[title type="h5"]Monday, February 23, 2015.
Habaneros. Off To Germany?[/title]
The Marys and I lunch at Habaneros, the new Mexican place in Covington. It's as hip as a North Shore restaurant can be, to the point of offering menudo--the famous Mexican tripe soup. That's a weekend special. But where, on the rest of the lineup of weekly specials, is molé poblano? There seems to be some force that keeps restaurants from serving the stuff. Even these otherwise adventuresome Habaneros guys draw the line at molé.
To those who came in late: molé is a dark-brown, thick sauce made with chile peppers, sesame, and bittersweet chocolate, and the signature dish of Puebla and Oaxaca. I think it's second only to bearnaise as the world's most delicious sauce. I will ask Omar Lugo--the owner of Habaneros, and a guest on the radio show tomorrow--what the holdback is.
We begin the meal with guacamole, chorizo with queso, just plain queso, and a bowl of chicken-tortilla soup. Then we split a Mexican dish none of us ever tired before--probably because it hits too close to home.
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Torta at Habaneros, filled with pork pibil.[/caption]
A torta can be very accurately called a Mexican poor boy sandwich. The bread is only a little different from New Orleans French bread, and some of the fillings are very close to roast beef and the like. A torta comes with that great Mexican side dish: French fries.
What grabs me about this is that one of the torta meat choices is pibil--the Yucatan-style roasted pork, red with the seasonings plied into it. That is delicious, even though it had more of a local flavor than one from south of the border.
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Steak tacos at Habaneros.[/caption]
The Marys each have tacos, in two different styles. The steak in green, herbal soft tortillas is the better of the two. I bring the lunch to a close with a well-made flan, the only dessert in the house.
The Marys say that this is a going-away meal. Mary Ann is hell-bent on visiting Germany while it's still cold, wet and gloomy, because she wants to cogitate upon the Berlin Wall and what it means in history. She and ML are trying to leave for Der Deutschland tomorrow.
I know this is serious, because she is treating me unusually well lately. That effect always precedes a major trip. But I have a feeling it may cool shortly. She barely has enough time to fit the itinerary she has in mind (it also includes Prague) before my medical appointment two weeks from today. We learn that someone else must drive me home, and that it can't be a taxi.
But the weather looks terrible, especially along the East Coast. She is trying to book this trip with buddy passes. She has no firm reservations for anything. She finds this thrilling. I'm glad I won't be on the trip myself.
At the NPAS rehearsal tonight, I find myself one of only two second tenors. We are heavily involved in learning some parts of Carmina Burana. Fortunately, the other guy has far greater skills than I do, and we sound reasonably decent. Except for the parts in which I am singing well off the notes, the rhythms, or both. Fortunately, there seems to be an unwritten rule among conductors of amateur singers: the conductor never comes right out and says that one has botched up one's part.
[title type="h5"]Habaneros. Covington: 69305 LA Hwy 21. 985-871-8760. [/title]
