Saturday, October 24, 2015.
Sunset Symphony. Pardo's With The Gourmet Cellist.
Mary Ann and I have breakfast at Mattina Bella. She gets there first (we are going in opposite directions afterwards, so we employ two cars), and so we sit outside. She has the all-meats Country Boy omelette, but asks to have the ham left out in favor of more bacon. The ham is indeed gone when the work arrived, but there's no more bacon than unususal. She decides to let it go. I ask to have an extra order of bacon. I take one slice, and shove the other two her way. She eats them.
It's the little things, I say to myself, knowing that my track record with the little things is not especially good.
Out on the sidewalk, it's cloudy, humid, and breezy, different from the very dry weather we've had for many weeks. I hear on a radio newscast that the most powerful hurricane ever recorded in the Westerm Hemisphere is set to hit the west coast of Mexico with steady 200-miles-per-hour winds. It's rare for a tropical rain system in the Pacific to cross Mexico or Central America into the Gulf of Mexico. Tough for a tropical storm to cross the Sierra Madre mountains. But something about this storm and its power makes me think that the exceptional may well be in the cards for us.
Nevertheless, I get my newly-returned PT Cruiser washed. I irritate the guys who get it ready to run through the automated scrubber by taking a long time to clean out the library of magazines scattered throughout the car. It's been a long time since the last washing.
On the other hand, the guy who ups the ante on the wash by offering to clean the wheels and take the cloudiness out of the headlights, then detailing everything is not here. Once, they suggested that I upgrade the wash from a five-dollar run-through to $130. Today, $25 is all they manage to get out of me.
Five more stops later, I am at home. With no radio show to get on the air, I take a six-lap walk around the grounds. I think about cutting the grass, but I decide that if I did so, it would not be for the last time this year. And it's about time for the season to end.
Mary Ann says that the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra will perform on the Mandeville Lakefront this afternoon in a program called Sunset Symphonies. The clouds and winds have gained power since this morning, but we decide that this concert sounds good.
We are not the only ones. Hundreds of people have made picnics on the greensward in back of the seawall. Maybe more than a thousand, of all ages. The people are well spread out, yet we find a spot to unfold our chairs about five rods from the big tent full of musicians.
[caption id="attachment_49349" align="alignnone" width="480"]
The LPO's cello section. Daniel Lelchuk, the Gourmet Cellist, center.[/caption]
And sure enough, front row center, is Daniel Lelchuk, the Gourmet Cellist, who has extended his presence in our lives by guest hosting my radio show and playing for Mary Ann's last birthday party almost a year ago (!). He assumes the first chair in his section for the evening. Although we've been to several LPO performances in which he played, this is the first time we've had a chance to hear him in extended solos. He is a virtuoso, if you ask me.
The two-hour performance is terrific, full of familiar pieces, classical and modern, Strauss waltzes to Aaron Copland, and the anthems of all branches of the military. The flautists are kept very busy. Everybody down to the smallest children seems to enjoy the program.
It looks as if it might rain any minute, as dark clouds scud along at speed from east to west. The water in the lake is high, sometimes splashing over the seawall. But not a drop of precip has fallen by the time the band collects its applause.
We find Daniel and invite him to join us for dinner. Mary Ann calls Pardo's owner Osman Rodas to ask if we can be wedged in. Yes, he says, but I suspect otherwise. Indeed, when we get there a table wedged against the kitchen's traffic lane is all there is. But beggars can't be choosers, and we are happy for this.
[caption id="attachment_49346" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Mussels and grilled bread.[/caption]
We have some crudo of salmon and tuna as an amuse bouche, then bowls containing half-dozens of mussels in a brothy, slightly citrusy sauce. Daniel gets an enormous vat of a soup best described as having the flavors of barbecue shrimp with some of the qualities of a gumbo. Good taste, but a bit much in portion size. He barely has room to get down the grilled redfish that follows, let alone the fried oysters that take up some of the open space on that plate. Daniel's cello, sitting in the chair between his and Mary Ann's--you don't leave an instrument like that in the car--orders nothing.
[caption id="attachment_49344" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Venison with sweet potatoes.[/caption]
I have a beet salad, a strong regular item at Pardo's. Then the special of the night, a backstrap of venison roasted medium rare and set on a bed of mashed sweet potatoes. This is perfect for the season, and would be even more so if it were cold outside. Mary Ann gets some grilled shrimp served with a kind of rouille or aioli, spicy and a little rich.
[caption id="attachment_49347" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Shrimp with aioli.[/caption]
The wine is one I've long liked but haven't seen lately: MacMurray (as in the actor Fred McMurray; the grapevines are on what used to be his Ranch) Pinot Noir. It's from the Russian River valley in Sonoma, and is proof that the Gallo Family can make excellent wine when it wants to.
[caption id="attachment_49342" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Apple crepes.[/caption]
Daniel and I both get the apple crepes. Had I known how large they were, I'd had suggested that we each have a crepe, instead of two each.
Even though Pardo's was very busy and she had a very large table next to ours, the server took very good care of us. The large table was a party at which the gender of a soon-to-be-born baby was revealed to the family. They sent up a whoop when the fact was revealed. I didn't tune in to find out how it went. We don't know that about our own first grandchild, who is due in November, and neither do her or his parents.
