Wednesday, September 1, 2016.
Café B, A Much-Underrated Restaurant.
I have no explanation for this, but for the past few weeks the radio show has been sailing along with a nice cadre of callers letting loose interesting questions and ideas. I puzzle over what I'm doing to create this very desirable situation. But I truly have no idea when and why the chemistry begins to bubble.
Yesterday's fecund topic was meatballs. The subject comes up now and then. But today I notice that people were less interested in discussing what mix of meats should go into the meatballs, and more intrigued by which day of the week meatballs and spaghetti should be served. Those who are of authentic Italian descent-especially those whose families are from Sicily-almost universally say that Sunday is Meatball Day.
Mary Leigh shows evidence of my genetic package by wanting to leave everybody behind to spend the night alone in a Gulf Coast condo to which she has access. I spent a lot of time doing things like that, although not lately. Given what's in her near future, this is a good idea.
This leaves MA without a car for the day, but that works out well. Her three sisters are in town and want to get together for supper at the Peppermill. MA is no fan of the Peppermill. She says it strikes her as gloomy. No surprise there: she's always been more interested in restaurant environments than in food.
Since I will be called upon to collect MA and take her home later, I ask whether I am invited to this party. Absolutely not, I am told. The girls don't get together often enough to have husbands in the vicinity, since two of the sisters live on opposite coasts.
I stay in the general area by having dinner at Café B, Ralph Brennan's Old Metairie bistro. Every time I dine here, I leave thinking that this is an even better place to dine than it was the time before.
Today, I begin with an amuse-bouche baked oysters, with a sauce of reduced oyster liquor, a little butter (or cream-hard to tell) and perhaps a touch of some kind of brandy. (Closed circuit message to chef Mike Uddo: I'm just guessing at all this. So quit your laughing.)
If I hadn't already ordered a romaine salad jammed with crabmeat, I would have asked whether I could get four or five more of those oysters, at whatever price they're asking.
I am about to order an entrée of pompano with crabmeat when the waiter says that I had the same dish last time I was in. I didn't remember that myself, but I'm quite sure he is accurate. Waiters and cooks have an astounding gift of recall. Gerard Crozier, during the first ten or so years of his restaurant's existence, could tell me everything about every meal dish I ever had from his hand. He also remembered which table and chair I occupied. Why?
The entrée that comes out after all this cogitation is a nice slab of redfish atop a panzanilla salad. The waiter Marc tells me that this dish came from Bacco-the Italian restaurant Ralph used to operate in the French Quarter. When he closed it, he promised regular customers that he would bring back good old Bacco dishes in his other restaurants. Well, here's one now. The one I wish they would bring back more often is Bacco's wonderful mussels with vermouth.
Café B. Old Metairie: 2700 Metairie Road. 504-934-4700.
P.S.: I have been taking pictures as usual in my dining adventures, but for the life of me I can't figure out how to pull the photos from my new wireless phone into the computer, let alone the website. I ask readers for patience, and promise I'll bring my old Canon with me, too.
