[title type="h5"]
Tuesday, August 4, 2015.
Cowbell, Salu, And The Latest Fake Oyster Shells.
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The radio round table today hosts a jolly assemly. The two chefs are both from Uptown, but have nothing much else in common. Brack May is his bemused self, talking about the old gas station he operates as a restaurant. "I never want to look underneath that place," he said, in answer to my question about whether the place still has an hydraulic jack. I wonder whether any of the hundreds of old filling stations around the country converted their lifts into small dining rooms that go up and down as the night progresses. (Say! That might make a good April Fool restaurant review for next year!)
Last night, I had a dream into which Brack entered, giving me the opportunity to ask him where his name comes from. He says it's Irish, and that he was named for a somewhat heroic friend of his father. Now I know.
Chef Dustin Brien came over from Salu, where they are having a Mussels Festival. It's a four-course dinner, with moules all the way through. "Those are in addition to the ten dishes with mussels on the regular menu." Dustin says. I am certain that this is the current local record-holder for variety in mussels. Why have I not assayed this resource? I love mussels.
Stray thought: why do so many people pronounce the name of these blue-black bivalves "muzzles"?
Keith de la Gardelle is the local mouthpiece for Trinchero Family Estates, which he tells me is now the fourth-largest producer of wines in California. I cannot forget that its burgeoning was triggered by the accidental creation of white Zinfandel decades ago. Everybody knew Sutter Home wines then, but not so much the Tricheros. That has certainly changed.
Keith's cocktail chef brought along the makings of a drink called the American Mule. It's nothing more than the Moscow Mule made with Menage a Trois vodka from the good old U.S.A. A Moscow Mule is vodka, ginger beer, and a lime slice. It is supposed to be served in a distinctive copper coffee cup. For reasons I don't understand, the Moscow Mule has become my son Jude's favorite cocktail. It was the official Groom's Cocktail at his wedding reception, even though he couldn't track down enough copper coffee cups for the crowd.
The story of the wine brand "Menage a Trois" and its predecessor "Folie a Deux" is interesting. It started as a small Napa winery created by two psychiatrists. "Folie a deux" describes a fantasy held by two people at the same time. Sort of like having the same dream as the person sleeping next to you. "Menage a Trois" is a threesome, and the less I think about that, the better. If I remember correctly, the federal Department of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms at first objected to these names, but the owners ultimately kept them. It is long since the Trinchero wine juggernaut absorbed the whole line. But I wasn't expecting that the semi-alluring terms would wind up branding yet another vodka.
To dinner with brothers Mike and Kyle Loftin, and Kyle's wife Ari at the Red Fish Grill. The Loftins have created a product which seems to have a glowing future, judging by the number of people over the past few years who have told me about similar items they'd like to make a million with: artificial shells for the grilling of oysters.
The oyster dish that Drago's introduced some twenty years ago has become one of the major staples of local restaurants. One can sample the dish--oysters bubbling on their shells with a sauce of butter, garlic, pepper, and parmesan cheese--in restaurants ranging from little neighborhood cafes all the way up to Antoine's. That Antoine's--whose own famous oysters Rockefeller spread worldwide--should turn about and borrow Drago's idea is one of the high ironies of our times.
Grilling one's own oysters at home presents an immediate problem. Unless he shucks his own oysters and saves the shells, there is no legal way for a layman to get oyster shells. And if one does, one finds that the real shells don't last very long, getting uglier as they get older.
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Barbecue oysters at the Red Fish Grill.[/caption]
The Loftin shells are made of a ceramic compound that they claim can be taken out of a refrigerator and put atop an 800-degree grill without causing the ceramic shell to crack. The Loftin shells are obviously not real, but neither are they overly decorative. A flat spot on the bottom is a smart touch, keeping the oysters from sliding around or rocking. (That's why most baked oyster dishes are served in a bed of rock salt.)
The Loftin shells are substantially bigger than the average real oyster shell. You could put three or more average-size oysters and their sauces and garnishes in one shell. You could also use the shells for small casseroles or gratins. No two of them look exactly alike; they're made by hand with that in mind. They sell for about five dollars apiece, which is lower than the prices I've seen for most other grilling shells.
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Seafood charcuterie. [/caption]Mary Ann is with us and immediately hits it off with Ari Loftin, whose sparkling personality creates a laughing banter. We cover all the details of the oyster shells, and move on to other matters. A big platter of the Red Fish Grill's own signature oyster dish comes out on the Loftin shells. They are mis-named "barbecue oysters." They're fried, then topped with red pepper butter and blue cheese. We drink martinis. We compare notes about family and the restaurant scene and food in general. I guess they want to buy some advertising in my media, but nothing about that comes up.
We order dinner, starting with a brilliant new idea called seafood charcuterie. I love it: the name tells you exactly what is it: nearly-raw, marinated or cured seafoods of various kinds, spread out on a board. Very refreshing.
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Pompano off the wood-burning grill.[/caption]
We weren't actively trying to do this, but we manage to test the limits of the Red Fish's inventory of fish for the wood-burning grill. I see redfish, trout, and pompano. All of it is good-looking, generous, and delicious. Somebody had something stew-like, but I didn't get a taste.
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Red snapper.[/caption]
Executive Chef Austin Kirzner comes by to say hello. He is Mary Ann's brother's son's wife's brother. His presence proves once again that only 500 people live in New Orleans. Otherwise, connections like that wouldn't surface as often as they do.
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Seared tuna.[/caption]
Every time I eat at Ralph Brennnan's first restaurant independent of his family, I have to adjust my mental image of the Red Fish Grill as smallish. It is actually quite a large restaurant. The oyster bar alone is a pretty substantial space.
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A take on bananas Foster, flaming at the Red Fish Grill's table.[/caption]
[title type="h5"]Red Fish Grill. French Quarter: 115 Bourbon. 504-598-1200. [/title]
