Sunday, September 17, 2017. Mary Leigh comes to the ranch to keep her current carpentry project going. It is composed of what will be hundreds of small wooden tiles, each about an inch thick. I like the way it looks already. But before she gets back to work we go for lunch at New Orleans Food and Spirits, where she likes the panneed chicken salad and I like the blackened catfish with pecan-meuniere brown butter. Especially since I'm less than really hungry, after that dinner last night at Forks and Corks.
In between, I dedicate the entire remainder of the day to finishing my income tax return. The extensions run out in less than a month, and it's time. The outcome is surprising; I guessed that the check for Uncle Sam would be a bit higher than this. Louisiana taxes were a little higher than I expected, but not bad enough for me to wring my hands.
Overnight, Mary Ann shows up, after being chauffeured from the airport by Mary Leigh. I wasn't expecting her until Wednesday, but things seem to be going well enough at Jude's house (he has made a couple more trips to Seattle from Los Angeles for his new job) that MA doesn't have to babysit with grandson Jackson. I know I'm glad to have her back home.
Monday, September 18, 2018. The gouty problem is easing. It never gets nearly as bad for me as it does for some friends. On two occasions, I saw Dick Brennan, Senior stop in the middle of a dinner he was hosting at Commander's Palace when gout hit him suddenly.
So I am wary of what I eat for awhile. What I really want is a roast beef poor boy. But I shouldn't. Yet I did. It was a repeat of the roast beef I had about two months ago at Di Martino's in Covington. I ate half of one of these and packed the rest for home snacking. All the elements are a few steps above the standard: the tender beef, the gravy (for once in my life they follow my instructions to take it easy on the juicy), and especially the bread. It's a whole baguette-shaped loaf (narrower at the ends than in the middle) with just the right texture to keep the bread from disintegrating, as it does almost everywhere.
Best of all, it didn't give me stabbing pains in my right foot.
Tuesday, September 19, 2017. I am about to depart for the South Shore when I thought I'd better check my tires. The glowing yellow icon in the dashboard says that I'm losing air. The right rear tire looks low, and the gauge on my air pump confirms this. So here comes a $500 bill, right? No! The VW guys take a look and find a screw embedded in the rubber. They could repair the breach, but not permanently. I don't think it's a good idea to cross the Causeway with a compromised tire. The new tire costs only $147. And the dealer's service consultant doesn't see any reason why I should get two or even four tires, as he has in the past.
Being able to do the radio show from home is a great help in situations like this.
The radio show plays. I interview the top management guy at Barcadia. That's a hangout for twenty-something people, especially at the end of the work day. The quality of the food here has always been better than in similar places. Certainly better than the bars with the biggest crowds nearby. Their burgers are generous and made with good beef they grind themselves. The fries are hand-cut. Drinks and beer are available in ample supply. In between bites, you can play antique arcade games, many of them classics. I used to dig that activity. It was in the age of Space Invaders. I never could beat that game.
All this is next door from the radio studio. I don't go there often, and when I do I never run into anyone I know, but the food is much better than the place suggests.
Barcadia. Warehouse District: 601 Tchoupitoulas St. 504-335-1740.
Written by Tom Fitzmorris September 20, 2017 12:01 in
