Diary 12|10|14: The Wedding Festival Begins.

[title type="h5"]Wednesday, December 10, 2014. The Wedding Festival Begins.[/title] My son Jude and his soon-to-be bride often hang out with Brian and Joey, another guy-and-girl couple interested in finding and enjoying good restaurants. Especially Brian, who when he learned that the nuptials would take place not in L.A. but in LA, began agitating for a dinner at Commander's Palace for the entire twelve-strong California contingent of celebrants. I tried to arrange a table for this crowd at Commander's. But tables that big are hard to come by on short notice this time of year. Instead, I called the Pelican Club. It's also a five-star restaurant, and with the power of their Reveillon--the best holiday menu in town, by quite a bit--not even the most exacting of palates would find it wanting. And they did have room for us. But Brian had read so much about Commander's that he couldn't resist arriving a day early just so he could eat there. Jude and Suzanne would be there, of course. I invited myself and made the reservation for five. (Mary Ann, as much as she likes Commander's, had so many wedding projects in her hands that she begged off.) Commander's co-owner Ti Martin got wind of our coming and set aside a particularly good table for us, next to the windows in the Garden Room. When she came up to say hello, I said she and Suzanne could be sisters. Same height, same slender figure, same hair color. Sort of. I felt that both girls thought I was nuts. I should have taken a picture. Speaking of Ti and photographs, in the newspaper today was an historic shot of her mother. Ella Brennan, the most revered and influential of all the Brennans, was depicted sitting at a table in Brennan's on Royal Street. It was the first time she'd been in the building since 1973, when the infamous split in the Brennan family occurred. This was no mere curiosity, but a record of a major moment in the annals of the New Orleans restaurant business. Ella was more responsible than anyone for the success of the original Brennan's, and for her to be cast out galled her infinitely. One can only imagine how satisfying it must have been for her to return to 417 Royal, smiling ear to ear with her nephew Ralph Brennan. Ralph was on Ella's side of the family during the exile. Now there is only one side, as far as the cooperative restaurants are concerned. [caption id="attachment_45866" align="alignnone" width="480"] Pork belly, etc.[/caption] That story is too long to hold the attention of the Los Angelenos, so we moved on. Brian was fascinated by Commander's "Chef's Playground" menu, even though neither Jude nor the ladies wanted to indulge to that degree. Brian and I came up with a strategy that sort of split the Playground between the two of us. We were the only ones getting excited about the likes of squab, turtle soup, and foie gras anyway. [caption id="attachment_45867" align="alignnone" width="480"] Foie gras, etc.[/caption] Not that the rest of the table was just putting up with the evening. About the only way you can not like Commander's and its premises, buzz, history, and service is if you don't really like eating in restaurants. Nobody here was canted that way, and in any case the anticipation of the events of three days hence set the mood. Of this there was no doubt: here is a couple which, after many months of living together, finds not only a pleasant, satisfying life, but close friends to help them live it. If I had any misgivings about the marriage (and I can't remember that I ever did), they were long ago dispelled by moments like this. [caption id="attachment_45868" align="alignnone" width="480"] Squab.[/caption] So, let's see what food was circulating. The turtle soup and the gumbo were big hits. (Jude is a gumbo fanatic.) The shrimp remoulade and the shrimp and tasso Henican, with its pepper-jelly sauce, were as fine as always. Brian and I split the squab, a big edge of pork belly, rabbit saltimbocca (!) and foie gras. The girls ate fish and a crabmeat and mushroom risotto. Jude was about to get a filet mignon, but at the last minute swerved to the shrimp special. [caption id="attachment_45865" align="alignnone" width="480"] The shrimp special.[/caption] Then the bake shop bombed us with desserts, including a strawberry shortcake (the real thing, with a sweet biscuit in place of the usual sponge cake, and the first Louisiana strawberries of the season), a creme brulee with a powdered-sugar fleur de lis, and bananas Foster. [caption id="attachment_45862" align="alignnone" width="389"] Bananas Foster.[/caption] [caption id="attachment_45861" align="alignnone" width="480"] Strawberry shortcake.[/caption] We drank two bottles of Alsace Riesling. These young adults aren't intense on wine yet, I knew, but it's hard to go wrong with dry French Riesling. As usual, trying to hunt this down on Commander's catalog-like wine list took awhile. Our party outlasted most of the others in the room. For Brian, the dinner had been as fascinating as he had imagined. From now on, there would be a major food and wine celebration every day until the newlyweds get on the plane to Paris, four days from now. [title type="h5"]Commander's Palace. Garden District: 1403 Washington Ave. 504-899-8221.[/title]