I didn't hear a single mention today that it's Friday the Thirteenth. In a year ending with a thirteen, at that. I miss the days when that fact would have been unavoidable to readers of the Pogo comic strip, Turtle character Churchy LaFemme would all but lost his mind worrying about the bad luck that he knew would come (but never did). I wonder why the strip has never been republished on line. I'd read it every day, as I did from the time I understood it in the 1950s until the day it ended in 1973.
I must note that Walt Kelly, the creator of Pogo, also drew a New Orleans icon: Jayson, the Jesuit High School Fighting Blue Jay. The drawing is still emblazoned on everything at Jesuit.
Feeling that I'd stacked up enough points with Mary Ann to win a prize, I suggested that on a cold night like this dinner at La Provence could not help but be wonderful. She hesitated, mentioning her aversion to long dinners, then counted up my point total. Then she agreed, with pleasure.
The restaurant in Lacombe was moderately busy. We got a table next to the fireplace. But instead of wood logs burning in there, as they always have in the past, there was a gas burner. I wonder if some law or insurance requirement put an end to the cheerful trademark of La Provence. Maybe they just ran out of wood.
Out came the chicken liver pate and the French bread croutons. A lot of people would call this complimentary offering the best thing to eat at La Provence. It isn't, but any chef who ever tried to get rid of it found himself facing a phalanx of angry regular customers.
Chef Erik Loos told me that he uses all kinds of liver that come his way to make this pate. It does vary a bit, but is never less than delicious enough that we run through at least a whole ramekin per person.
But tonight Mary Ann said that it tasted like blue cheese to her. Chef Erik said that was unlikely, but I can see what she's talking about. Didn't slow down our spreading and eating, with glasses of French bubbly wine.
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Winter salad at La Provence.[/caption]
Making our way into the food we had to pay for, Mary Ann began with a very pretty winter salad, the sauce of which was a cool green slurry that looked like chimichurri, but tasted more like pesto.
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Crab bisque in a jar.[/caption]
Before me was one of those French jars with the clip-on glass cap, keeping the crabmeat bisque inside nice and warm. I think that soup has been on the menu since Chef Erik started, and maybe even since the Chef Chris era. Good stuff.
Just Joyce–the celebrity server at La Provence for over thirty years–came by to say hello and to share her Christmas poem. She asked whether I would recite it on the air, as I have in the past. Sounds like a good tradition to me.
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Chestnut ravioli, made by hand.[/caption]
Mary Ann and I split an order of the chestnut ravioli special. This was house-made pasta that actually was worth the chef's trouble, with a thin, supple texture and a lovely filling. On top were some thin slices of griddled ham. A couple of satsuma sections completed the loveliness.
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Chicken grand-mere's style.[/caption]
Mary Ann nailed down the entree I was considering. It's a roast chicken, but broken down and rebuilt so as not to look much like standard chicken. Great sauce, great fresh vegetables. Happy wife.
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Red snapper, in the process of being sauced.[/caption]
For me was a fillet of broiled red snapper, served with a thick brown sauce that reminded me–but only a little--of Antoine's sauce Colbert. Brown sauce on fish. Nothing is more New Orleans than that.
So far, this would have been a five-star meal except for one thing. The entrees, and the ravioli, came out much less than hot. This is a problem I'm noticing in a lot of restaurants these days. If the vogue has shifted to lukewarm, then I hope it has the same short lifespan that the Nehru suit did.
Dessert was marvelous: a ball of raspberry ice atop a little upside down cake that was so luscious with fruit that I gobbled it up.
Just Joyce tipped us off to the fact that Ronnie Kole, the brilliant local jazz and classical pianist, oenophile and friend, was on the other side of the fireplace. As my reward for approaching with Christmas greetings, he shared a glass of 2005 St. Estephe. He said that he would be playing some Christmas music in the bar after dinner. Any other time, I would have waited as long as I had to for that. But Mary Ann's back was aching. Another time, I hope.
La Provence is another one of those restaurants that makes us ask, why don't we come here more often? It's not especially more expensive than all the other places we go. And while it's still on the outskirts of civilization, it's really not that far out.
La Provence is proudly supported by the profits of all John Besh's other restaurants.
La Provence. Lacombe: 25020 US 190. 985-626-7662.
