Wednesday, December 14, 2016.
The Annual Freezing Turn Into The Bon Ton.
In early December 1974, I knocked off work after another long day redesigning and reprogramming New Orleans Magazine, of which I had just been named editor. It was a windy, freezing night, paper blowing around and occasionally slamming into my face. My car was parked on a side street in what was still a decade away from becoming the Warehouse District. Tonight, it was lonely and spooky.
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The front door of the Bon Ton Cafe, and its gas lamps.[/caption]
And then I was standing in front of the Bon Ton Café, a block and a half from the magazine's offices. Two gas lamps illuminated the entrance. I stole a look inside and it looked warm and cozy, full of happy people. The perfect place to have dinner. So I did.
Something about that scenario stayed with me. When the cold weather descends, if I remember and have the time, I return to the Bon Ton to remember that evening again. In the last few years, Mary Ann has joined me for this ritual. She rolls her eyes and cuts me off as I begin telling the waiter the story behind my being there.
This year, our daughter Mary Leigh wanted to join us. But she has a problem: she doesn't eat seafood, and the only regular menu items at the Bon Ton that are not seafood are its steaks and salads. She had a salad.
The weather wasn't perfect for my reminiscences tonight. Tomorrow, it would be really cold and perhaps even desolate. Even so, there are too many restaurants, hotels, and people walking around for it to be hostile.
We have a standard Bon Ton dinner. We start with an amuse bouche of fried catfish and crawfish. Then salad, and seafood gumbo. For me, it's redfish Bon Ton, a simple proposition: pan-sauteed fish (drumfish, rarely redfish) with a pile of crabmeat on top, all in a butter sauce. Nothing much ever changes here, and of that I am happy.
Bon Ton Cafe. CBD: 401 Magazine. 504-524-3386.
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Thursday, December 15,2016.
Hallelujah! Pizza With The Cellist.
Mary Ann has become a big fan of all the musicial societies that perform in the Orpheum Theater, the home of the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra. Tonight is the annual performance of Handel's Messiah. Through the intercession of Daniel Lelchuk, the second-chair cellist with the LPO, MA gets tickets that will put our chairs on the actual stage itself. I am sitting behind two of the violinists. I ask one of them if I can help by turning pages. I'm glad she got a laugh out of that. If she had said yes (there was zero chance of that's happening), I would actually have attempted to take that job, in which I would quickly demonstrate that I am a terrible sight-reader.
Being up there with the musicians playing right in front of our eyes was a thrill. Later, I discovered that two people in NPAS were singing--one of them with the Symphony Chorus, the other
doing soprano solos. She is Alissa Rowe, NPAS's conductor and music boss. All the soloists were excellent, but she stands above the others, perfect all night long. She saw me there, which I figure is good for a few brownie points when NPAS starts up again in the New Year.
In the performance, the dramatic final movement sends shivers up and down our spines. No wonder people come to see and listen to this every year.
After the performance, I track down Daniel, the Gourmet Cellist. The Marys invite him to join us for dinner across the street and through the Christmas lobby of the Roosevelt Hotel at Dominica.
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Calabresi pizza at Domenica.[/caption]
Daniel places a brilliant order, but he doesn't have two picky women to please. He starts with a barrel-aged Negroni cocktail. That's new to me--the aging, I mean. Negronis are actually my favorite cocktails. It was an interesting flavor. It also went well with the mortadella pizza. That's not something I ever would have ordered--mortadella being a lot like bologna. It turned out delicious.
The Marys have the same pizzas as last time: Calabresi and Campanelle. Also on the table is a variation on pasta Carbonara, which ML says is not as good as it was last time (two weeks ago). ML would make a great restaurant critic if she opened to more kinds of food.
And then the three of us head off in different directions. The Marys go to ML's apartment, and MA spends the night there. I ride home alone. I'm glad I dumped most of the triple Sazerac that the Orpheum's bartender overpoured for me.
Domenica. CBD: 123 Baronne (Roosevelt Hotel). 504-648-6020.
