Friday, September 9, 2016
Boucherie Is Smoking!
Mary Ann is leaving for Los Angeles tomorrow, so she is making up for her absence from the Cool Water Ranch in advance. This means being available for a meal or two. Tonight's entry from this series takes place at Boucherie, after we fail to find an open space in our first two restaurants we try. Gautreau's--proves to be as full as I would have guessed. A multiple-week-in-advance reservation is needed for Fridays and Saturdays there. MA suggests we try Mariza in the Bywater, but it's closed for vacation.
We almost didn't get into Boucherie, either. The only table available is out on the sidewalk. It is still in the 90s outside. MA is not daunted by that, of course. She's so happy with the table that she calls our friends the Swifts to join us. They were in the middle of something, but say they will show up within the hour.
While she is finagling that get-together, I have a cocktail called the Sophia Loren. It's a variation on the Negroni, with the bitter part of the classic recipe being replaced with grapefruit juice. I also arrange for a basket of Boucherie's excellent fresh-cut fries to come our way. (I believe I've mentioned in this space how well French fries go with cocktails.)
The inevitable conversation about the future of our daughter and her boyfriend is much less pressing than it was a week ago, the night before the Wedding That Wasn't. During the week we have been pleasantly surprised by the willingness of the caterers, the band, the church, and almost everybody else to refund large parts of our deposits. It will not be the fiscal bloodbath that loomed a week ago. I hate to bring up this crass matter, but almost everybody who has heard about the postponement (officially, that's where things stand) immediately asks how much this cost us.
Boucherie serves us boudin, pork ribs, and a plate of Wagyu brisket. Although the place has a large barbecue component in its menu, its range is much wider, and it's more of a fluke than a plan that our supper suggests tumbleweed country.
[caption id="attachment_50691" align="alignnone" width="480"]
Fresh-cut fries at Boucherie. [/caption]
We are just finishing those eats when the Swifts appear. It's no problem. The two of them get into a political conversation with MA. To avoid problems later, I extract myself from the debate until it moves to MA's fear that her car is low on oil. I tell her to meet me at the gas station and we'll check it. But I had forgotten that one of Doug Swift's hobbies is fixing cars. He pops the trunk (that where I was stymied), unscrews the oil cap and checks the level. It is a little low. MA produces a bottle of oil and they fill it up. A restaurant critic is not much needed in a moment like this.
