December 13, 2016.
The Eat Club Gala: Sparse, But Terrific.
Some night in the 1990s, the Eat Club had a dinner at Brennan's on Royal Street to sample the Reveillon menu at Brennan's that year. The Brennan brothers built a much better feast for us than we were expecting. About eighteen of us occupied the Gold Room on the second floor. It was a unique space, with one very large round table and a chandelier that once was illuminated by gaslight.
This was in the early years of the Eat Club, and the full possibilities of having my radio listeners and readers joining me for dinner had not yet been fully explored. It would shortly be almost insanely popular--forty or fifty people every week. When there was something like the Reveillon going on, we would find ourselves having two or three dinners a week. I was in my forties, and well capable of eating like this every day.
At the end of that first dinner in the Gold Room, one of the attendees--I think it was Carl, the Gourmet River Pilot--said, "We ought to do this during the holidays every year!" Everybody agreed with this, and indeed we began a series of dinners during every Reveillon season until the Royal Street Brennans lost control of their restaurant in 2012. By that time, our annual dinner had grown into a fifty-guest black-tie gala for over $100 per person and some spectacular wines from the late Jimmy Brennan's vaunted cellar.
For three years, the Eat Club Gala continued to occur, but in new locations--twice at the now extinct and very good (until until its manager Danny Millan left) La Foret.
We missed two years because of Brennan's troubles. But even when we couldn't make the dinner happen, the Eat Clubbers continued to call me to reserve spots for the next year. Only weeks after Brennan's reopened in 2014, our Yuletide feasts resumed. That night, it was only the fifty Eat Clubbers in the whole building.
So all was well. Until this year. I don't know why, but we couldn't light a fire under the Gala. The reservations peaked out at about twenty-five. Then came cancellations. By December 13, we had but fifteen diners. I was disturbed and mystified. The only real problem we had to face was that we didn't get the menu until late in the schedule. The price was high ($150 inclusive) , but it had not moved for six years.
As it turned out, I needn't have worried. The most credible reason for the dip is that too many people were spending too many hours mulling over the election returns. When our fifteen showed up, they were a happy bunch. Many of the diners were on the young side. The men wore their tuxedos at my behest, and we looked like an affluent group at the least.
And the food and wine were first-rate.
We were in the same room where our first two New Brennan's dinners had been. It originally bore the name Pineapple Room. Now it's the King's Room, at the top of the stairs and overlooking the courtyard for a kind of balcony. Beautiful.
One thing went wrong at the beginning. When describing our needs to the lady in charge of our group, I told her that people show up early and have cocktails downstairs at the bar on their nickel before dinner. When we sit down, the wines start flowing as part of the package.
But tonight there was a cash bar set up especially for us in the King's Room. Even though this made no big difference in what our diners spent, it didn't feel right. I will ask the management not to do that next year.
From that moment on, everything was magic. Chef Slade Rushing came up to schmooze with us before the dinner began. The amuse bouche was a marvelous dish of crabmeat poached in butter, served in an eggshell with mushrooms and turnips, all soft and wonderfully rich. For such a little dish, it had everyone mmm-mming.
The first major course was a salad of baby chicory leaves. It looked funny on the plate but the scattering of blue cheese and a satsuma vinaigrette made it all but flash with bitterness, spice, and sweetness. This came with as dry a Vouvray as I can remember ever drinking.
The third course was made with a duck egg described as being "shirred." That word is usually reserved for eggs baked in some kind of cup, but this egg was running free range over the plate, with help from Cheddar cheese from Georgia. The main point, of course, was to illuminate the importance of the egg at Brennan's, and to be the first duck egg most of us had encountered. (Attendees at last year's Gala already had the experience.)
[caption id="attachment_53379" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Duck egg.[/caption]
Fourth course: a variant on bouillabaisse, made with drumfish, shrimp and crabmeat, all washed over by a nage--an aromatic, well flavored stock which, when other things are added to it, multiply the flavor sensations. This one had a little Herbsaint liqueur. It was named for Paul Blange, the first star chef at Brennan's.
[caption id="attachment_53380" align="alignnone" width="480"]
A variation on bouillabaisse.[/caption]
Course the fifth: A rack of lamb. Four chops. Served rare. The more lamb I eat, the more convinced I am that lamb is not at its best flavor or texture served rare. Even medium rare might be too little cooked. Chefs like rare meats, and they assume everyone does. If you ask me, rare is good for beef, not so for most other red meats.
[caption id="attachment_53381" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Rare lamb chops.[/caption]
However, this was helped along by(get this) a bearnaise sauce in which rendered lamb fat stood in for butter. That saved the dish for me.
The wine served with this was the best of the evening. It's a Cabernet blend grown in the Bekaa Valley in Lebanon. Bekaa Valley is probably better know for warfare than for wine, but this is where wine as we know it was first made. Tonight, the big red had a lovely balance and a great finish. (Its name is Chateau Musa.)
By this time, most of the Eat Clubbers had met and were deep in conversation--a lot of it about how good they though the food was. Mary Ann, who rarely comes to Eat Club events, was having a fine time. She is a good conversationalist that people take a liking to more than, say, me.
[caption id="attachment_53383" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Chocolate creme brulee, surmounted with a satsuma confit, on which a hairy feature puts one in the mind of a recent election.[/caption]
Dessert was a creme brulee flavored with chocolate. Not my kind of thing--I say custards should be about vanilla, usually. Chocolate should be chocolate. Also on the plate was a satsuma confit. First time I've heard those two words together.
The dessert wine was offbeat and perfect for the occasion, the weather, and the seasons. Madeira was the favorite wine of our Founding Fathers. (I mean Washington and Jefferson, not the Brennans.) It was the degree of sweetness called "Bual," which is about in the middle. The alcohol of a port wine is here. Madeira has a lot in common with port, especially tawnies. Love the stuff. Nice surprise.
The Eat Club was as pleased with the dinner as they had ever been. Somehow, I made it home before Mary Ann did, and she's a speed demon. I must have been happy.
Brennan's. French Quarter: 417 Royal. 504-525-9711.
