicken is cut in such a way that a slice of bone comes with every bite. I get more accustomed to this every time I try an advanced, non-Americanized Chinese place.
I have enough info to prepare a full review of the Little Chinatown, which I will publish in tomorrow's edition. [divider type=""]
