Tuesday, October 11, 2016.
Josephine Estelle Again.
Mary Ann allows me to take her to dinner almost every night this week, and to interesting restaurants at that. Tonight we make our second stop at Josephine Estelle, the handsome, antique parlor in the Ace Hotel on Carondelet at Lafayette. This will give me all the material I need for a full review.
We notice both on this visit and the last one that the front desk of Josephine Estelle seems to allocate its tables in an organized way. MA says that the tables nearest to the front for seem to go only to young, good-looking customers. But her theory is debunked when, as the place filled up, the demographics remained random.
On the other hand, I was taken aback when I arrived and asked to be seated while I waited for MA. But the maitre d' told me I had to wait in the bar, which was close to being full. So I just stood around impatiently until he relented and gave me a table.
MA was touring the neighborhood, looking for a space with the smallest number of underdressed people milling about. Don't ask me. I've failed to figure out her parking imperatives for all our quarter-century together.
I've already reported on the food we had tonight at Josephine Estelle in the diary entry of a week ago. (Time is relative in the Dining Diary. Strange coincidence: I just started in on a biography of Albert Einstein by New Orleans-born writer Walter Isaacson.)
To go back in time (and the first report on Josephine Estelle),
click here.
But above is a photo of the snapper crudo refererenced but without depiction in last week's review. I still can't get the photos out of the complex new smart phone that went with me on the cruise, but I've gone back to shooting with a standard camera.
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Wednesday, October 12, 2016.
Angeline.
The most intense action in the New Orleans restaurant theater seems to have shifted from Magazine Street (where things continue to jump) to the short corridor along Decatur and Chartres Streets, from Dumaine to Ursulines. Here we find three revivals of storied names and locations, all of which have somehow kept their auras alive, even as they remained closed for extended periods.
So here's Café Sbisa, in its fifth or sixth incarnation, depending on when you started or stopped counting. A block away is the new Trinity, in what was for a long time Maximo's. Finally, the courtyard restaurant that became famous for Scott Boswell's
lost, five-fleur masterwork Stella! is now Angeline.
Mary Ann had the idea of having dinner at Angeline tonight. I'm glad she thought of it, because it's been open two years and is certainly in line for a review.
I have heard reports that dining at Angeline requires planning. The lady serving us said that our being there on a night that had brought in only four of five tables' worth of customers was a major aberration. Not that the attendance bothers me. I actually prefer restaurants with a lot of available space. Keeps the noise down, allows the chef and servers to handle special requests, which MA is never at a loss for.
The restaurant comes across as less sophisticated than it actually is. The music, for example, is a mix of country, folk, and a touch of jazz. Whoever put this playlist together knows about this music. The tables are made of thick, handsome wood--but not clothed. All this is easy to explain given the resume of chef-owner Alex Harrell who, before moving here in early 2015, was the boss at Sylvain. That restaurant is about as hip as it gets, and much of that cachet rubs off here, too.
I get a variant on the Aviator cocktail, which means that of the fries are good. They are. Now comes two soups. One is sort of warm vichyssoise, but MA is much more interested in the soup headed my way, made with collards, black-eye peas, pork broth and bacon. All of these are among MA's favorite things, and soon we swap soup bowls.
We have some fried pork cheeks, which I like better than she does. I find the grilled oysters even better, and for the same reason MA dislikes them: the garlic butter is tinged with Herbsaint. That anise-licorice-absinthe flavor is not for her or, indeed, anyone in our house except me.
This has been a great meal so far. At least from my perspective. The lady serving us has struck up a sassy conversation, and she and I entertain one another the rest of the evening.
We are running out of appetite, but not before I go after the fish of the day. What was it again? Something simple and toasty-buttery.
Mary Ann is not a dessert eater, but certain items grab her. She cannot resist chocolate pots de creme. Especially not from a chef who spent time at Bayona. As for me, I like the sound of Angeline's cinnamon apple crumble with pecans. And the taste, too.
Angeline. French Quarter: 1032 Chartres St. 504-308-3106.
