Monday, November 30, 2015.
I Can't Impress Myself. New Grandmother Comes Home.
I am determined to finish my survey of the Reveillon menus, and I almost do. I have all but a dozen menus left, but I decide to figure out a way for readers to shop all of the menus in one page. By some miracle, this takes only about an hour. It makes for a tight but successful day, with time for a half-dozen raw oysters and a great plate of red beans and rice with at the Acme.
Auditions are to be held tonight for a solo part in NPAS's Christmas concert. When conductor Alissa Rowe asked for volunteers for this, only two hands went up. So I raised mine, too. The song is "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas," which I know very well. All week long I practiced the song to the point that it began playing in the back of my head all day and night. Good thing I am home alone.
But when I get there, I am met with a different challenge. The solo part is just the opening verse of the song. It is not familiar. And there are now six people shooting for the gig, including three sopranos with operatic-quality voices and skills. I mentally concede the assignment to one of the girls. I stay anyway, to avoid sour grapes. And also because I will take any pretense to sing in public. The sopranos are all very good, as are the two bass auditioners. And somehow, I give a better reading of the four lines than I thought I could. One of the sopranos suggests that she and I sing it as a duet. I like the idea, and we try it. Alissa asks me to go on my own one more time. "That's it," she says. "It's Tom." I was the most surprised, enough to take the advice that I wasn't deep enough in the second line.
Before and after the rehearsal, I show pictures of Jackson, my week-old grandson to everyone, including people I don't know very well. He's a crowd-pleaser. Blue eyes, I am told today by Mary Ann, who reveals that she is coming in on the midnight flight from Los Angeles tonight. She is very late, but when she arrives, she finds all the cats outside. My goal was to have that living arrangement settled before she returned. The litter box has moved to the carport, and the kitties have found it. Mission accomplished!
What with all these victories, I still have the feeling I am deep in a hole and am very nervous about it. It's one of the mental changes that happen when we get older, I have been told. I think about this between Reveillon menus as I wait for Mary Ann, whose plane was delayed three and a half hours. Well, I waited until two a.m., anyway.
Tuesday, December 1, 2015.
Ends And Beginning.
Mary Ann says that she has returned from Los Angeles and her grandbaby's charms to help me celebrate a milestone. She's always great about things like that. As of today, The Food Show is the longest-running daily program in the history of New Orleans radio. Here's the whole story, which I ran in yesterday's time-machined Dining Diary:
Tuesday, December 1, 2015 Milestone In New Orleans Broadcasting.
My mother used to say that self-praise stinks. Nevertheless, I can't resist nothing this: When I signed on at WSMB to host a daily call-in talk show about food, I had misgivings. With a steady flow of freelance writing assignments, I hadn't been tied down to a regular schedule in many years, and I liked the freedom. But the money that WSMB offered me sounded good. And if the commitment became too onerous, I could always resign and go back to freelancing. This was the summer of 1988. I was thirty-seven. The woman who hired me put a twinkle in my eye. It was Mary Ann, who left the station after a couple of months. I am still there. Unbeknown to either of us, we would be married seven months later. And then we had our first child. The steady income at the radio station paid the bills. But I was pretty well locked in--not what I had in mind when I took the gig. But something in the formula worked for me and everyone else involved. And here we are, the longest-running daily program on any subject in the history of New Orleans radio--same concept, same station, same host. Twenty-seven years and five months. Making a statement like that begs for proof. But the records are few, and people who might have had a longer run aren't talking anymore. I've done a lot of research, and haven't found any shows than can top ours. Here are the previous record-holders: 1. Nut & Jeff, WSMB. March 1961-July 1988. 2. Charlie Douglas And The Road Gang, WWL. March 1971-September 1995. The show went on for another five years after Charlie retired, but with new hosts. 3. Arthur Godfrey Time, on WWL from the CBS radio network, April 1945-April 1972. 4. First News With Bob Del Giorno, WWL. He did two stints, interrupted by four years in Chicago and four more on New Orleans television. He hosted WWL's morning show from 1978 to 1985, and again 1993 to February 2012. 5. The Dawnbusters, WWL. September 1937--December 1957. This is no big deal, really. It is much easier to do something for a long time than to become the very best at it--not something I dare claim. Television guys have gone much longer than I have. Eric Paulsen has been on Channel Four continuously since 1977. Johnny Carson was on thirty years, and David Letterman thirty-three. Radio being as changeable as it is, I owe many thanks to the listeners, sponsors and programming executives who kept the show going by their patronage, and with very few changes over the decades. I mean, how long could a radio show about food last, really? Next milestone: thirty years. Two and a half years to go. Seems impossible, but that's how it felt when I first started. Mary Ann was the first caller on the radio show today. That's appropriate. We otherwise celebrated with a sub-mediocre show. I'm going to blame it on the rainy weather. Mary Ann wants to continue the occasion by having dinner. We go to Tomas Bistro, which I love, even though it may be the darkest restaurant in town. Owner Tommy Andrade is old-school. A little flashlight is needed to read about the crabmeat au gratin and the seared sea scallops with which we appetized. Then we split a red snapper with a sous-vide texture--almost spreadable--and a nicely-seasoned orange butter sauce. Excellent piece of fish. Also on the table are six lamb chops cut into two racks. MA doesn't like lamb much, but she puts most of these away. They typically undercook meats at Tomas Bistro, so I insisted on medium but still rosy in the middle. That is enough to pass MA's aversion to pink. We have a classic tarte tatin for dessert. That's the French answer to American apple pie, and not quite as good. But this one is unusual in having not only a great apple flavor but a great mouthfeel. Most tarte tatins are very dry. (They're also usually served upside down, but I have no idea what that's about.) I never saw this place as busy as it is tonight. Tommy says he's doing a tremendous amount of private dinners, sometimes in the hundreds of people. Couldn't happen to a nicer or more professional guy. (And speaking of Guy, he's on hand too: Chef Guy Sockrider, pronounced like "ghee," with a hard "g.") On my way across the Causeway, my PT Cruiser hiccupped, like a spark plug misfire, making the dashboard ding and lighting up the "check engine" light. I'm getting pretty good at diagnosing cars. My guess on this one: timing belt. Should cost about a grand.
Copyright © 2020 Nomenu. All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2020 Nomenu. All rights reserved.
