Thursday, September 17, 2015.
Eat Club @ Café Giovanni.
Café Giovanni may be the easiest Eat Club venue for me to fill with eaters. We came close to filling every seat in the main dining room, for around 66 people total. (Which I think is a few too many, but it wouldn't be the first time.) Most of these people didn't bother to wait until the menu came out. That's a good thing, because as usual Chef Duke Locicero didn't hand over the details until just a few days ago.
[caption id="attachment_48922" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Cafe Giovanni with the Eat Club.[/caption]
The Duke went along with my suggestion that he bring back two dishes we haven't seen from his hand in awhile. Some fifteen years ago, he won a cooking competition for which I was one of the judges. (Alec Gifford was another, to give you a mild shock at how time zips by.) The dish was an Asian-flavored essay on sea scallops, with a peppery sauce that was so good that the judges unanimously gave him the win. Here that dish was again tonight, as edible as it was last time.
[caption id="attachment_48920" align="alignnone" width="400"]
Gazpacho with other touches.[/caption]
We are off to a great start, with a dish generically named "baked seafood." Metal shells held oysters, crabmeat, and shrimp, with a very light sauce of bread crumbs, herbs, and cheese. A poll I would take later in the evening will call this unassuming dish the favorite eat of the night. I consider asking the people at my table to hide their empty shells when they're finished, at which time I would demand to have this allegedly unserved baked seafood brought out immediately. (The strategy doesn't work. Duke made only a few extras.)
[caption id="attachment_48919" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Crabmeat Siciliana.[/caption]
Good as that was, we have many more delicacies. For example, an unusual cold soup made with avocado, crabmeat, and the standard ingredients for gazpacho. Perfect timing of that in this dinner. Then another cold course: crabmeat Siciliano, a surfeit of white lumps on a pile of crisp greens.
[caption id="attachment_48918" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Asian-style scallops and shrimp.[/caption]
We return to hot eats with the aforementioned sea scallops, sent out with some big shrimp to make it even more alluring. A short gap in the service allowed me to move to another table, where Chef Duke's current signature dish appears. It's a prosciutto-wrapped small filet mignon, with a sauce containing both foie gras and green peppercorns.
I have a strange visual reaction to that one. The main item is cylindrical in shape, a darkish brown color and a sauce that made it look as if it could have been a sweet item. I welcome this pseudo-dessert, heralding the end of the dinner. But then my apprehension of the dish shifts to reality. I am mildly disappointed that the dinner still has two courses to go. I can't remember having felt that way since the unforgettable overfeed about twenty years ago in Sclafani's in the French Quarter.
[caption id="attachment_48916" align="alignnone" width="480"]
A unique variation on cannoli.[/caption]
The real dessert is worth waiting for--and worth eating on a full stomach. Chef Duke has devised a new approach to the cannoli. Instead of stuffing the sweetened ricotta into a hard, fried shell, he pipes it into a puff pastry and then bakes it. This gives the dessert a lightness that is almost unimaginable. (There is nothing light about a standard Sicilian cannoli.)
This is a lot pf praise for a six-course dinner. But the kitchen didn't fumble anything. Or should I take into account what one of the Eat Clubbers thought worthwhile to complain about? He said the food tasted fine, but he was miffed that the kitchen didn't drop off all the plates for a course in a single motion. No, they didn't. The reason: Café Giovanni's kitchen is absurdly small, and it can't knock out a dozen of the same hot dish at one time without slowing the service down or serving the food cold. It is the only complaint I would hear all night.
[caption id="attachment_48921" align="alignnone" width="480"]
The New Cafe Giovanni singers and their accompanist.[/caption]
There's been a change in Café Giovanni's music program. A new pianist, a new male singer, and an alto who has been there for awhile. She sounded better than I remember from previous dinners. And the new guy is not only a good singer, but very funny, too. One of his shticks was milking the audience for applause by just repeating his last high note.
This was a late-running dinner. I didn't get to my car (I walked over from the radio station, which is only five blocks away) until about ten-thirty. That means a midnight home arrival. I used to do that several nights a week, but such behavior is anathema now.
