Thursday, October 2, 2015.
Celebration @ Impastato Cellars: The Boy Returns.
Dave (the young man formerly known as The Boy, and now the fiancee of my daughter Mary Leigh) is in town after graduating from Army training. He is a second lieutenant, soon to move up to first. He will soon find out that this rank is well below that of husband.
We meet at Impastato Cellars in Madisonville. We will have our fourth Eat Club event there in two weeks. I am not there for business. The Cellars is where the Marys and Dave want to go for dinner tonight. I thought I was the first one there when Dave appeared from out of nowhere to shake my hand. The girls were already on the hanging patio in the back.
[caption id="attachment_49097" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Cellar with table, Impastato Cellars.[/caption]
We have what seems an immense amount of food on the table, but that may be due entirely to the reflexes of the kitchen. We begin with a few items new to me. One of these will be on the menu for the Eat Club: a pair of artichoke bottoms filled with crabmeat and shrimp in a cream sauce. That's funny. I was just talking about a dish much like that a few days ago. It was a specialty at the old La Louisiane in the Jimmy Moran days, with glazed hollandaise over the top instead of this cream sauce. Both of the Impastato brothers--as well as Joe Impastato's wife Mica--worked in the kitchen at La Louisiane, so they ought to have this down. Mary Ann sure thought so.
Another new if very simple dish come to my part of the table: oysters poached in a light sauce with herbs and a small presence of onions and celery. How did they get a dozen oysters into this little dish? It is better than it looks, but then I remember that all oysters-and-cream dishes are good.
[caption id="attachment_17525" align="alignnone" width="399"]
Crameat cannelloni with some extra crab claws on the side.[/caption]
From then on we eat familiar classics. Fettuccine Alfredo, a salad with panneed chicken on top, spaghetti and meatballs. For me, the crabmeat cannelloni. The sheets of pasta wrap around a large pile of jumbo lump, with an overwhelmingly rich cream sauce. This should never be eaten as an entree.
Joe Impastato has finished converting the former wine cellar--which still does stock a fair amount of wine--into a private dining room. It has only one table, big enough for twenty, at which Joe will concoct a five-course dinner with wines for bigger groups, Since the table is in its own room, it has more privacy than it appears.
Dinner over, I reach for the shift lever in my car. It feels funny. I move it into reverse, but it won't go there. I know immediately what the problem is. It happened to my 1980 Jetta in its last days. When I presented it to *Ashton Rupert at Doody & Hank's Auto Repair, he laughed and asked, "Which parking garage were you in last?" Come to think about it, a carhop did a bad job of parking my car about a week ago, and it's felt strange ever since.
I leave the car at the restaurant (with permission), and resolve to take care of it tomorrow morning. Can't drive a car that doesn't have a reverse gear. The other gears don't seem to be where they're supposed to be, either.
*Ashton was a guy I worked with at the Time Saver in the mid-1960s. Another one of the five hundred people--that's all--who live in New Orleans. I used to see him often at Mass, too.
Impastato Cellars. Madisonville: 240 Highway 22 E. 985-845-4445.
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Friday, October 3, 2015.
Nudging A Car Along. First Taste Of 2015 Oktoberfest.
I don't have the nerves for much of anything anymore, if I ever had them. I lay awake much of the night thinking about how I will get my car from Impastato Cellars to the dealer. The obvious strategy is just have AAA tow it there. But I can't help thinking that I might be able to drive the fifteen miles myself. And, indeed, I can. The forward gears seem to be fine. I just have to figure out where to throw the stick. I couldn't get it into fifth, but I can live without that. A couple of times, I had to use a slipping clutch in third to get rolling, but after a lifetime of driving manual transmissions, I know how to do that. With Mary Ann riding behind me, we get the car to Rainbow with no problems.
Now my anxiety will shift to how much this will cost. I'm thinking at least a large. (And the twelve-year-old car has only 230,000 miles on it! More irritating will be using MA's car. I put forth the proposition of renting a car, but she says no. That clears me in case I have to inconvenience here.