Pardo's. Covington: 69305 Hwy 21. 985-893-3603.
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Sunday, October 25, 2015.
To Friends, In The Typhoon.
It begins to rain early in the day, as the effects of Hurricane Patricia slop eastward from its path across Mexico. It is no longer officially a hurricane, but that only means the winds have died down. It will rain buckets and flood large areas of Texas, ameliorating the drought but making a big mess. Then it's onward in our direction.
So I need an umbrella to get back and forth to the choir loft at St. Jane's. After which I spend most of the day catching up on bookkeeping (my father, who was a bookkeeper, was always pointing out that only that word has three double letters in a row) and clearing out my office. Meanwhile, Mary Ann performs similar duties in our impossibly cluttered bedroom. We agree that our lives would be much nicer if we could clear a few paths through this cordillera of stuff.
It's not until around three o'clock that we head out for the only meal of the day. She suggests, of all places, Friends. That's the long-running, burned-down American pop restaurant with a great view of the Tchefuncte River in Madisonville. The new Friends is a much larger, incomparably handsomer place than the old one. With three floors of dining and private party space, it sports a quality that ranks high on MA's list of attractions: lots of outdoor dining space, giving out onto the river.
[caption id="attachment_49357" align="alignnone" width="480"]
View from Friend's balcony, during typhoon.[/caption]
It is raining. But half of the outdoor tables are covered by the balcony above. Ah! But the wind is blowing, and the first two ranks of covered tables are still as wet as they would be if a sprinkler had been turned on above them.
So we sit at a table up against the inner wall. Some droplets hit us, and the wind blows the menus around, but we are indeed outdoors. We are there for about an hour and a half. A hundred or so other customers are indoors, their view filtered by windows. We would be the only people sitting outside the entire time we are there.
Friends is a restaurant to which we were introduced by our neighbors a few weeks after we moved to the Cool Water Ranch in 1990. We went. It was terrible. We went numerous other times, always at the behest of friends--usually the parents of friends of our kids. The food was never good, and the service was even worse. But the outdoor tables and the live bands always kept the place packed.
Then the hurricanes messed the place up. And then the fire burned it to the ground. Then, almost suddenly, the new building went up and opened, about six months ago. Same owners and management. However, a conversation I had with owner Ryan Richard a couple of years ago led me to believe that he more or less agreed with my assessment of Friend's problems. I heard a mix of reports during the past few months, but never enough to make me try it again just yet.
Until today. I give MA her way, and there we are, as the typhoon blew around the raindrops in the grey sky.
[caption id="attachment_49356" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Buffalo oysters at Friends. [/caption]
We start with some fried oysters tossed with a lot of hot sauce butter and a blue cheese dressing. Buffalo oysters, they call them. These are very good. Mary Ann gets a shrimp and oyster platter--a favorite meal for her. The main elements are crisp, grease-free, hot, and otherwise good. It is of tremendous size for the price, enough for two people.
[caption id="attachment_49354" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Grilled wahoo.[/caption]
I have the fish special: grilled wahoo. A great fish, and the way it was seasoned looked good. But wahoo is notorious for its propensity to dry up to a toughness on the grill if left there too long--as the one did in its thicker parts. A short marinade in a mix of white wine, olive oil, Worcestershire, lemon juice and Tabasco would have taken care of that. So there is hope.
[caption id="attachment_49352" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Pumpkin cheesecake.[/caption]
The desserts were very good: a light pumpkin cheesecake and a rather heavy but tasty bread pudding.
The service staff is dramatically improved over what I remember. Indeed Helen--who served us as among her call customers at N'Tini's for years--is now on the staff at Friends.
We head home through the squalls. I can't go for a walk, so I take a long nap. Then I get back to work, and hope the power doesn't go out. The man says that we can expect seven or eight inches of rain in the next three days. That will fill the pit where Twinnery is buried with silt, and help the earth reclaim him. We're still thinking about him a lot, and the letters keep coming.
Friends Coastal. Madisonville: 407 St Tammany St. 985-246-3370.
Mary Ann says that the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra will perform on the Mandeville Lakefront this afternoon in a program called Sunset Symphonies. The clouds and winds have gained power since this morning, but we decide that this concert sounds good.
We are not the only ones. Hundreds of people have made picnics on the greensward in back of the seawall. Maybe more than a thousand, of all ages. The people are well spread out, yet we find a spot to unfold our chairs about five rods from the big tent full of musicians.
[caption id="attachment_49349" align="alignnone" width="480"]
The LPO's cello section. Daniel Lelchuk, the Gourmet Cellist, center.[/caption]
And sure enough, front row center, is Daniel Lelchuk, the Gourmet Cellist, who has extended his presence in our lives by guest hosting my radio show and playing for Mary Ann's last birthday party almost a year ago (!). He assumes the first chair in his section for the evening. Although we've been to several LPO performances in which he played, this is the first time we've had a chance to hear him in extended solos. He is a virtuoso, if you ask me.
