Monday, March 7, 2016.
Pontchartrain Po-Boy (Cheeseburger); Red Beans On The Side.
It's a very pretty day, a prospect darkened by an approaching several days of extreme winds, lightning, and rain later in the week. I might change the name of our home to the Cool Water Wetlands.
Mary Ann calls from twenty minutes away to broach the matter of lunch. My first suggestion scores: Pontchartrain Po-Boys, one of the very best on the North Shore, and the whole area, if you ask me. The place is nearly full when we arrive. But the lady ahead of us in line has such a complex order that by the time we order, we have our choice of tables.[caption id="attachment_36720" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Hamburger with onions and a little gravy @ Pontchartrain Po-Boys.[/caption]
We are surprised by the daily special: a soft-shell crab platter with a dozen fried shrimp on the side and a cup of gumbo--for $15 (!). Where have soft-shells come from all of a sudden? Everybody had been telling me lately that there are none to be had, courtesy of the opening of the spillway a few weeks ago. Now even poor boy shops have them.
How lucky we are. Even in upscale restaurants in most parts of America, soft-shell crabs are a prized delicacy, rarely available.
I love the roast beef here and the fried seafood too, but it's my job to sample all parts of a menu. I see a note to the effect that the hamburgers are made by hand in house. That's usually a good sign, and it is here. I have the double burger on French bread with the usual dressings, plus extra pickles, mustard and thinly sliced raw onions. And a spoonful of roast beef gravy. Good and more filling than I really had in mind. So why did I also ask for a cup of red beans and rice? Other than that it's Monday? And that Mary Ann is asking me where my red beans are? Sometimes she knows more about my habits than I do.
The radio show is a little sluggish today. Everybody must be out walking their dogs. When the program ends, I'm off to NPAS rehearsal, as we keep punching away at doo-wop songs like "Duke Of Earl," "Lipstick On Your Collar," "Only You," and all the rest. Looks like there's not going to be any place for my rendition of " Only Have Eyes For You," but my visit to Jude and his family killed that. One can't do everything.
Speaking of my grandson: Jude sent a photo today that shows Jackson with an ear to ear smile, the first one I've seen. It transforms his personality. I'd display it here, but Jude's prohibition of my publishing photos of the baby boy are still in force.
Pontchartrain Po-Boys. Mandeville: 318 Dalwill Dr. 985-626-8188.
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Tuesday, March 2016.
Rib Room Revisited.
Some months ago, Chef Tom Wolfe returned to town after stints at a number of restaurants, mostly on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. He is now running the kitchens of one of the most portentous restaurants in town, the Rib Room at the Royal Orleans Hotel. For most of its 65-year history, the Rib Room has been treated by New Orleanians with the same respect given to places like Antoine's and Galatoire's. The Friday lunch crowd was for many years at least the equal of any other meeting place. But a succession of indifferent managers and chefs during the past twenty years or so stripped the Rib Room of much of its magic and many of its regular customers.
Tom Wolfe is certainly capable of restoring the Rib Room's luster. He's a local guy who spent the requisite time with Emeril/John Besh/the Brennans (choose one). He operated his own restaurants in a number of venues, beginning with a little place in West End and ending after Katrina at the former Peristyle/Marti's.
It's been long enough since I had Wolfe food that I cast all the memories of the above into the non-current bin. Mary Ann and I both find the Rib Room's menu very appealing. The prime ribs of beef are still there, of course, but their existence is only hinted at by a box at the top of the menu. This is advice well-taken, because prime ribs of beef--the restaurant's namesake and its best known dish--have long been among the least interesting parts of the menu. Not to mention that prime rib is an entree from the time machine set on the sixties or seventies. If you love it, you love it, but the rotisserie dishes, the seafood, and almost everything else is better.
We get off to an auspicious start. The Negroni cocktail demonstrates that the legendary generosity of the Rib Room's bartenders is still in force. Loaves of hot French bread come. But no amuse-bouche, a course that we have come to expect in three-figures-for-two-people restaurants).
[caption id="attachment_50904" align="alignnone" width="464"]
Fried oysters with creamed spinach.[/caption]
Mary Ann takes a long time choosing between barbecue shrimp (which looked great at a nearby table) and poached oysters with creamed spinach and feta cheese. She gets the latter, and finds it exceptionally good, as do I. But it's not quite as fine as the turtle soup. This is one of the best versions I've had lately. (And I seem to be finding many great turtle soups these days.)
