[title type="h5"]Sunday, June 1, 2014.
La Provence At Its Peak
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If I were still a kid (and I wish I were), summer vacation would lock in today. Nothing of the kind happens, but I can think about it and feel something nice.
The procession of thunderstorms--most showing up as red on the radar--continues. But the sun comes out in the late afternoon. So I think I'll head out to dinner at La Provence.
I have been saying this for years: La Provence has never been better, except perhaps during three or four of its founder Chris Kerageorgiou's best years. With the backing of John Besh--who worked at La Provence early in his career and understands it completely--Chef Erick Loos continues to make the dining ever more brilliant.
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The famous paté.[/caption]Meanwhile, "Just Joyce"--the resident poet, mixologist, mother hen and friend to all for three decades here–is on my table. She asks whether I would be there for Father's Day. I hadn't thought about it. She gives me her Father's Day poem, in case I don't make it by. And she says that the menu is full of new dishes I need to try.
My plan is to have a meal of three appetizers and a dessert. The chefs would not let me get away with that. I don't dine at La Provence enough, they say, and they are right.
Things start with a ramekin of the house pate, an essential menu fixture since 1972. As usual, I use up far too much of my stomach space with that spread on bread, but there is no resisting.
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Asparagus soup.[/caption]
Then I see that La Provence's green leitmotif is still in place. Almost everything I eat has an offbeat green presence. This begins with a cold asparagus and crabmeat soup, with parsley oil and sour cream. Wonderful.
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Salt and pepper shrimp with compressed watermelon.[/caption]
Next, the first of several items I didn't order: salt and pepper shrimp, covered with a light coating dirty with flecks of black pepper, the shrimp lined up on a skewer with cubes of compressed watermelon. Beneath them are slices of avocado and little spheres of a thick, green sauce.
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Pea and ham soup.[/caption]
Here's a soup whose list of ingredients is not likely duplicated around town: cochon de lait (from La Provence's own herd of pigs), green peas still in the shells, radishes and Parmesan cheese. With a "cured" egg in the middle. (How do you cure an eggs?) The whole thing has an almost absurdly fresh flavor.
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Oysters ooh-la-la.
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Now a rare dish I asked for. How can one resist a name like "Oysters Ooh-la-la!" Ooh-la-la indeed. The oysters are baked on the shells with a sauce made predominantly of crab fat, with a bit of bread crumbs and cheese. Never tasted anything quite like this. It's a good as it is original. I hope it stays on the menu.
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The green theme under a soft-shell crab.[/caption]
Back to volunteer courses: a strikingly delectable, cornmeal-coated soft shell crab. The plate's sides are stippled with "salsa verde," as the green theme continues.
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Parmesan flounder.[/caption]
That's an entree. So is the parmesan-crusted flounder, which on the plate looks like a miniature loaf of bread. Crawfish, gnocchi, and asparagus share the plate. I am beyond stuffed.
It is now around seven. And in walks Ronnie Kole--virtuoso jazz pianist, gourmet and oenophile. He is with his wife Gardner and her son and his wife. . . and a few bottles of French wine. Ronnie asks me if I'd like to join them, and maybe later Ronnie will head to the piano and play a few numbers, and perhaps I can vocalize with him. His idea. We have done this before. I like to think that I know the words to all the classic American Songbook tunes, but Ronnie is the master of all of those. What an opportunity. I only wished that I could still move, after those eight courses.
I can't remember having had a better dinner at La Provence, and I have been eating there for forty years. Why I don't come here for dinner every Sunday?
Mary Ann calls and says that the wedding was nice, and that she and Mary Leigh would head home tomorrow. But also that they will split the 600-mile trip into two segments. That is a very good idea, but that's not why they're doing it. They found a place called Reynolds Plantation--a Ritz-Carlton property--and thought it would be fun to stay there, and thereby add to Mary Ann's collection of the best hotels in the world.
At home, it seems to have stopped raining.
[title type="h5"]La Provence. Lacombe: 25020 US 190. 985-626-7662. [/title]
