Meuniere Day

Po-Boy Festival...17...Halloween... 21, .., Thanksgiving...49

This is Meuniere Day in all Francophone areas of the world. The French word meuniere means "in the style of the flour miller's wife." Which is to say coated in flour before being cooked, probably in butter. The butter and the flour that shook loose brown a little. It's then doctored up with lemon juice, red wine vinegar, or Worcestershire sauce, resulting in a sauce for the fish or veal or whatever.Here in New Orleans we make full use of the concept, enough that a uniquely Creole version of meuniere has evolved. It uses all the same ingredients, but in a different way. The flour and butter are made into a light roux, which is then added to a little stock, with lemon and Worcestershire. This can be made in a large batch, instead of a few servings at a time. It also allows for the fish to be fried instead of sauteed. This style of meuniere probably was invented in the 1920s at Arnaud's, where it sped up production of the restaurant's signature trout meuniere. Arnaud's style of meuniere spread to many other restaurants, getting thicker, darker, and meatier in flavor as time went on.Today is also rumored to be National Angel Food Cake Day. Angel food cake was a reaction to devil's food cake. And, of course, not nearly as satisfying. Angel food cake's distinction is its lightness; it's made with only the whites of eggs, whipped into a fine foam, with the sugar and flour and flavoring added to it. No matter what you do, it comes out dry, and needs something juicy added to it. Hey! Here's an idea. A layer cake alternating devil's food and angel food. Why not?

andouille, [ahn-DOO-yee], n., French--In Louisiana, andouille is the most exalted form of smoked pork sausage. It's made with chunks of pork filled out with a little ground pork and pork fat. The seasoning mix gives it a medium kick of pepper and a reddish color from cayenne and paprika. Most andouilles also contain a noticeable flavor of garlic. All of this is stuffed into a thick casing and smoked to about the degree that barbecue sausage would get. Andouille is thought of as Cajun and its name is French, but the part of Louisiana most famous for it--the River Parishes, between New Orleans and Baton Rouge-- has a German heritage. The thick, smoky skin is evidence of that. Andouille is usually sliced into thick coins about a half-inch thick before it's cast into the pot with the red beans, gumbo, or jambalaya (its favorite hangouts). It's also delicious all by itself, grilled until the skin is crunchy and served with some Creole mustard on the side. The center of andouille-making is Laplace, about thirty miles west of New Orleans. It's also made by most of the small butchers throughout Cajun country.

Tomato Hill is an unexpected 164-foot summit rising out of marshland, surrounded by some fairly large lakes, forty-eight miles northwest of Orlando, Florida. It has become almost entirely suburbanized in recent years. Indeed, a great many undeveloped lots on newly-paved streets are nearby. Things being what they are, they'll probably stay that way awhile. If you get a running start at the top of the hill, you should make good time covering the mile to Sunny Side Barbecue and Deli, the nearest restaurant. Many seafood restaurants are nearby, too.

You can make a credible meuniere sauce in seconds by swirling pats of butter around in a very hot pan, then adding dashes of lemon juice (or red wine vinegar) and Worcestershire to it as soon as the butter is completely melted.

Earle Dickson, the man who invented the Band-Aid, was born today in 1892. He was motivated by his wife Josephine, who--like most of us who spend a lot of time in the kitchen--cut herself often enough to need a quick, ready remedy. In those days you used gauze held in place by tape to wrap a cut. But that had a way of slipping off. Dickson's insight was that if a pad of gauze were attached to a piece of tape the proper size, it would remain in place longer and be more effective. His employer, Johnson and Johnson, started making the new bandage in 1924, and it became the fantastic success it remains today.

This is the birthday of the tuxedo. The year was 1886. Tobacco heir Griswold Lorillard showed up for the autumn ball at his club in Tuxedo Park, New York, wearing a dinner jacket custom-made for him in England. Its radical design departure: no tails. The daring new look swept through high society, where it remains the standard uniform for men in formal settings. I wear a tuxedo every chance I get, because it makes even bald old men look fabulous. (Well, some of them, anyway.) You don't need a reason. If you're going out to dinner, just show up for dinner in a tux. (Do remember that it is strictly for dinnertime, and not to be worn before six p.m.) The worst thing that could happen is that you might be mistaken for a waiter. In the old days of Arnaud's, Germaine Cazenave Wells (Count Arnaud's daughter) declared that in order to dine in the Richelieu Room (that's the one the restaurant now uses as its Jazz Bistro), men were required to wear tuxedos. I think some restaurant ought to bring that idea back, at least once in a while. (In the winter, please.)

Today in 1966, Simon and Garfunkel released their third album. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme. That's a line from Scarborough Fair, the hit song in the album. It came out on the radio when the weather was just turning cold, and I think of fall every time I hear it. Speaking of fall songs: Today in 1903 was the birthday of composer Vernon Duke (born as Vladimir Dukelsky). He wrote many standards, of which the best is Autumn In New York. The song is always on my mind this time of year. In fact, I've been singing it to myself all morning. Today in 1926, the musical Hold Everything, about a boxer, opened on Broadway. It included the song You're The Cream In My Coffee. . . Today in 1970, Neil Diamond had his first Number One hit, Cracklin' Rosie. The name was a play on crackling rosé, a cheap pink wine popular for about three days in the late Sixties.

Around New Orleans, everyone remembers the day he or she returned from evacuation to resume life in the Crescent City. Today in 2005--six weeks after the storm--I arrived home after a two-day drive from Washington, D.C. The entire metropolitan area was still a disaster area, and would be for quite a while longer. But few moments of my life were more heavily freighted with happy expectancy.

Swedish vocalist Neneh Cherry was born today in 1964. . . Luc von Brabant, a poet specializing in erotic works, was born in Belgium today in 1909.

"I hate television. I hate it as much as I hate peanuts. But I can not stop eating peanuts."--Orson Welles, actor, director, magician, and very dedicated gourmet, who died on this day in 1985. "He looked about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food."--Raymond Chandler, mystery writer."You may have the universe if I may have Italy."--Giuseppe Verdi, opera composer, born today in 1813.

"The days of wine and roses Laugh and run awayLike a child at play."--Johnny Mercer, American singer and songwriter.