Tuesday, January 3, 2017.
Befogged And Malfunctioning. (Weren't they a vaudeville act who played the Orpheum in the 1930s?)
My plan today as my Yuletide vacation ends was to drive into town, yammer out a radio show from the studio, then have dinner with our travel agent for the Eat Club cruises. But this proved practically unworkable, perhaps because of something in the ether of the new-model year 2017. The Causeway is densely fogged in both directions, adding about 45 minute to each crossing. Just as I was about to slip into the fog anyway, my radio producer Doug Christian called to tell me that some complicated problem has shut down the 3WL studio. He said that I should stay home and broadcast from there. A welcome strategy, that--if only because it opens up about three hours in my day.
I consider going somewhere for the lunch I didn't have. But the idea of a further nap--I had just finished an eighteen-minute snooze when Doug called with his news--was irresistible.
The radio show went on the air on time. Except for the first few minutes, it was busy throughout. On the other hand, my pleas for reports on New Year's Eve fun brought in little of note. At this point, I feel as if the whole New Year celebration was been canceled, at least in from purview.
Mary Ann drove into town to hang out with Mary Leigh in our daughter's apartment, and she decided to just spend the night there. I am home alone again. Two days ago, MA and I visited a couple of friends who broke up their marriage a few years ago. We still go out and visit with the two of them together. During the inevitable conversation about the progress of their split so far, they both said that they like living alone. I lived alone for a long time--sixteen years, to be exact--before MA and I got married. Of all the changes in me since then, the most pervasive is that I can't imagine flying solo on a permanent basis.
I don't know how MA feels about that, really, so I choose to assume the best.
To dinner all alone at Mac's On Boston. It's a little cottage on the main drag of old Covington, across the street from the big live oak that sticks out into Boston Street. The owner and chef worked for a time in the burgeoning breakfast industry in Mandeville. He later took over the existing restaurant in the cottage, and with the help of his parents (his dad is the bartender--a great job for a dad of a chef, I think).
The menu is abbreviated, but there's enough here to make the eating interesting. I get there about once a year, and each time the cooking is better. Tonight it's exceptional.
Something happened that ought to occur more often in restaurants. No sooner had I sat down, I focused on an entree on the menu. It was a surf-and-turf of filet mignon and lobster tails. Also available was a sextet of sea scallops--dry-pack scallops, the good kind. I asked whether they will make a combination of those two, swapping out the lobster for the scallops. No problem, they tell me. (I should hope it wouldn't be a problem.) After a Caesar salad, here was a nice-sized filet seared Pittsburgh-style (I didn't even have to ask for it that way) and mid-rare. The sauce was a light brown job, perfect for the tender beef (tender tenderloins have plagued me lately). The scallops were in a beurre blanc into which overlapped a creamy risotto. The whole plate was right as rain, and made better still with a glass of California Merlot.
I say that it's a good thing that I homed in on this dinner because too many restaurants these days are overwhelmed by appetizers, at the detriment of the entrees. Not at Mac's.
They have a good dessert: an egg-nog version of creme brulee. It's still a touch warm from having been made recently. That's a flaw, but not much of one. It took nothing away from a very fine dinner.
Mac's dad tells me that the Mac's family will shortly take over the operation of the restaurant in the Clario Hotel on Causeway Boulevard. A lot of restaurants have been in and out of there, but. . .well, no sense in trying to guess how good it will be this soon.
Mac's On Boston. Covington: 324 E Boston St. 985-892-6550.
