[title type="h5"]Saturday, May 17, 2014.
A Long Ride On A Bunch Of Bayous. Then An Atomic Burger.
[/title]
Chuck Billeaud invites us to the Broussard, Louisiana headquarters of his family's corporation, which celebrates a hundred years in business today. Aside from being the dad of two girls--classmates of our Mary Leigh--Chuck is chairman of the board of an enterprise that began by growing sugar cane in the vast fertile prairie south of Lafayette. Oil was discovered under the canefields, and that shifted the company's interests. In recent years it moved its focus again into real estate. The growth of Lafayette requires lots of lots for malls, offices, and industrial uses, and the Billeaud Company has plenty to lease.
It's a good party on a very pleasant day. A big tent has a Cajun band playing while the usual bayou refreshments circulate. I stay busy talking to some two dozen people who engage me in conversation about my Topic A. Mary Ann does the same thing, but with different people who have much to say on her favorite subject: politics. I keep my distance and stick to food.
Among the people I know here is fellow food writer Marcelle Bienvenu. Her best-known book is Who's Your Mama, Are You Catholic, and Can You Make A Roux?, but she's done a lot of other good stuff, notably co-authoring what I think is Emeril's best cookbook, Real & Rustic. She teaches in Nicholls State University's superb culinary program these days. I've known Marcelle since I was a college student myself. Our paths have crossed many times, most notably when she and Dick Brennan, Sr. and I held a ten-year series of monthly dinners a trois at Commander's Palace during the reigns of Emeril and Jamie Shannon. If I had been keeping a journal like this during those times, the reports on those dinners would have made a great book.
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The Billeaud Company's old safe. Rumors that boudin is aged inside are false.[/caption]
The main office of the Billeaud outfit has its own connection with Marcelle. She operated a restaurant in the very building in the 1970s. The place still looks sort of like a restaurant. It has a bar, for example. But that would be more or less normal in Cajun Country, wouldn't it?
When the party begins winding down, Mary Ann and I head back to town via US 90. It's a good deal longer than the I-10 route, but much more interesting. I haven't been that way by car in a long time (although the Sunset Limited train takes more or less the same corridor.
She even lets me drive--until she gets tired of not being in control. The weather remains beautiful.
As we cross the Huey P. Long Bridge, MA says she's hungry, and suggests a stop at Atomic Burger. She's been once and liked it. The premises are in a too-modern strip mall space, with long bars with stools instead of tables or booths. (I'm seeing this a lot lately, as the fast-food business continues milking bigger numbers out of their properties.
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Stand back! This is an Atomic Burger.[/caption]
The burger is unusual in that the meat patty is so loosely packed that it comes close to falling apart. Neither of us can decided whether we like that. On the other hand, we both remember having had something like this in the past. The fries are fresh-cut and well above average.
The atomic aspect of the place involves the way they serve ice cream. They pour a mix into a glass, then shove a hose pushing liquid nitrogen through the creamy stuff. This freezes it immediately. I found it good enough, but what will they do when the novelty wears off? Or will there by a Space Age Trick Du Jour?
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[title type="h5"]Sunday, May 18, 2014.
A Taxing Day.[/title]
Dogs are an endless entertainment. Now that Barry and Susie no longer take hours-long treks on the rural roads around the Cool Water Ranch (we have finally fenced them in) they look forward to joining me on my daily walk. They get excited, in fact, so much that they start mock-attacking and racing one another, as if there were a limited quantity of running around with Daddy. Are they showing off to me which one has the most hyperactivity?
The Marys head into town to bid adieu to the last of The Boy's family, who fly back to Baltimore. For a graduation present, The Boy's parents gave him a (or, depending on how you pronounce the acronym, an) SUV. It's his first car, well used, but good-looking. Now he will not have to rely on Mary Leigh to do all the driving.
My entire food intake, aside from my standard breakfast, consists of the leftovers from Mother's Day. News of this later thrills Mary Ann to the point that she almost makes a move on me.
On a less lovely note: I have an extension for my tax return, but I owe a pretty good number to the IRS this year, and I'd better get on the job to keep the interest under control. There is no task in the world I find less pleasant than this. But once I get going I keep going, all day long, with only a break for a walk with the dogs and an hour-long nap to rest my eyes. Even in that, I can't escape the project: I dream the Feds are after me.
The health benefits of doing taxes are interesting. First, it kills your appetite, so you lose weight. Second, it relieves constipation.
[title type="h5"]
Monday, May 19, 2014.
Copeland's On A Bad Night.[/title]
Dogs are an endless entertainment. Now that Barry and Susie no longer take hours-long treks on the rural roads around the Cool Water Ranch (we have finally fenced them in) they look forward to joining me on my daily walk. They get so excited that they start mock-attacking and racing one another, as if there were a limited quantity of running around with Daddy. Are they showing off to me which one has the most hyperactivity?
The Marys bid adieu to the last of The Boy's family, as they return to Baltimore. For a graduation present, The Boy's parents gave him a (or, depending on how you pronounce the acronym, an) SUV. It's his first car, well used, but good-looking. Now he will not have to rely on Mary Leigh to do all the driving. He will put it through its paces next week when, his college days over, he moves out of the dorm and heads home--sort of. It's complicated, but somehow the Florida beaches and a bachelor party for a friend are involved.
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Sheepshead off the grill at Copeland's.[/caption]
To dinner with MA and I at Copeland's. I keep thinking that Copeland's--at least the one we mainly patronize, in Covington--is getting better. One interesting new development is its use of sheepshead for blackening and grilling. Both those dishes--typically made with redfish or black drum--have long been among the best eats at Copeland's. Using sheepshead is a great idea, because unlike the usual fish, it's wild caught. And despite the unappealing name, it's a great local fish.
Or it has been, lately. But not tonight. Overcooked and tepid fish, in a one-dimensional, buttery sauce. Underneath the fish are a bunch of soggy, limp vegetables. The red beans I asked for as a side were dessicated nearly to a solid, with way too much salt as a result. And when did Copeland's stop bringing out their great biscuits automatically? (Or did the waiter just forget?)
[caption id="attachment_42423" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Crabmeat and shrimp remoulade salad.[/caption]
Mary Ann had a shrimp and crabmeat remoulade salad, The crabmeat wasn't what I'd call the best around, but at least there was a lot of it--something that could not be said about the shrimp.
[caption id="attachment_42424" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Bananas Foster at Copeland's.[/caption]
One dish was an unarguable victory. When they serve bananas Foster here, they don't go through the flaming ritual at the table, but it's still as good as any I've had. And served in a bowl big enough to take care of four adults.
It is widely supposed--often by their managements--that chain eateries are more consistent than free-standing restaurants. My experience says otherwise.
Written by Tom Fitzmorris June 02, 2014 12:01 in