Cafe Giovanni. French Quarter: 117 Decatur. 504-529-2154.
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Friday, September 18, 2015.
Seaweed, Raw Fish, And The Louisiana Philharmonic.
I am trying to find activities that both Mary Ann and I enjoy. I see that the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra--the indirect descendent of a long association of classical music providers in New Orleans--has begun its season. This weekend's offering is Gustav Mahler's Resurrection Symphony. A performance in the expansive, acoustically fine First Baptist Church in Covington is tonight. It's a short ride up Highway 21 from the ranch. What's more, Daniel Lelchuk--The Gourmet Cellist--offered us tickets. Daniel is a regular caller to the radio show, when he's not hanging out in Europe, which he has this past year. He's also the second-chair cellist with the LPO.
We are going to have supper before the concert. That so presses us for time that I change into a suit during the last two commercial breaks during the radio show. I know I will not need to dress up, but I like standing out in a crowd, and indeed only some one percent of the audience will be arrayed in anything but casual duds. (The performers, of course, are in white tie and tails.)
[caption id="attachment_46442" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Seafood salad with seaweed and caviar.[/caption]
Supper is a combination of the seafood and seaweed salads at Tchoupstix. This is always a good deal in a good sushi place. The fish is what's left after the beautiful center cuts are carved off the fillets. There's nothing wrong with these irregular pieces, and they work perfectly in a salad. Ten bucks!
At Tchoupstix they serve you a clear, dark-brown beef broth with noodles when you sit down. It's on the house. I love it, but tonight I realize that I may have a permanent mental association with the soup that is something less than savory. A few months ago, I asked the restaurant to sell me a quart of this good consomme. It qualifies as a clear liquid--one of the only things that one can consume for a half-day before a certain medical examination I had a few months ago. As I eat the soup today, I still like the taste, but I remember. . . well. . . that's my problem.
That passes from my mind as we get great seats (there are many such available; the auditorium is enormous). We're right across from Daniel, and that also gives us a great view of conductor Carlos Miguel Prieto. Who is somebody to watch. I have never seen a conductor so energetic. I can't recall seeing one actually jump into the air--not just once, either. The Mahler Number Two is a great showcase for this. The piece is dynamic. That the performers got through it without being perspiration-soaked is a credit to the air-conditioning. I was exhausted just listening to them.
Also superb was the chorus, composed of two organizations singing together. About 150 members, singing as one voice! That is the Holy Grail of choral singing, the destruction of which I am guilty for over fifty years.
At this moment, a reader (not you) is thinking about sending me a note asking why I would hear the LPO in Covington when I could have done so in the newly-reopened Orpheum Theater yesterday or this Sunday. To him I say, "You're right. But I don't know."
Tchoupstix. Covington: 69305 LA Hwy 21. 985-892-0852.
Cafe Giovanni with the Eat Club.[/caption]
The Duke went along with my suggestion that he bring back two dishes we haven't seen from his hand in awhile. Some fifteen years ago, he won a cooking competition for which I was one of the judges. (Alec Gifford was another, to give you a mild shock at how time zips by.) The dish was an Asian-flavored essay on sea scallops, with a peppery sauce that was so good that the judges unanimously gave him the win. Here that dish was again tonight, as edible as it was last time.
[caption id="attachment_48920" align="alignnone" width="400"]
Gazpacho with other touches.[/caption]
We are off to a great start, with a dish generically named "baked seafood." Metal shells held oysters, crabmeat, and shrimp, with a very light sauce of bread crumbs, herbs, and cheese. A poll I would take later in the evening will call this unassuming dish the favorite eat of the night. I consider asking the people at my table to hide their empty shells when they're finished, at which time I would demand to have this allegedly unserved baked seafood brought out immediately. (The strategy doesn't work. Duke made only a few extras.)
[caption id="attachment_48919" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Crabmeat Siciliana.[/caption]
Good as that was, we have many more delicacies. For example, an unusual cold soup made with avocado, crabmeat, and the standard ingredients for gazpacho. Perfect timing of that in this dinner. Then another cold course: crabmeat Siciliano, a surfeit of white lumps on a pile of crisp greens.
