Wednesday, June 29, 2016
Attempt At Dining At Tana.
One of my radio callers today raved about the restaurant at Tana, the restaurant side of the spiffy Mid-City bar Treo. The chef there is Michael Gulotta, formerly the exec at Restaurant August, and owner of the proto-Vietnamese MoPho. I took a look at the menu and was as enthusiastic about what it offered as my caller was.
So I went over there, and after making four circles of the neighborhood (in which Tulane Avenue is being ripped up down to the bedrock) I could not find the place. And this is my old neighborhood, for eight years! I should have parked the car and looked for Tana on foot, but another rainstorm (the third of the day) looked imminent.
I next found myself on Harrison Avenue. I couldn't find a nearby parking space to Cava, and it still looked like rain. No sign of that umbrella of mine, either.
I wound up at The Peppermill which, because of its location just off my route home, I visit three or four times a year. Tonight was one of the rare nights when owner Vincent Riccobono was there, having dinner with family. Vincent spends almost all his time at his breakfast place in Carrollton--the Panola Street Café.
The waiter kept trying to tell me the specials, but he was interrupted numerous times by people in the room who knew me--Vincent being one of them. When he finally got around to it, I put in an order for a Manhattan (for some reason, I get this cocktail every time I show up at the Peppermill), a cup of the soup du jour (cream of artichoke), a salad with the Italian vinaigrette that goes back all the way to the Buck Forty Nine Pancake and Steak House.
I must have seemed a crank to the waiter. The cocktail was served on the rocks instead of up--my fault for not mentioning this preference. I asked to have it strained. Then, I wanted some Tabasco for the soup. And now the salad comes out with dressing on the side; I ask for it to be tossed with the greens. I tip him well for all this, as I must.
The entree was a delicious casserole of eggplant, tomatoes, cheeses, and bread crumbs. They said it has been on the menu for ages, but I don't remember it. It was enough to split two ways, yet I consumed about three-fourths of it, along with a good-sized spook of angel hair with red sauce. I ate too much of that, too. But then, all I've had to eat today was a slice of toast and an orange.
Tonight is the last night for now of sleeping alone. I will pick up Mary Ann at the airport tomorrow night, and our marital bliss will resume following her ten days with son Jude, daughter-in-law Suzanne and grandson Jackson. If make all the right moves and say the right things. But what else is new?
Peppermill. Metairie: 3524 Severn Ave. 504-455-2266.
I wound up at The Peppermill which, because of its location just off my route home, I visit three or four times a year. Tonight was one of the rare nights when owner Vincent Riccobono was there, having dinner with family. Vincent spends almost all his time at his breakfast place in Carrollton--the Panola Street Café.
The waiter kept trying to tell me the specials, but he was interrupted numerous times by people in the room who knew me--Vincent being one of them. When he finally got around to it, I put in an order for a Manhattan (for some reason, I get this cocktail every time I show up at the Peppermill), a cup of the soup du jour (cream of artichoke), a salad with the Italian vinaigrette that goes back all the way to the Buck Forty Nine Pancake and Steak House.
I must have seemed a crank to the waiter. The cocktail was served on the rocks instead of up--my fault for not mentioning this preference. I asked to have it strained. Then, I wanted some Tabasco for the soup. And now the salad comes out with dressing on the side; I ask for it to be tossed with the greens. I tip him well for all this, as I must.
The entree was a delicious casserole of eggplant, tomatoes, cheeses, and bread crumbs. They said it has been on the menu for ages, but I don't remember it. It was enough to split two ways, yet I consumed about three-fourths of it, along with a good-sized spook of angel hair with red sauce. I ate too much of that, too. But then, all I've had to eat today was a slice of toast and an orange.
Tonight is the last night for now of sleeping alone. I will pick up Mary Ann at the airport tomorrow night, and our marital bliss will resume following her ten days with son Jude, daughter-in-law Suzanne and grandson Jackson. If make all the right moves and say the right things. But what else is new?
