Saturday, October 29, 2016.
Broadcasting For Veterans @ Audubon Park.
A local organization that looks after disabled, elderly, and displaced military veterans is holding a fund-raising event today, and they've asked me to host my Saturday WWL show during it all. It's an interesting idea: The "Beer-And-Brat-Off." Ten chefs showed up with their house-made sausages. (They did not have to make strictly-defined bratwursts.) Meanwhile, brewmasters from ten local breweries (yes, we do have that many operating in full career here) show off some of their beers. My function was to interview the chefs and the brew guys on the radio, so they can get some publicity for their helpfulness. As always at culinary events like this, the chefs and beer guys absorb all their costs, so the charity can get the maximum.
All of these beer-and-sausage guys have interesting items to show off. For some reason, a lot of chefs get a kick out of making their own cured and smoked meat specialties. It was a beautiful day, and bands showed up to add a festival-like environment.
There is, however, one problem, which I can illustrate by mentioning the location of the party: Audubon Park Shelter 10. While everybody knows where Audubon Park is, and perhaps even its history as first the sugar plantation of Etienne DeBore, the first mayor of New Orleans, who also revolutionized the sugar industry with a new technique of granulating. After that, the park was the site of the 1884 World Exposition.
But what and where is "Shelter 10"? It shows up on no maps. I search online for an hour before I find it. In case it ever turns up in readers' lives, it's just to the right of the Audubon Golf Club as you enter the park from Magazine Street and drive away from the river.
I leave home about an hour early to give myself time to look for Shelter 10. That proves enough time enough for me to fit in breakfast before going to the Shelter. Mary Ann has all this calculated, and even calls our friends Doug and Karen Swift to join us for bacon and eggs at the Runway Café, in the terminal building at Lakefront Airport.
Readers and listeners have been reporting on the goodness of this food service since it reopened a couple of years ago. It's under the management of the Messina family, which handles a number of other food operations--notably the food at Zephyr Field.
It's quite a large menu, beginning with a brunch-level assortment of poached, sauced egg concoctions, a wide range of omelettes, and the usual pancakes and such. At midday it evolves into a lunch menu, with the classic array of neighborhood-restaurant eats--poor boys, red beans, seafood platters, gumbo, and daily specials. I have a frittata-style omelette, with ham and cheese and fried potatoes and a few other ingredients. The most interesting item before me is a buttermilk biscuit made with sweet potatoes, which tastes as good as it looks. (And it is quite appealing.)
I hang out as long as I can, since I still don't know just where Shelter 10 is. It turned out not to be all that obscure. I see it just after a man conducting traffic (he is holding spaces for members of the golf club) tells me to work my way back through the not-inconsiderable traffic to Magazine Street, where I would find many places to park. Well, I need the walk anyway. And it's still a beautiful, cool day.
Almost all of the three-hour show is given over to the chefs and the brewers, all of whom have good stories to tell. They are a little disappointed by the turnout, and we agree it would have been better if the bash had been held in a familiar location.
My appetite for the day is sated by the sausages. I didn't hear who won the contest, but I would have given the award to NOLA (Emeril's second restaurant) if I were given a vote.
At home, I find that Mary Ann has gone kayaking. She runs into one problem: she forgets to take her kayak to the lake with her. And she tells me I'm absent minded. Later, she turns up hungry. After all, she hadn't been surrounded by freshly-made sausages all afternoon. (If she had, she would also be full, as I am. She is a big fan of the sausage-makers' arts.)
We have dinner at La Carreta, currently the Fitzmorris family and friends' default restaurant (unless I am not included in the meal, in which case the honors go to the mediocre Chimes). We get the usual dishes, but no boat of chorizo queso. I continue to believe that the best item on the menu at La Carreta is that cup of bean soup with little slivers of sausage and ham floating around.
It's been a very busy day. Tomorrow will be busier still.
