Food and Wine Magazine had a startling cover in 2017, which turned out to be a harbinger of things to come. It declared an obscure sandwich place on our own Jackson Avenue to be the best restaurant in America. Turkey and the Wolf, whose signature fried bologna sandwich was so “awesome” it trumped the garage sale decor, and refurbished gas station interior in a mildly-gentrifying part of town to claim such a title.
Mason Hereford, a Virginia transplant, has become the poster child for this type of culinary revolution locally. It was inevitable that a book would follow.
What was not inevitable at all was that we would be invited to the book launch party. I had to go. Unlike all other book parties we have attended, this one had no books (which was due to some bizarre mishap - they are promised for a later date.), and seemingly no food. To be fair, I didn’t stay long enough to certify that the party was foodless. I knew instantly upon arrival that I was much too old to be there, but I waited just a bit to see if food made an appearance. Presumably some food from the book is appropriate.
It seemed to be a liquid event, so I walked to the bar to order a drink. But I don’t drink either, so the bartender tried to guide me through the drink menu. Normally when compelled to drink something I choose champagne, but Barrel Proof does not strike me as a place one would find that. I quickly punted and asked for a beer, which prompted the predictable response in a place like this. “What would you like?” at which point I imagined the beer universe. Quite intimidating. My mind drew a blank so I went to the simplest, laziest answer, wondering if it would elicit a laugh. “Abita Amber?” I almost laughed myself.
I applaud her for resisting the obvious opening to mockery. She responded simply by pleasantly informing me that they didn’t have that, and kindly made a few suggestions of something I might like based on my request. I jumped on the first one just to be done with it all. I took her suggestion and liked it rather well, if only I could remember what it was.
There wasn’t a single person I had any interest in talking to, and I was understandably invisible to all of them. Two sips of my pretty good beer, and I left.
Now what? I had the evening to myself and I needed to get some food on the Southshore. I drove down to the Bower but was deterred the usual way - no place to park. The complexities of dining in New Orleans suddenly overwhelmed me, so I decided to stop in Metairie on the way home.
The bar at Ruth’s Chris was still on my mind from a Valentine’s piece I wrote for this newsletter. I arrived with ten minutes to spare before Happy Hour ended. The Happy Hour at Ruth’s Chris has always been a steal, and I love the vibe in the bar here.
A woman beat me by mere minutes to get the last table. I had to sit at the bar on a barstool in the single space left.
The waiter was very accommodating, as waiters sometimes aren’t in the waning minutes of a Happy Hour.
On the table next to where I was sitting were the remains of what appeared to be an appealing shrimp dish. The Happy Hour menu was limited to an Ahi tuna dish, steak sandwich, these shrimp, and a burger, which is the reason why I came.
I quickly ordered the shrimp dish and burger in two courses. Remember when Bonefish Grill arrived on the scene with their Bang Bang shrimp, spawning imitators everywhere? Tommy Cvitanovich, himself the creator of perhaps THE most locally copied dish, the now world-famous chargrilled oysters) quickly added his Fleur De Lis Shrimp, and now these delectable shrimp are turning up all over. They are first fried and then tossed in a spicy cream sauce. Impossibly great, these were unique in that they were large shrimp half-butterflied, with tail still on and what seems like a ram’s horn at the other end. This method of cutting down on a very large shrimp’s size makes it more appealing to me, but it is still a knife and fork affair, needing to be cut into threes.
The shrimp themselves were great, but separated into two piles of three or four shrimp each. In the middle was a fantastically tasty mound of pickled cucumber salad. I could have eaten a very large pile of this, with its thinly sliced cucumber mixed with purple onion, all tossed in a light and perky vinaigrette. A little crunch to it, I loved this.
The small French roll served with every order made this the perfect meal.
I didn’t need to eat any more, but when the burger arrived I was delighted to power through. Clearly misshapen, (to me the desirable mark of a handmade patty), it was blanketed in a pile of melted cheddar on a basic non-fancy bun whose top was unfortunately made into garlic bread. That was my only complaint besides the lack of pickles, which is semi-essential to the enjoyment of a burger for me. The single Romaine leaf was nice and I couldn’t believe I saw a thick slice of a red tomato that turned out to taste like actual tomato. (another typical complaint of mine.)
This burger was accompanied by handcut fries which had all the characteristics of such fries. They were inconsistently sized, sporting skin in some places, properly salted, with the kind of golden brown crisp and crunch only Mom made long ago. If only I had more of these.
Sitting at the bar watching the television, soaking up the friendly aura from the waiter, bartender, and fellow bar patrons, it was a most enjoyable way to pass some time. Happy Hour is a perfect name for this experience, even though I had nothing to drink but a constantly-filled iced tea.
The bill was a mere $26. Extra happy about that.