The two-hour performance is terrific, full of familiar pieces, classical and modern, Strauss waltzes to Aaron Copland, and the anthems of all branches of the military. The flautists are kept very busy. Everybody down to the smallest children seems to enjoy the program.
It looks as if it might rain any minute, as dark clouds scud along at speed from east to west. The water in the lake is high, sometimes splashing over the seawall. But not a drop of precip has fallen by the time the band collects its applause.
We find Daniel and invite him to join us for dinner. Mary Ann calls Pardo's owner Osman Rodas to ask if we can be wedged in. Yes, he says, but I suspect otherwise. Indeed, when we get there a table wedged against the kitchen's traffic lane is all there is. But beggars can't be choosers, and we are happy for this.
[caption id="attachment_49346" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Mussels and grilled bread.[/caption]
We have some crudo of salmon and tuna as an amuse bouche, then bowls containing half-dozens of mussels in a brothy, slightly citrusy sauce. Daniel gets an enormous vat of a soup best described as having the flavors of barbecue shrimp with some of the qualities of a gumbo. Good taste, but a bit much in portion size. He barely has room to get down the grilled redfish that follows, let alone the fried oysters that take up some of the open space on that plate. Daniel's cello, sitting in the chair between his and Mary Ann's--you don't leave an instrument like that in the car--orders nothing.
[caption id="attachment_49344" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Venison with sweet potatoes.[/caption]
I have a beet salad, a strong regular item at Pardo's. Then the special of the night, a backstrap of venison roasted medium rare and set on a bed of mashed sweet potatoes. This is perfect for the season, and would be even more so if it were cold outside. Mary Ann gets some grilled shrimp served with a kind of rouille or aioli, spicy and a little rich.
[caption id="attachment_49347" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Shrimp with aioli.[/caption]
The wine is one I've long liked but haven't seen lately: MacMurray (as in the actor Fred McMurray; the grapevines are on what used to be his Ranch) Pinot Noir. It's from the Russian River valley in Sonoma, and is proof that the Gallo Family can make excellent wine when it wants to.
[caption id="attachment_49342" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Apple crepes.[/caption]
Daniel and I both get the apple crepes. Had I known how large they were, I'd had suggested that we each have a crepe, instead of two each.
Even though Pardo's was very busy and she had a very large table next to ours, the server took very good care of us. The large table was a party at which the gender of a soon-to-be-born baby was revealed to the family. They sent up a whoop when the fact was revealed. I didn't tune in to find out how it went. We don't know that about our own first grandchild, who is due in November, and neither do her or his parents.
View from Friend's balcony, during typhoon.[/caption]
It is raining. But half of the outdoor tables are covered by the balcony above. Ah! But the wind is blowing, and the first two ranks of covered tables are still as wet as they would be if a sprinkler had been turned on above them.
So we sit at a table up against the inner wall. Some droplets hit us, and the wind blows the menus around, but we are indeed outdoors. We are there for about an hour and a half. A hundred or so other customers are indoors, their view filtered by windows. We would be the only people sitting outside the entire time we are there.
Friends is a restaurant to which we were introduced by our neighbors a few weeks after we moved to the Cool Water Ranch in 1990. We went. It was terrible. We went numerous other times, always at the behest of friends--usually the parents of friends of our kids. The food was never good, and the service was even worse. But the outdoor tables and the live bands always kept the place packed.
Then the hurricanes messed the place up. And then the fire burned it to the ground. Then, almost suddenly, the new building went up and opened, about six months ago. Same owners and management. However, a conversation I had with owner Ryan Richard a couple of years ago led me to believe that he more or less agreed with my assessment of Friend's problems. I heard a mix of reports during the past few months, but never enough to make me try it again just yet.
Until today. I give MA her way, and there we are, as the typhoon blew around the raindrops in the grey sky.
[caption id="attachment_49356" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Buffalo oysters at Friends. [/caption]
We start with some fried oysters tossed with a lot of hot sauce butter and a blue cheese dressing. Buffalo oysters, they call them. These are very good. Mary Ann gets a shrimp and oyster platter--a favorite meal for her. The main elements are crisp, grease-free, hot, and otherwise good. It is of tremendous size for the price, enough for two people.
[caption id="attachment_49354" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Grilled wahoo.[/caption]
I have the fish special: grilled wahoo. A great fish, and the way it was seasoned looked good. But wahoo is notorious for its propensity to dry up to a toughness on the grill if left there too long--as the one did in its thicker parts. A short marinade in a mix of white wine, olive oil, Worcestershire, lemon juice and Tabasco would have taken care of that. So there is hope.
[caption id="attachment_49352" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Pumpkin cheesecake.[/caption]
The desserts were very good: a light pumpkin cheesecake and a rather heavy but tasty bread pudding.
The service staff is dramatically improved over what I remember. Indeed Helen--who served us as among her call customers at N'Tini's for years--is now on the staff at Friends.
We head home through the squalls. I can't go for a walk, so I take a long nap. Then I get back to work, and hope the power doesn't go out. The man says that we can expect seven or eight inches of rain in the next three days. That will fill the pit where Twinnery is buried with silt, and help the earth reclaim him. We're still thinking about him a lot, and the letters keep coming.
