Saturday, April 16, 2016.
No Crying. Lots Of Cooking And Eating.
We're at Jude and Suzanne's house by around eight a.m. The root-beer glazed ham is in the oven immediately. (I made the glaze yesterday afternoon). Jude's kitchen is very well equipped, but there is one problem with that: punching in the hi-tek oven parameters requires a minor degree in computer science. I need to ask my son's help even to make a minor adjustment.
The ham is not the same kind I usually use. There is no Chisesi ham in Los Angeles (or anywhere else outside the New Orleans area). I am baking a Boar's Head Black Forest smoked ham, which is fairly close to the Chisesi standard except in one matter: the Boar's Head is loaded with brine, which all but gushes out. This will no doubt change the amount of time I need to bake this thing. (A Chisesi ham, in contrast, is cured with a different method that doesn't require nearly as much brine.)
The ham was in good shape when it was time to head to the church of St. Francis de Sales. Jackson was cooperative in allowing the antique robe and hat to be clothed on him. Unlike his father Jude and his aunt Mary Leigh, he did not cry at the top of his lungs through all this and the ceremony, but allowed the chrism and the baptismal waters to be applied. I think the soft, soothing voice of the priest had a lot to do with that success.
Back to the house, where I find that the ham is at perfect interior temperature, having remained in the oven but with the heat turned off for the past hour. I commissioned Jude's friend Brian to carve the ham while I bake the shortcakes for the strawberries.
And then all the guests showed up. Thanks to Suzanne's mother Jo Ann and her crew of domestic helpers, the dining room and patio are beautifully set up with tablecloths and awnings to tame the sunlight. It is a wonderful setting for the guests.
I still have quite a bit to do. I boil about four pounds of shrimp, shutting off the heat a little early. After the shrimp cools, I toss them with my remoulade sauce, and let the highly-acidic sauce act kind of like ceviche marinade on the shrimp.
The remoulade sauce differs from my usual formula. It begins with the Creole mustard and chili sauce (about a half-cup of each), a tablespoon each of lemon juice, Worcestershire, and pureed garlic. The new wrinkle is about a fourth of a cup of mayonnaise. That makes this a hybrid of the red and white remoulade sauces. It emerged with an interesting golden color that looks very appealing. The guests, when they arrive, wipe out the shrimp so quickly that I never get a taste of it. But as long as people ask me how I made it, I'm happy.
The ham also disappears in record time. The strawberry shortcakes take a bit longer than I expect (that complex oven again). And there are many other desserts and two enormous platters of fresh fruit, all the generosity of Jo Ann.
Who had also brought in a crew of clean-up people. When the party ended after three hours, the place was sparkling. Only the last of the desserts remained to be cleaned up.
So Jackson is launched as a full-fledged Christian. Many of his relatives are Jewish, a datum that has no effect on the conversation, the eating, or anything else. I'm all for that. Christians ought to spend more quality time with Jews.
When Jackson re-enters his standard schedule of nursing, playing, and sleep, it's almost after dark. We leave the cute little boy to his doting parents, and the Marys, Dave and I retire to the hotel rooms at the Garland. We decide that, despite the enormous masses of food in which we spent the past few hours, we are hungry and thirsty enough for cocktails, at least. The Garland's bar has a Tiki air, and MA likes it enough that she actually had two tropical rum-and-fruit-juice drinks. She hardly ever has even one. The engaged couple decides this is a good idea, and they join us in drinks. The bar menu persuades us to add some snacks. too. We get some truffled, fresh-cut fries, which are good enough that we have another basket of them. I have two small tacos made with avocados and tuna tartare.
Mary Ann says that she likes this hotel, even though it's older and much less glitzy than her usual overnight accommodations. But it has two advantages: 1) its rates are far below those of the Langham, Beverly Hilton, and the like, and b) it's nearly within easy walking distance of Jude and Suzanne's place.
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Sunday, April 17, 2016.
Home For Me.
I'm up at seven Pacific. My flight leaves at ten minutes after ten. Jude says that if I leave at eight-thirty, everything will be fine--and even nine would work. He is wrong. We get caught in traffic on the way into town, after Mary Ann takes a longer route than she thought. The line for Spirit's check-in--even though I had a boarding pass in hand--took a half-hour to work through. When I get to the gate, they're on the third batch of passengers. But I have a reserved seat on the aisle. All is okay, and we blast off on time. The only food is Pringles (or so the attendant leads me to believe). Just a little turbulence south of Dallas. The plane arrives on time.
[caption id="attachment_51276" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Dooky Chase's at the airport.[/caption]
At Moisant, I decide that this is the perfect opportunity to sample the food at the Airport branch of Dooky Chase. I am served by a very friendly and effective waiter. When I ask for the fried chicken, but with a small cup of red beans and rice instead of the french fries, he makes a sympathetic face for a second. Then he decides in his mind that my request surely is no problem, and away he goes to put it in.
[caption id="attachment_51275" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Fried chicken and red beans at Dooky Chase's in the airport. [/caption]
I get two thighs and a wing. The crust is crunchy and just the right texture. I think the use more seasoning over at Miss Lea's flagship restaurant, but this is easily corrected. The red beans also could use more seasoning, but I guess that's a function of the kind of people one finds in airports.
