Friday, August 31, 2012.
Acting As If Nothing Happened. Manale's. Darkness.
As far as my family and business went concerned, Hurricane Isaac was over. It was like what you're supposed to do in the event of a loss of cabin pressure in an airplane. You put on your oxygen mask first so you will then be able to help others. The lucky ones in our position must carry on. That way, we pull everybody who's struggling back up to normal.
The free time of the past couple of power-out days--no newsletter, no radio show--allowed me to finish today's edition and head into town before noon. I called Harold Klein to find that he was also back to normal and cutting hair at the Royal Orleans. I am way, way overdue for a trim. So we got that mess fixed.
Most French Quarter restaurants opened for business last night. I thought I'd have lunch someplace good while I was there, but I didn't have time. I walked around looking for a short-order solution, but nothing appealing turned up. Johnny's Po-Boys was closed, and I couldn't find the French Quarter Camellia Grill. (I later learned that I'd walked in front of it three times. I clearly have it mislocated on my mental map.)
As for the rest of the Vieux Carre business community, everything was rolling--antique shops, art galleries, tourist restaurants, the works.
I was more warmly welcomed back at the radio station than I expected, given that I had not participated much in the wall-to-wall storm coverage. But then Diane Newman asked me to do a storm show on Sunday. No food, unless a caller brings it up. Can do. My first such assignment was for Hurricane Frederic in 1978. So I'll get my licks in, and give the stalwarts get some time off.
Sandy DeFelice called during today's Food Show. Sandy and his brothers Bob and Mark are the current generation of owners at Pascal's Manale, which turns a hundred next year. Sandy wanted the word out that Manale's was open, with oysters every which way, veal, pasta, seafood, and the original barbecue shrimp.
He sold me on the idea, although not until a roll up St. Charles Avenue revealed that almost every business was closed up to Napoleon. It was easy to see why. I saw more huge trees down than I would have guessed. Manale's was on the downtown fringe of the powered section, so their opening was lucky.
When I stepped up to get my name on the list (people were waiting for tables), I encountered Mark DeFelice, the chef among the brothers. When he saw me he pulled away from a conversation he was having with some guys at the bar, and said in a strident tone that took me aback, "I want to talk to you! You keep saying that our red sauce isn't any good, and I don't think you've even tried it in twenty years!"
I disputed that estimate, but admitted it had been awhile. I would definitely have a red-sauce dish tonight, I told him. He asked if I minded his joining me, because he was about finished for the day and ready for a cocktail. So was I.
We started where we always do. Mark's oldest daughter is almost exactly the same age as Jude. So how's yours? Fine, yours? His two younger daughters are working in the restaurant. So are a couple of brother Bob's sons. What did I think would be a good plan for the ones who want to stay in the business? Culinary school? Maybe, but how about packing them off for a year in Italy and France, working around and finding out how it's done in other great food places?
We started with my three favorite dishes at Manale's: oysters Bienville, oysters Rockefeller, and the combination pan roast. The latter is an utterly unique dish made with oysters, crabmeat, and shrimp in a bechamel with green onions, topped with a thin bread-crumb layer and baked until bubbly. Rich--too much to make an entree out of it, although they offer that option--but very good.
Now some paneed veal with the house's basic red sauce. I was happy to see that it was thicker and more interesting than I remember, although not what I'd call complex. I see they're still not tossing the pasta in the sauce, though. Then shrimp diablo, made with what Mark called the Manale marinara sauce. This one was chunky with tomatoes and had a lot more going on, particularly in the way of red pepper. The dish falls exactly on the line separating classic Italian shrimp fra diavolo and New Orleans shrimp Creole. But splitting that difference is what Manale's has always been about.
Mark let loose the fact that they had retooled both of these sauces during the past year. I didn't say that he finally must have listened to me, because I doubt that was the motivation.
Bread pudding, loaded with raisins as usual. I view that as a plus.
Manale's dining room was filled with highly recognizable regulars. Certified gourmets Carolise and Irv Rosen were at the next table, very happy to be. Prominent businessman John Laborde headed a big table. And federal Judge Martin Feldman. He said hello to me first, which gave me an opportunity to tell him something I've wanted to since 1975. He wrote a letter then objecting to an article in New Orleans Magazine, of which I was editor at the time. I wanted to say that he was absolutely right, and that I apologized for the offense. He laughed and said he didn't remember the matter, and that I could now forget about it too.
Also at the judge's table was attorney Greg Grimsal. A glimmer of recognition flashed in my mind. Grimsal. Hey! You and I were in the same class at Rummel! No, we weren't, he said. Yes, you were. You were the class president. One of the top students, as I remember. Oh, now I remember you, he said. Then he recalled one of those weird teenage embarrassments we all carry, and which our high school classmates never forget, no matter what we have achieved since. He got me good.
I drove home by way of Broadmoor, picking up the I-10 at Carrollton. When we crossed the Gentilly Ridge, I saw something I had not seen in years, but which I remember all too vividly. The power was still out there, and the highway was in darkness. Unlike after Katrina, the gloom persisted in Metairie. At the brilliant intersection of I-10, Veterans, and Causeway, almost everything was out, including all the gas stations and Lakeside Mall. Creepy!
Pascal's Manale. Uptown: 1838 Napoleon Ave. 504-895-4877.
It's over three years since a day was missed in the Dining Diary. To browse through all of the entries since 2008, go here.
