Tuesday, June 28, 2016.
Two Tonys, Another Tony.
I could fill a few hours with my tales of anxiety, almost all of which I can dismiss with a small amount of rational thought along the lines of "This too shall pass." Yet some of the things that get to me are a little ridiculous. The Brexit thing, for example. Even recognizing that it will pass, until the stock market bounced back strongly today I have a rough day mentally. It would make sense if I were heavily invested in the stock market, which I am not.
I arrive early at the radio station and have a meeting with Chris Claus--boss of all six of our stations--and Diane Newman, who is charge of all the news and talk program. A couple of weeks ago, I was approached by a restaurateur who wants to put on a big charity function with me at its center. I can't divulge the details, but I can say that there is more substance to it than I could bring with just my sharp wit and good looks.
My radio bosses think this is a good idea, too. To the point that they want to get all our stations involved in promoting it. Now that we're talking about helping a lot of hungry people, I am more interested. Especially in the part where we get wealthy people laughing. And it did get my mind off today's bout with paranoia.
[caption id="attachment_52011" align="alignright" width="320"]
Tony III and Tony II.[/caption]To dinner at Two Tony's (or, as its sign calls it, II Tony's). It's a combination seafood and Italian restaurant that spent some time in the building where Café Giovanni is now. It moved to Bucktown, then was evicted by the Corps of Engineers. The drainage guys, who wanted its land for a much-needed pumping station. It's in West End now, near the marina.
II Tony's has always been good, if only now and then brilliant. It does seem to get better with every visit, and that's how things go today. I start with a well-made Italian salad, then a big soft-shell crab piccata--fried, of course, with buttery sauce with artichoke hearts, capers, and herbs. Among the side-dish options that come with this is angel hair pasta agio olio--or, as we call it in most of New Orleans, pasta bordelaise. This is precisely what I felt like eating.
When I enter, a disarmingly small and young-looking hostess greets me. The reason she looks young is that she is young--a tweener, I'd guess. And the daughter of Tony Montalbano, Jr. She is well-spoken and welcoming, with more skill than I find in nine out of ten seaters and greeters, most of who seem to me never to have dined in a restaurant, let alone worked in one.
She does not take me to the table, however. That job goes to her eleven-year-old brother, who is also suave, welcoming, and caring about my needs.
[caption id="attachment_52012" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Soft shellcrab piccata at II Tonys.[/caption]
This young man is, of course, Tony Montalbano III. His grandfather was the original elder Tony of the II. Tony Jr., who has been in the restaurant since it opened, has been in charge of the kitchen all that time. Tony Sr., who was known for his friendliness, passed away some years ago. But that would not change the name. Tony III was much too young to have taken the stack of menus directly from the hand of his grandpa. There has never been a time when II Tony's was short a Tony.
It's not unusual for the management of a restaurant to pass to the next generation. Indeed, in my continuing reading of "Miss Ella"--the story of Ella Brennan and her restaurant family--I learn much about the second generation from its birth onward.
But I wonder how much longer this will persist in the restaurant business. For the rest of my life, I dearly hope.
Two Tonys. West End: 8536 Pontchartrain Blvd. 504-282-0801.
Tony III and Tony II.[/caption]To dinner at Two Tony's (or, as its sign calls it, II Tony's). It's a combination seafood and Italian restaurant that spent some time in the building where Café Giovanni is now. It moved to Bucktown, then was evicted by the Corps of Engineers. The drainage guys, who wanted its land for a much-needed pumping station. It's in West End now, near the marina.
II Tony's has always been good, if only now and then brilliant. It does seem to get better with every visit, and that's how things go today. I start with a well-made Italian salad, then a big soft-shell crab piccata--fried, of course, with buttery sauce with artichoke hearts, capers, and herbs. Among the side-dish options that come with this is angel hair pasta agio olio--or, as we call it in most of New Orleans, pasta bordelaise. This is precisely what I felt like eating.
When I enter, a disarmingly small and young-looking hostess greets me. The reason she looks young is that she is young--a tweener, I'd guess. And the daughter of Tony Montalbano, Jr. She is well-spoken and welcoming, with more skill than I find in nine out of ten seaters and greeters, most of who seem to me never to have dined in a restaurant, let alone worked in one.
She does not take me to the table, however. That job goes to her eleven-year-old brother, who is also suave, welcoming, and caring about my needs.
[caption id="attachment_52012" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Soft shellcrab piccata at II Tonys.[/caption]
This young man is, of course, Tony Montalbano III. His grandfather was the original elder Tony of the II. Tony Jr., who has been in the restaurant since it opened, has been in charge of the kitchen all that time. Tony Sr., who was known for his friendliness, passed away some years ago. But that would not change the name. Tony III was much too young to have taken the stack of menus directly from the hand of his grandpa. There has never been a time when II Tony's was short a Tony.
It's not unusual for the management of a restaurant to pass to the next generation. Indeed, in my continuing reading of "Miss Ella"--the story of Ella Brennan and her restaurant family--I learn much about the second generation from its birth onward.
But I wonder how much longer this will persist in the restaurant business. For the rest of my life, I dearly hope.