I use MA's car to drive into town. I have a guest on the radio: James Marvel, the stage director of the New Orleans' Opera's presentation of La Traviata on October 9 and 11. Interesting young guy, a New Orleans native, graduate of De La Salle, with a great track record of directing operas all over the world. Nothing stuffy about him at all. I've joked around less with chefs and waiters.
After the radio, I drive around aimlessly in Metairie trying to figure out where to have dinner. I wind up at the default restaurant on such an occasion: The Peppermill. This Italian restaurant has a long tradition of serving an Oktoberfest menu for the entire month. And there it is. I have a Creole-Italian schnitzel--also known as panneed veal with crabmeat in a butter sauce. Delicious! That and a house salad. I'd like a soup, but I don't like the Peppermill's soups much. No, not even their allegedly famous crawfish bisque.
Bread pudding finishes me off.
I hate Mary Ann's car.
Peppermill. Metairie: 3524 Severn Ave. 504-455-2266.
Cellar with table, Impastato Cellars.[/caption]
We have what seems an immense amount of food on the table, but that may be due entirely to the reflexes of the kitchen. We begin with a few items new to me. One of these will be on the menu for the Eat Club: a pair of artichoke bottoms filled with crabmeat and shrimp in a cream sauce. That's funny. I was just talking about a dish much like that a few days ago. It was a specialty at the old La Louisiane in the Jimmy Moran days, with glazed hollandaise over the top instead of this cream sauce. Both of the Impastato brothers--as well as Joe Impastato's wife Mica--worked in the kitchen at La Louisiane, so they ought to have this down. Mary Ann sure thought so.
Another new if very simple dish come to my part of the table: oysters poached in a light sauce with herbs and a small presence of onions and celery. How did they get a dozen oysters into this little dish? It is better than it looks, but then I remember that all oysters-and-cream dishes are good.
[caption id="attachment_17525" align="alignnone" width="399"]
Crameat cannelloni with some extra crab claws on the side.[/caption]
From then on we eat familiar classics. Fettuccine Alfredo, a salad with panneed chicken on top, spaghetti and meatballs. For me, the crabmeat cannelloni. The sheets of pasta wrap around a large pile of jumbo lump, with an overwhelmingly rich cream sauce. This should never be eaten as an entree.
Joe Impastato has finished converting the former wine cellar--which still does stock a fair amount of wine--into a private dining room. It has only one table, big enough for twenty, at which Joe will concoct a five-course dinner with wines for bigger groups, Since the table is in its own room, it has more privacy than it appears.
Dinner over, I reach for the shift lever in my car. It feels funny. I move it into reverse, but it won't go there. I know immediately what the problem is. It happened to my 1980 Jetta in its last days. When I presented it to *Ashton Rupert at Doody & Hank's Auto Repair, he laughed and asked, "Which parking garage were you in last?" Come to think about it, a carhop did a bad job of parking my car about a week ago, and it's felt strange ever since.
I leave the car at the restaurant (with permission), and resolve to take care of it tomorrow morning. Can't drive a car that doesn't have a reverse gear. The other gears don't seem to be where they're supposed to be, either.
*Ashton was a guy I worked with at the Time Saver in the mid-1960s. Another one of the five hundred people--that's all--who live in New Orleans. I used to see him often at Mass, too.
After the radio, I drive around aimlessly in Metairie trying to figure out where to have dinner. I wind up at the default restaurant on such an occasion: The Peppermill. This Italian restaurant has a long tradition of serving an Oktoberfest menu for the entire month. And there it is. I have a Creole-Italian schnitzel--also known as panneed veal with crabmeat in a butter sauce. Delicious! That and a house salad. I'd like a soup, but I don't like the Peppermill's soups much. No, not even their allegedly famous crawfish bisque.
Bread pudding finishes me off.
I hate Mary Ann's car.