[caption id="attachment_51274" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Bread pudding at Dooky Chase's at the airport.[/caption]
The best part of the meal is a brick of bread pudding with a very good and generous whiskey sauce. Would I like coffee? the server asks. Only if you have chicory, I say. I didn't think they would, and they don't.
The little bookstore across the atrium has a surprisingly large number of cookbooks for sale. That makes perfect sense. What better gift to bring home from a New Orleans vacation than a good Cajun-Creole cookbook? And guess whose cookbook I see on display? Five copies, all in good enough shape that they clearly have not been sitting there for months. I ask the clerk whether she'd like me to autograph them. She said she'd have to check with the manager, but he wasn't there. It is Sunday, after all.
That bookstore (Hudson's, just to the right of the security check-in for Concourse C) has always done a great job of keeping my book in a prominent display. That went very well with an envelope I found when I got home: a royalty check for Tom Fitzmorris's New Orleans Food, with a note from my agent saying that not many cookbooks stay in print as long as mine has.
I'm also happy to see the full animal staff at the Cool Water Ranch, and enough food in the feeders to show they have not gone hungry.
And then all the guests showed up. Thanks to Suzanne's mother Jo Ann and her crew of domestic helpers, the dining room and patio are beautifully set up with tablecloths and awnings to tame the sunlight. It is a wonderful setting for the guests.
I still have quite a bit to do. I boil about four pounds of shrimp, shutting off the heat a little early. After the shrimp cools, I toss them with my remoulade sauce, and let the highly-acidic sauce act kind of like ceviche marinade on the shrimp.
The remoulade sauce differs from my usual formula. It begins with the Creole mustard and chili sauce (about a half-cup of each), a tablespoon each of lemon juice, Worcestershire, and pureed garlic. The new wrinkle is about a fourth of a cup of mayonnaise. That makes this a hybrid of the red and white remoulade sauces. It emerged with an interesting golden color that looks very appealing. The guests, when they arrive, wipe out the shrimp so quickly that I never get a taste of it. But as long as people ask me how I made it, I'm happy.
The ham also disappears in record time. The strawberry shortcakes take a bit longer than I expect (that complex oven again). And there are many other desserts and two enormous platters of fresh fruit, all the generosity of Jo Ann.
Who had also brought in a crew of clean-up people. When the party ended after three hours, the place was sparkling. Only the last of the desserts remained to be cleaned up.
So Jackson is launched as a full-fledged Christian. Many of his relatives are Jewish, a datum that has no effect on the conversation, the eating, or anything else. I'm all for that. Christians ought to spend more quality time with Jews.
When Jackson re-enters his standard schedule of nursing, playing, and sleep, it's almost after dark. We leave the cute little boy to his doting parents, and the Marys, Dave and I retire to the hotel rooms at the Garland. We decide that, despite the enormous masses of food in which we spent the past few hours, we are hungry and thirsty enough for cocktails, at least. The Garland's bar has a Tiki air, and MA likes it enough that she actually had two tropical rum-and-fruit-juice drinks. She hardly ever has even one. The engaged couple decides this is a good idea, and they join us in drinks. The bar menu persuades us to add some snacks. too. We get some truffled, fresh-cut fries, which are good enough that we have another basket of them. I have two small tacos made with avocados and tuna tartare.
Mary Ann says that she likes this hotel, even though it's older and much less glitzy than her usual overnight accommodations. But it has two advantages: 1) its rates are far below those of the Langham, Beverly Hilton, and the like, and b) it's nearly within easy walking distance of Jude and Suzanne's place.
[divider type=""]
Dooky Chase's at the airport.[/caption]
At Moisant, I decide that this is the perfect opportunity to sample the food at the Airport branch of Dooky Chase. I am served by a very friendly and effective waiter. When I ask for the fried chicken, but with a small cup of red beans and rice instead of the french fries, he makes a sympathetic face for a second. Then he decides in his mind that my request surely is no problem, and away he goes to put it in.
[caption id="attachment_51275" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Fried chicken and red beans at Dooky Chase's in the airport. [/caption]
I get two thighs and a wing. The crust is crunchy and just the right texture. I think the use more seasoning over at Miss Lea's flagship restaurant, but this is easily corrected. The red beans also could use more seasoning, but I guess that's a function of the kind of people one finds in airports.
[caption id="attachment_51274" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Bread pudding at Dooky Chase's at the airport.[/caption]
The best part of the meal is a brick of bread pudding with a very good and generous whiskey sauce. Would I like coffee? the server asks. Only if you have chicory, I say. I didn't think they would, and they don't.
The little bookstore across the atrium has a surprisingly large number of cookbooks for sale. That makes perfect sense. What better gift to bring home from a New Orleans vacation than a good Cajun-Creole cookbook? And guess whose cookbook I see on display? Five copies, all in good enough shape that they clearly have not been sitting there for months. I ask the clerk whether she'd like me to autograph them. She said she'd have to check with the manager, but he wasn't there. It is Sunday, after all.
That bookstore (Hudson's, just to the right of the security check-in for Concourse C) has always done a great job of keeping my book in a prominent display. That went very well with an envelope I found when I got home: a royalty check for Tom Fitzmorris's New Orleans Food, with a note from my agent saying that not many cookbooks stay in print as long as mine has.
I'm also happy to see the full animal staff at the Cool Water Ranch, and enough food in the feeders to show they have not gone hungry.
