Friday, February 24, 2017.
Rosedale, Part Two.
I spend most of the day in the city, killing myself in small steps with one of the apple fritters that somebody picks up at a doughnut shop every Friday. It’s time to take those off my list.
Parades are beginning to surround the radio station when I get off the radio at five. I get out of before they can get in my way, and head over to Rosedale, Susan Spicer’s semi-neighborhood-café in the southernmost tip of Lakeview. It’s early enough that the place has many empty tables. That didn’t last long, however, and by the time I was ready to go it’s nearly a full house.
A waiter with a strong sense of himself and his restaurant runs through the menu a couple of times. I am in the mood for soup. The turtle soup was great last time. A carrot soup doesn’t remind me of the similar ginger-and-carrot concoction that Mary Leigh tried in our first visit. I have it the second time, and found it way off balance in the direction of blah. I taste carrots, all right. . . but that was about it. I call for the Tabasco. They give me Crystal instead. I don’t mind that. What does disturb me is this step in the disappearance of hot sauce from New Orleans restaurant tables. Bring the hot stuff back!
The waiter weighs my thoughts about my entree choices. He says I should get the lamb meatballs. I’m more interested in the double-cut pork chops. But I’ve had such good luck over the years going with the advice of waiters that I take his.
What comes out is a large bowl of pasta with a well-constructed red sauce, the meatballs swimming beneath waves of spaghetti. This is one of those dishes that even kids love, while at the same time showing strong appeal to grownups, and even snobs like me. It’s enough for two adults, with about a half-dozen meatballs. When I give up, I still have a full serving to take home.
Chef and owner Susan Spicer is not in the house, but that doesn’t mean much. She has two other restaurants to take care of, and I talked to her about a week ago anyway. She seemed to be pleased with the way this funny old joint–formerly a police station, complete with a jail cell–has been absorbed by the neighborhood.
Rosedale. Lakeview: 801 Rosedale. 504-309-9595.