Sunday, January 28, 2018. An adventuresome day. Not only do I sing at the ten o'clock Mass at St. Jane's, but this week and next I am the cantor. It's the first time ever for me. A rookie perhaps will gives me an excuse for my much-less-than-perfect performance. I have my usual problems: making up words and lyrics as I plow through the inaccuracies, a losing my place now and then. If I were easily shamed, I would have been embarrassed. But at the end of the service, the rest of the choir didn't ask "how could you do that?" But they tell me I was pretty good. In all immodesty, I was okay in spots. But I wouldn't want to listen to a recording of my general disaster. Next week, I will be the cantor again, with different music and, I hope, more success.
Since I have the afternoon off from my radio show, The MarysMA and I have brunch at Impastato Cellars. A few months ago, we were there when a telephone call came in from the radio staff, telling me that I was supposed to have done a show today. Good Lord! Only one time before did I completely forget a show. I rush home to get it on the air back then. Today I make sure that I am not expected, and the Marys and I can have brunch in peace.
Monday, January 29, 2018. Investment Guys Take Over Galatoire's. I have a major gig today, one I have been thinking about for months. A corporate meeting of people in the financial industry is spending a lot of time and money here in New Orleans. For several days, they have been enjoying a full slate of New Orleans pleasures, between business programs. They asked me to give a talk about the culinary world in our town, and there I was.
The man running the show had a big evening for his guests. When I broke away from the radio studio, they were at Preservation Hall, listening to the best traditional jazz to be found in these parts. And you don't get better than that. The group then second-lined up Bourbon Street, tugged along by a carnival-style parade of powerful, jazzy musicians. Their route took them to the front door of Galatoire's, when there attendees would enter and get ready for a serious Galatoire's meal.
My presentation to the group was arranged by the host for this show. When he and I discussed how this would go, one of us let loose the datum that he was a Jesuit Blue Jay. So am I, said other. Not living in New Orleans now, but happy to be back, and eager to turn on all those who have not walked these streets nor eaten this gumbo. I was the older of the two of us, by a couple of years. But that difference means nothing to us Jesuit guys.
The dinner was classic Galatoire's fare: oysters Rockefeller, shrimp remoulade, trout meuniere, a very juicy, excellent pork chop (best dish of the night), and an assortment of little sweet items in lieu of desserts. Starting the short list of wines, we begin with nothing less than Montrachet.
It all made for a pleasant evening. My host is a good speaker, and he clearly knows New Orleans. He let me play my usual games. On the way out, one of the organizers handed me an envelope. How much did I want for my services, they had asked a few months ago. My price list asks only whatever the host thinks I'm worth, I told him.
When I opened the envelope, I found that my estimation of the number indicated more success than I expected. It made up for what happened in the church sacristy this morning.
