Tuesday, January 12, 2016.
The Marys Run Counter To My Wisdom. Again.
It dipped into the twenties overnight, brushing the first frost of the season over the shining green grass. Crossing the Causeway, I see that the temperature is in the mid-50s. Soft-shell crab shedders (those are the guys who help the crabs doff their old hard shells) have told me that once the lake water temperature drops below 61 Fahrenheit, the soft-shell crabs disappear.
I mention this fact on the air. A few minutes later I get a call from a crab shedder. He confirms the 60-degree guideline, and he tells another story. In the same way that the first frost kills all your fresh basil plants, forcing you to think of ways of using a lot of it quickly, a lot of soft-shell crabs jam up in the market when the cold weather impends. This guy said that he made a deal with his distributor to flash-freeze some 1200 crabs. Use it or lose it, he says, and adds that no single restaurant would buy so many crabs at once. Aha! That explains why we are still seeing many soft-shells running as specials around town--at good prices, yet.
After I'm gone, I hope people remember what I have long said about going to newly opened, relocated, or renovated restaurants. Here's what I say, so there's no mistaking. Most (but not all) such restaurants take some time to get their moves down. This happens even to well-trained kitchen and dining room veterans. On average, the process takes around six months. Sometimes it comes together sooner, sometimes later. (So, there is no six-month rule.) I say that if you have an off-meal at such a place, the memory of it will likely stay with you well beyond the time when the restaurant reaches its peak. It's certainly not the right time for a review.
We have had a flurry of restaurant openings already this year. Indeed, yesterday on the air, I learned about five new places. One of these is Fogo De Chao, the leading chain of Brazilian steakhouses. It's now open in the J.W. Marriott Hotel on the Uptown side of Canal Street, between St. Charles and Camp. People have been asking me for years when this outfit, or a restaurant like it, will open in New Orleans. (The reason for this can be expressed in four words: "ALL YOU CAN EAT.")
So guess who lunched at Fogo de Chao today, a few days after it unlocked the doors? Yes! You got it in one guess! The Marys.
They want to go to dinner with me tonight. Mary Ann has worn down my resistance to try Kenton's, which opened about two months ago on Magazine Street at Nashville Avenue. So we go, against my guidelines. But the girls must be pleased.
I recognize immediately what the Marys like about Kenton's. It's a very handsome, cleverly designed space with a decidedly Southern feel. The lighting, the uniforms, the floor plan, the open kitchen at the end of a passageway, the arrangement of the lit-from-above whiskey bottles behind the bar, and the cheerleading announcements that issue forth from the kitchen every few minutes. It's cool, hip, swell, neat, and elegant. The one environmental consideration that falls short is comfort. But we'll get to that later.
I begin with a Manhattan, made with Sazerac rye whiskey--not often enough found in local bars, for some reason. The Marys ask for the crispy grits. These are cubes of tight, thick grits fried in butter (I think), until browned around the edges. We all like this. The cubes are topped with country ham, the American equivalent of prosciutto. It is cut too thick, which is why all the ham gets pushed my way.
The menu follows the current trend of being abbreviated. It's a cold night. Where are the soups? No soups at all. A lot of sides and starters, not many entrees. After I read the whole menu (with the help of my flashlight; darkness and tiny typefaces are other trends honored here), I'm looking for more. No specials, either.
I get some grilled oysters with bacon, in the realm of Oysters Drago, and so good that I inhale them while the Marys dab away at the buttery sauce. Mary Ann has deviled crab. I have never seen that served cold. Indeed, the crabmeat-filled shell rests atop a field of cracked ice. There is spicy caviar on top, which is duly moved to Daddy's plate. (The Marys don't like caviar.)
ML has something called whole hog pasta, a small plate. She likes it okay.
My entree--the only large plate in our order--is a pair of pompano fillets, with a sauce made of reduced oyster broth. This is good enough, but not the big pompano we're accustomed to at Antoine's, Galatoire's, and other places where pompano is celebrated.
By this time, Mary Ann is complaining constantly about the supports beneath the table. She says that she can't move her feet, and the position her legs are forced into is uncomfortable. I was thinking the same thing, although since I was at the end of the table I could swing my feet into the aisle between the lines of booths. ML, who has one side of the banquette to herself, is also okay, but also noticed the peculiar presence of these supports, which take up a lot of space under the table. In future visits, we will request any table but these.
I know better than to say I told you so to the Marys, but almost every issue that comes up tonight is a typical new-restaurant byproduct. I expect that when I come here again it will be summer, and the restaurant will be two or three times as good.
I would much prefer enjoying a great dinner than being chic.
Kenton's. Uptown: 5757 Magazine St. 504-891-1177.
