Saturday, October 10, 2015.
The Fitzmorris Clan Meets.
It's a busy weekend for everyone here. Mary Leigh has a wedding cake under construction for one of her clients. Mary Ann and I swap off the one automobile we must share, while my PT Cruiser lingers in the shop. (The news: it will cost me about $1500, and we are waiting for parts. One of the disadvantages of keeping an old car running beyond its normal lifespan is that parts are often not available. Worst case: a part noted as being on back order. I I have three such for this job.
I perform my errands, after which we meet and drive to Old Metairie's Pontiff Playground. There "Big John" Fitzmorris--a man I can't remember meeting before, though he is a second cousin--has organized a Fitzmorris family reunion. Some twenty people show up at Shelter Number Six, don special T-shirts, and acquaint one another. My generation of my branch of the family is fully present: my three sisters and me, ranging in age from sixty-two to seventy-five. But only one of the next generation: my niece Holly. Only she and Mary Leigh live in the New Orleans area, and ML will soon move on, too. Looking back in the other generational direction, we find no survivors, even among our many aunts and uncles.
That latter datum made it fun to talk with cousins I haven't seen in a long time. The most cherished of our Fitzmorris uncles was Uncle Albert. All the cousins remember his happy gambit: he showed up every Christmas Eve with a load of toys and games for each niece or nephew, almost always eclipsing what Santa Claus would bring later. We would not see him again until the following Christmas.
The most famous of the New Orleans Fitzmorrises is, of course, James E. Fitzmorris, the longtime Lieutenant Governor of Louisiana. Before that he was almost mayor of New Orleans (Moon Landrieu beat him) and almost governor (versus David Treen). His greatest achievement was in never having been tarnished by so much as an accusation of corruption. He really was Mr. Clean throughout his career. That's probably why he didn't get elected to the top spots.
Cousin Jimmy showed up with a smile on his face and a crisp voice with thoroughly coherent speech. He looked to be in his seventies, and sounded as if he were fiftyish. He is actually ninety-one. I was surprised that he greeted me by name and knew who I was, even though I only met him a half-dozen or so times.
The meeting was a picnic, with a couple of grills going, platters of sandwiches, cookies and the like. In two hours, I had a great time figuring out how these cousins fit into the fabric of the family. I was hoping to meet Jim Fitzmorris, the local playwright and writer, but if he came it was after we left.
[caption id="attachment_49228" align="alignnone" width="480"]
View of the marina from Blue Crab.[/caption]
Mary Leigh and Dave meet us for dinner in the late afternoon at the Blue Crab. Mary Ann says it is far and away her favorite seafood house hereabouts. Part of this is because of the expansive outdoor seating and the view of the lake and the boats coming and going from the marina. But she's happy with the food, too. We start with some onion rings--the only ones I know that are thicker than the Charlie's Steakhouse kind (although not by much), but still agreeably crisp.
Then I have a dozen very cold, very fine raw oysters. I follow that with oyster-artichoke soup, which would be better if it were thinned out a bit. The Engaged Couple eats salads. Mary Ann gets her usual fried seafood platter. She gripes about how big it is, but most people would take that as praise.
I will surely attract disagreers to this, but I think that the Blue Crab has managed to allow people to quit lamenting about the disappearance of the world of seafood restaurants that for a hundred years lined West End Park. It's unlikely that any restaurant will ever reopen there, After ten years of doing without Bruning's and its ilk, we seem to be resigned to pass the torch to the Blue Crab and Brisbi's, both of which are very different from the old West End. But we seem to be accepting it. The crowds at both restaurants could hardly be greater.
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Sunday, October 11, 2015.
A Birthday At The Peppermill. Feast With The Stars.
Another frenetic day, starting with brunch at the Peppermill to honor my big sister Judy's birthday. She and her husband Walter are looking good, despite their ages. They both shook off cancer during the last couple of years. They must be saying the right prayers, to quote Dick Brennan Sr.
This is the second time in two days that my siblings are all in one place. That doesn't happen much. But I'd do anything for Judy, who was like a second mother to the younger three of us. She always sends cards to any family member passing any kind of milestone.
[caption id="attachment_49227" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Mediterranen omelette @ Peppermill.[/caption]
It's a standard Peppermill breakfast. Pancakes, waffles, omelettes, eggs scrambled or otherwise. Toast and biscuits and all the rest of it. The most memorable conversation has to do with how corny most men are in their humor. All the women take this on principle, with Walter, me, and our late dad offered as prime examples.
The birthday breakfast ends just in time for me to get to my next gig. It is the annual Feast With The Stars, a fundraiser that started thirty years ago to plant trees and other greenery around town. It's put on by the Parkway Partners, the volunteer organization for the New Orleans Parks and Parkway Commission.