[caption id="attachment_48918" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Asian-style scallops and shrimp.[/caption]
We return to hot eats with the aforementioned sea scallops, sent out with some big shrimp to make it even more alluring. A short gap in the service allowed me to move to another table, where Chef Duke's current signature dish appears. It's a prosciutto-wrapped small filet mignon, with a sauce containing both foie gras and green peppercorns.
I have a strange visual reaction to that one. The main item is cylindrical in shape, a darkish brown color and a sauce that made it look as if it could have been a sweet item. I welcome this pseudo-dessert, heralding the end of the dinner. But then my apprehension of the dish shifts to reality. I am mildly disappointed that the dinner still has two courses to go. I can't remember having felt that way since the unforgettable overfeed about twenty years ago in Sclafani's in the French Quarter.
[caption id="attachment_48916" align="alignnone" width="480"]
A unique variation on cannoli.[/caption]
The real dessert is worth waiting for--and worth eating on a full stomach. Chef Duke has devised a new approach to the cannoli. Instead of stuffing the sweetened ricotta into a hard, fried shell, he pipes it into a puff pastry and then bakes it. This gives the dessert a lightness that is almost unimaginable. (There is nothing light about a standard Sicilian cannoli.)
This is a lot pf praise for a six-course dinner. But the kitchen didn't fumble anything. Or should I take into account what one of the Eat Clubbers thought worthwhile to complain about? He said the food tasted fine, but he was miffed that the kitchen didn't drop off all the plates for a course in a single motion. No, they didn't. The reason: Café Giovanni's kitchen is absurdly small, and it can't knock out a dozen of the same hot dish at one time without slowing the service down or serving the food cold. It is the only complaint I would hear all night.
[caption id="attachment_48921" align="alignnone" width="480"]
The New Cafe Giovanni singers and their accompanist.[/caption]
There's been a change in Café Giovanni's music program. A new pianist, a new male singer, and an alto who has been there for awhile. She sounded better than I remember from previous dinners. And the new guy is not only a good singer, but very funny, too. One of his shticks was milking the audience for applause by just repeating his last high note.
This was a late-running dinner. I didn't get to my car (I walked over from the radio station, which is only five blocks away) until about ten-thirty. That means a midnight home arrival. I used to do that several nights a week, but such behavior is anathema now.
Seafood salad with seaweed and caviar.[/caption]
Supper is a combination of the seafood and seaweed salads at Tchoupstix. This is always a good deal in a good sushi place. The fish is what's left after the beautiful center cuts are carved off the fillets. There's nothing wrong with these irregular pieces, and they work perfectly in a salad. Ten bucks!
At Tchoupstix they serve you a clear, dark-brown beef broth with noodles when you sit down. It's on the house. I love it, but tonight I realize that I may have a permanent mental association with the soup that is something less than savory. A few months ago, I asked the restaurant to sell me a quart of this good consomme. It qualifies as a clear liquid--one of the only things that one can consume for a half-day before a certain medical examination I had a few months ago. As I eat the soup today, I still like the taste, but I remember. . . well. . . that's my problem.
That passes from my mind as we get great seats (there are many such available; the auditorium is enormous). We're right across from Daniel, and that also gives us a great view of conductor Carlos Miguel Prieto. Who is somebody to watch. I have never seen a conductor so energetic. I can't recall seeing one actually jump into the air--not just once, either. The Mahler Number Two is a great showcase for this. The piece is dynamic. That the performers got through it without being perspiration-soaked is a credit to the air-conditioning. I was exhausted just listening to them.
Also superb was the chorus, composed of two organizations singing together. About 150 members, singing as one voice! That is the Holy Grail of choral singing, the destruction of which I am guilty for over fifty years.
At this moment, a reader (not you) is thinking about sending me a note asking why I would hear the LPO in Covington when I could have done so in the newly-reopened Orpheum Theater yesterday or this Sunday. To him I say, "You're right. But I don't know."