[caption id="attachment_50906" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Shepherd's pie made with prime rib @ the Rib Room.[/caption]
MA's entree is something she loves: shepherd's pie. We know better than to expect that it will be like the dish in school cafeterias. Especially in this restaurant, which ends most days with a surplus of unserved but perfectly fine prime ribs. Why not use this expensive meat to make shepherd's pie? Makes sense to me. But the beef in this homely old dish needs either to be falling part from long, slow cooking or to be chopped up. What we get instead are big chunks of steak in a sauce reminiscent of boeuf bourguignonne, with a levee of pureed parsnips (which look a lot like mashed potatoes). The melted Cheddar cheese is so sharp in its flavors that MA says it tastes like blue cheese.
My entree is billed as bouillabaisse, but is more like cioppino, with a rather large pile of pasta in the center and substantial chunks of shrimp, fish (cobia, I think), scallops, and andouille. Andouille? In a seafood stew? The menu notes that fennel--a classic ingredient in bouillabaisse--is in there, but neither sense of eye nor palate can find it. Saving the day is the fish broth, which is very good.
Mary Ann passes on dessert, as always. I get the bread pudding, billed as flavored with cinnamon. That's certainly the taste I like in bread pudding. But it's a king-cake bread pudding, kind of like a cupcake. Too late in the year for such a thing.
Except for the few fine points above, we are both pleased with the dinner. The Rib Room is a romantic kind of place in the old style. Its possibilities have not been explored by many locals. I hope Tom Wolfe can make it happen again.
Rib Room. French Quarter: 621 St Louis St. 504-529-7045.
Hamburger with onions and a little gravy @ Pontchartrain Po-Boys.[/caption]
We are surprised by the daily special: a soft-shell crab platter with a dozen fried shrimp on the side and a cup of gumbo--for $15 (!). Where have soft-shells come from all of a sudden? Everybody had been telling me lately that there are none to be had, courtesy of the opening of the spillway a few weeks ago. Now even poor boy shops have them.
How lucky we are. Even in upscale restaurants in most parts of America, soft-shell crabs are a prized delicacy, rarely available.
I love the roast beef here and the fried seafood too, but it's my job to sample all parts of a menu. I see a note to the effect that the hamburgers are made by hand in house. That's usually a good sign, and it is here. I have the double burger on French bread with the usual dressings, plus extra pickles, mustard and thinly sliced raw onions. And a spoonful of roast beef gravy. Good and more filling than I really had in mind. So why did I also ask for a cup of red beans and rice? Other than that it's Monday? And that Mary Ann is asking me where my red beans are? Sometimes she knows more about my habits than I do.
The radio show is a little sluggish today. Everybody must be out walking their dogs. When the program ends, I'm off to NPAS rehearsal, as we keep punching away at doo-wop songs like "Duke Of Earl," "Lipstick On Your Collar," "Only You," and all the rest. Looks like there's not going to be any place for my rendition of " Only Have Eyes For You," but my visit to Jude and his family killed that. One can't do everything.
Speaking of my grandson: Jude sent a photo today that shows Jackson with an ear to ear smile, the first one I've seen. It transforms his personality. I'd display it here, but Jude's prohibition of my publishing photos of the baby boy are still in force.
Fried oysters with creamed spinach.[/caption]
Mary Ann takes a long time choosing between barbecue shrimp (which looked great at a nearby table) and poached oysters with creamed spinach and feta cheese. She gets the latter, and finds it exceptionally good, as do I. But it's not quite as fine as the turtle soup. This is one of the best versions I've had lately. (And I seem to be finding many great turtle soups these days.)
[caption id="attachment_50906" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Shepherd's pie made with prime rib @ the Rib Room.[/caption]
MA's entree is something she loves: shepherd's pie. We know better than to expect that it will be like the dish in school cafeterias. Especially in this restaurant, which ends most days with a surplus of unserved but perfectly fine prime ribs. Why not use this expensive meat to make shepherd's pie? Makes sense to me. But the beef in this homely old dish needs either to be falling part from long, slow cooking or to be chopped up. What we get instead are big chunks of steak in a sauce reminiscent of boeuf bourguignonne, with a levee of pureed parsnips (which look a lot like mashed potatoes). The melted Cheddar cheese is so sharp in its flavors that MA says it tastes like blue cheese.
My entree is billed as bouillabaisse, but is more like cioppino, with a rather large pile of pasta in the center and substantial chunks of shrimp, fish (cobia, I think), scallops, and andouille. Andouille? In a seafood stew? The menu notes that fennel--a classic ingredient in bouillabaisse--is in there, but neither sense of eye nor palate can find it. Saving the day is the fish broth, which is very good.
Mary Ann passes on dessert, as always. I get the bread pudding, billed as flavored with cinnamon. That's certainly the taste I like in bread pudding. But it's a king-cake bread pudding, kind of like a cupcake. Too late in the year for such a thing.
Except for the few fine points above, we are both pleased with the dinner. The Rib Room is a romantic kind of place in the old style. Its possibilities have not been explored by many locals. I hope Tom Wolfe can make it happen again.
