Tuesday, May 31, 2016.
Another Delicious Mound Of Eats @ Mrs. Ed's Oyster House.
An inordinate number of restaurants are closed on Tuesday night. Some of these are places open on Monday night, a more common off day. Unlike in the case of Monday night closers, you never quite expect a restaurant to be dark on Tuesdays.
Either that, or I have a way of thinking of those restaurant when I'm looking for Tuesday dinner. Three such are Dante's Kitchen, the Peppermill, and the Taj Mahal--all of which were not waiting for me when I tried them during the last few months of Tuesdays.
[caption id="attachment_51665" align="alignnone" width="480"]
The back dining room at Mr. Ed's Oyster Bar in Metairie.[/caption]
Tonight, this effect brought me to Mr. Ed's Oyster Bar and Fish House for the second time in a month. The Metairie location, formerly Bozo's for some thirty-five years, is now one of three. The essence of Bozo's cooking is still here, but owner Ed McIntyre tripled the length of the menu to include about a half-dozen more or less new oyster dishes, some well-dressed fish dishes in the style of the local Creole bistros, and all the major local seafood classics.
I launch the dinner with six oysters in the style of Drago's grilled oysters, but with some jalapeno in the garlic butter. A salad follows to slake the mild but pleasant glow of the pepper.
The entree is piled high, a hallmark of Mr. Ed's restaurants. The platter centers on a big fillet of puppy drum, with roasted potatoes, green beans, butter sauce, and a stripe of white crabmeat across the fish. It's all hot out of the kitchen and crisp where appropriate. A little too crisp, I'd say, but a long way from dry. The little roasted potatoes need some enhancement.
The waitress talks me into lemon ice box pie at the end of all this. It tastes more like a cheesecake to me, but that is not a bad thing. This lady served me last time too. Very cheerful and joking around, which I like in a server.
Mr. Ed's Oyster Bar & Fish Grill. Metairie: 3117 21st St. 504-833-6310.
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Wednesday, June 1, 2016.
The Acme For Oyster-Haters.
My love of oysters evidences itself in occasional stretches during which I eat them every day. I should have remembered yesterday that I would be at the Acme Oyster House today. My sister Judy and her daughter Holly had a meeting with Judy's financial professionals. who are handling the paperwork born of the passing last month of her husband. It took hours to go through it all, but everything seems to be in good shape.
I suggest we lunch at La Carreta, just for something different. But Holly doesn't go for Mexican. How about the Acme? Sure, they say. But when it comes time to order, both the girls say they don't like oysters.
They get crab cakes and a salad. I have a half-dozen raw, followed by oysters remoulade--fried oysters with a small cup of pinkish remoulade sauce. I think this dish is on the menu to use up the small oysters that come the Acme's way. The raw ones were enormous and very good.
Lunch eaten, I strike out for the radio station. I get there early enough to take a fifteen-minute nap on the floor of my office. Some people on the staff think it's funny that I do this, but I am convinced it makes me sparkle a little more reliably on the air with the nap than without. I'm proud of my ability to konk out for such a brief interlude. But I can touch the painter Salvadore Dale, who used to boast of his one-second naps. Seated in a chair, he held a coin in his hanging hand, positioned over a saucer. When he fell asleep, the coin would fall into the saucer and awaken him--a second later. It wouldn't suit me.
Thursday, June 2, 2016.
Dress Rehearsal.
Tonight is the last rehearsal for the NPAS concert tomorrow night. I do the radio show at home, in the middle of a lashing thunderstorm with some near-hits of lightning. When I get to the theater, I see running water crossing the road. I manage to dodge it, and find what looks like a good parking spot. It wasn't. In my attempt to leave in the dark later, I came very close to driving into a ditch. A few more inches, and my beloved Beetle would be stuck, maybe flipped.
The songs are still far from implanted in my brain. In the very beautiful song Shenandoah, I lose my place in the music by the second page turn. Every single time. I never find it until the end of the song. Too many other big things going on in the rest of my life, career, family, and pets. I look forward to the day when I can give singing the attention I'd like to.
Earlier in the day, MA and I have lunch at Pontchartrain Po-Boys in Mandeville, a great place for the namesake sandwiches. But I thought I'd try some of their other dishes. They tell me that the eggplant parmigiana that I ask about is very good. What they don't say is that it was served to the absolute load limits of the plate. Which also had what looked like a half-pound of angel har pasta with red sauce. It was good, but I couldn't get through a third of it.
Caesar salad with fried shrimp for guess who.
Pontchartrain Po-Boys. Mandeville: 318 Dalwill Dr. 985-626-8188.
The back dining room at Mr. Ed's Oyster Bar in Metairie.[/caption]
Tonight, this effect brought me to Mr. Ed's Oyster Bar and Fish House for the second time in a month. The Metairie location, formerly Bozo's for some thirty-five years, is now one of three. The essence of Bozo's cooking is still here, but owner Ed McIntyre tripled the length of the menu to include about a half-dozen more or less new oyster dishes, some well-dressed fish dishes in the style of the local Creole bistros, and all the major local seafood classics.
I launch the dinner with six oysters in the style of Drago's grilled oysters, but with some jalapeno in the garlic butter. A salad follows to slake the mild but pleasant glow of the pepper.
The entree is piled high, a hallmark of Mr. Ed's restaurants. The platter centers on a big fillet of puppy drum, with roasted potatoes, green beans, butter sauce, and a stripe of white crabmeat across the fish. It's all hot out of the kitchen and crisp where appropriate. A little too crisp, I'd say, but a long way from dry. The little roasted potatoes need some enhancement.
The waitress talks me into lemon ice box pie at the end of all this. It tastes more like a cheesecake to me, but that is not a bad thing. This lady served me last time too. Very cheerful and joking around, which I like in a server.