Coincidentally, the chef who did the food for the first three runnings of Feast With The Stars was Chef Paul Prudhomme, who passed away three days ago. I have no doubt that the Stars (mostly media people) were also attracted by Chef Paul back then. After Chef Paul moved on, the hotel restaurants largely took over. That was a nice fit. The Fest is a brunch--something hotels do well. Hotels also have budgets for things like this.
I can't remember how many years ago I was asked to be one of the Stars, but I still feel funny about it. There used to be more and better. All the local television people, for example. Now the only Stars who probably would be recognized are Margaret Orr (who is very much involved in planting greenery around town), Errol and Peggy Laborde, Dominic Massa from Channel Four, and me.
[caption id="attachment_49223" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Feast with the Stars.[/caption]
The event is in Gallier Hall, whose exterior is undergoing reconstruction. Inside looks the same as ever, except that all the food now fits into one room. Used to be all of them were needed. None of the restaurants who brought food sent along their chefs. We used to see Susan Spicer, Lea Chase, Greg Picolo. This event needs some goosing up. Flo Schornstein--who has done more for the cause than anyone--encouraged me to do so. I'd hate to see this nice fall event go away.
[caption id="attachment_49224" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Read beans at the Feast.[/caption]
A highlight of the party is a cadre of dancing women in brilliant pink outfits. Buy one of their balloons for twenty dollars and you get a tree planted somewhere. They wanted me to dance with them, but I felt uncomfortable having my photo taken as part of a group that called itself "The Pussyfooters."
View of the marina from Blue Crab.[/caption]
Mary Leigh and Dave meet us for dinner in the late afternoon at the Blue Crab. Mary Ann says it is far and away her favorite seafood house hereabouts. Part of this is because of the expansive outdoor seating and the view of the lake and the boats coming and going from the marina. But she's happy with the food, too. We start with some onion rings--the only ones I know that are thicker than the Charlie's Steakhouse kind (although not by much), but still agreeably crisp.
Then I have a dozen very cold, very fine raw oysters. I follow that with oyster-artichoke soup, which would be better if it were thinned out a bit. The Engaged Couple eats salads. Mary Ann gets her usual fried seafood platter. She gripes about how big it is, but most people would take that as praise.
I will surely attract disagreers to this, but I think that the Blue Crab has managed to allow people to quit lamenting about the disappearance of the world of seafood restaurants that for a hundred years lined West End Park. It's unlikely that any restaurant will ever reopen there, After ten years of doing without Bruning's and its ilk, we seem to be resigned to pass the torch to the Blue Crab and Brisbi's, both of which are very different from the old West End. But we seem to be accepting it. The crowds at both restaurants could hardly be greater.
[divider type=""]
Mediterranen omelette @ Peppermill.[/caption]
It's a standard Peppermill breakfast. Pancakes, waffles, omelettes, eggs scrambled or otherwise. Toast and biscuits and all the rest of it. The most memorable conversation has to do with how corny most men are in their humor. All the women take this on principle, with Walter, me, and our late dad offered as prime examples.
The birthday breakfast ends just in time for me to get to my next gig. It is the annual Feast With The Stars, a fundraiser that started thirty years ago to plant trees and other greenery around town. It's put on by the Parkway Partners, the volunteer organization for the New Orleans Parks and Parkway Commission.
Coincidentally, the chef who did the food for the first three runnings of Feast With The Stars was Chef Paul Prudhomme, who passed away three days ago. I have no doubt that the Stars (mostly media people) were also attracted by Chef Paul back then. After Chef Paul moved on, the hotel restaurants largely took over. That was a nice fit. The Fest is a brunch--something hotels do well. Hotels also have budgets for things like this.
I can't remember how many years ago I was asked to be one of the Stars, but I still feel funny about it. There used to be more and better. All the local television people, for example. Now the only Stars who probably would be recognized are Margaret Orr (who is very much involved in planting greenery around town), Errol and Peggy Laborde, Dominic Massa from Channel Four, and me.
[caption id="attachment_49223" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Feast with the Stars.[/caption]
The event is in Gallier Hall, whose exterior is undergoing reconstruction. Inside looks the same as ever, except that all the food now fits into one room. Used to be all of them were needed. None of the restaurants who brought food sent along their chefs. We used to see Susan Spicer, Lea Chase, Greg Picolo. This event needs some goosing up. Flo Schornstein--who has done more for the cause than anyone--encouraged me to do so. I'd hate to see this nice fall event go away.
[caption id="attachment_49224" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Read beans at the Feast.[/caption]
A highlight of the party is a cadre of dancing women in brilliant pink outfits. Buy one of their balloons for twenty dollars and you get a tree planted somewhere. They wanted me to dance with them, but I felt uncomfortable having my photo taken as part of a group that called itself "The Pussyfooters."
