Saturday, November 5, 2016.
A Quiet Evening (!) At Meribo.
Our friends the Fowlers joined Mary Ann and me for dinner at Meribo, the with-it Italian café in old Covington. Mary Ann is wild about this place, and compares it with Bottega Louie in Los Angeles, which she says is her favorite restaurant of any kind anywhere. In our cogitation about whether we'll go to Meribo, I don't have to bring up the matter of the noise level--MA does it for me.
But some changes are under way, in a new outdoor dining area where I am sure we will be regular customers once the alfresco aspect is done and ready.
But we get a surprise tonight. Meribo is neither full nor noisy, but almost empty. The explanation is simple: there's a big LSU football game tonight, and that affects all restaurants in the New Orleans area negatively.
We begin with a pizza, as we always do at Meribo. This one is a yin-yang: half all-meat, the other half no-meat. Both sides are jazzed up with a very spicy topping, which all four of us enjoy. The pizza's thin crust is also appealing, and we get a second pie, this one with a mushroom topping.
Meanwhile, other food arrives. Mary Ann has the black iron skillet in which mozzarella cheese is both melted and encrusted to blackness. I don't understand this, and apparently neither did MA.
My entree is the porchetta, an item I've thought about ordering since my first stop at Meribo. It's a slab of pork cooked with what appears to be layers of seasonings. In fact, this is essentially a slow-roasted pork belly. I never did develop a taste for pork belly, even when it was very much in vogue. (Or perhaps because of that.) I was halfway through it when MA asked if she could try some of this belly. I don't think it will change my mind, but this is the most gratifying pork belly that ever came my way.
For dessert, tiramisu. The flavors are right, but the presentation is unusual: the layers of cake, espresso, whipped cream and chocolate are in a glass. Hmm. It had the texture of a very soft bread pudding. Rich and good. Maybe too rich.
Meribo. Covington: 326 N. Lee Lane. 985-302-5533.
[divider type=""]
Sunday, November 6, 2016.
An Impossible Gig.
While at St. Jane's, I see a notice in the parish bulletin asking for substitute cantors at Mass. Ah! Another venue for singing. But the regular rehearsal time is in conflict with the last hour of the radio show. So much for that.
A fund-raising event called "Men Who Cook" makes its annual appearance at the St. Tammany Parish Courthouse, on the roof of its parking garage. I have been a judge of this for a few years now. The competition has amateur male cooks (at some point, I'm sure they'll have to include women) paired with cooks from fourteen local restaurants and two high schools with culinary programs. The other judges are Poppy Tooker and an officer wearing a badge. All three of us try all of the dishes.
The food was better than I expected. I didn't need to add charity points to the entries. Some of the concoctions were not only excellent but original, while at the same time keeping a Creole/Cajun quality. Only three dishes strayed from the local flavor palette.
While the attendees sampled the food, a very good band whose specialty is music of the late sixties--right in the middle of my high school years, and therefore treasured in my memory. The band's leader spotted me and asked if I'd like to do a song. Sure! How about "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." I usually knock this out with a powerful falsetto, but I don't have that resource available tonight.
[divider type=""]
Monday, November 7, 2016.
Acme For Beans. Tough Day In The Office.
I don't see Mary Ann all day. She is thriving on the election, when most of us are about done with it. She should have been in politics.
I have a backlog of writing, with articles due for Inside New Orleans magazine and CityBusiness. I also have about five radio commercials to write and record. In other words, I never get away from my desk all day. But then again, it's rained most of the day, enough to flood some spots in town.
I have a late lunch at the Acme Oyster House, where I have not been lately. Red beans and rice with hot sausage and a salad. A scoop of ice cream for dessert.
My falsetto voice is still not back, and I find the NPAS rehearsal difficult to slough through. But I sound better than usual in the radio show. The two voices are different, and when one is right on, the other is often way off.