Diary10|24|2914: The Pelican Club Is All That.

[title type="h5"]Friday, October 17, 2014 Pelican Club: Predictably Exquisite.[/title] Mary Ann calls to invite herself to dinner with me. She has a surprising plan. Let's go to Antoine's, she says, so we can check on the rehearsal dinner for Jude and his bride in two months. I don't know what really needs to be checked. Even the waiters seem to know this is coming. But Antoine's on a Friday night is something I never refuse. But we can't contact the person she needs to discuss these matters. Mary Ann doesn't have the same enthusiasm for old restaurants that I do, so she asks that we save Antoine's for another evening and go modern tonight. We wind up at the Pelican Club. This is a restaurant we both very much admire, but where we only rarely go. The place is so consistent, even in its new dishes, that I don't need to check on it often. Not that I wouldn't go there once a week if I didn't have so many other places to investigate. Owner and chef Richard Hughes swings by. He knows Mary Ann as well as he knows me. She has been trying to get Richard and his wife to join us for dinner somewhere. They try again to coordinate this. I will be the last to know. [caption id="attachment_44893" align="alignnone" width="480"] Pelican Club oysters.[/caption] We begin with two Pelican Club classics. Oysters broiled on the shells with a little bacon, herbs and cheese. They come out searingly hot. In about two minutes, they are almost cool, but all gone. [caption id="attachment_44894" align="alignnone" width="480"] Crabmeat, artichoke hearts, garlic beurre blanc, at Pelican Club[/caption] Mary Ann is interested in the appetizer of scallops and artichokes, except for the scallops. Richard says it would be no problem for him to swap crabmeat for the scallops. Crab and artichokes? A natural winner. She puts them away as fast as I do in the oysters. [caption id="attachment_44892" align="alignnone" width="480"] Crabmeat and shrimp cake.[/caption] Unbidden, the waiter opines that we might want one more course in this dinner. Not much--an order of the crab and shrimp cakes on fried green tomatoes, split two ways. It is this dish that has us looking at one another with what has become a common question lately: "Why don't we come here more often?" Everybody does a crabcake, but few as well as this. The shrimp component is a diversion, yet takes a full role in the deliciousness. [caption id="attachment_44891" align="alignnone" width="480"] Whole flounder with a Thai-style thatch of flavors.[/caption] We now come to the great dish of the night. Richard has been telling me that his most popular entree is a whole flounder, tipping the scales at about a pound and a half, garnished and sauced in one movement with a Thai-inspired collection of ingredients, a little sweet and quite peppery. Many radio listeners have told me they love this thing, even with the rigamarole of freeing the fillets from the bones. This first taste of the dish clears away any mystery as to why it's so popular. It is spectacular eating, its freshness and the sharpness of the topping combining into a dish for the books. It's really big enough for two, but if you get it all down yourself you have spent just over $30 for it. No other whole flounder--or any other kind of whole fish, for that matter--comes close to this goodness. [caption id="attachment_44890" align="alignnone" width="480"] MA's favorite kind of fish dish.[/caption] Mary Ann is eating her standard fish dish--the one with crabmeat on top in hollandaise. The fish itself is panneed. Green beans, corn with red and green peppers, and roasted little potatoes finish off yet another generous portion. [caption id="attachment_44888" align="alignnone" width="480"] White chocolate bread pudding, incredibly rich.[/caption] I can't eat any more, but the waiter says I really should try the white chocolate bread pudding. It is rich beyond anything I've encountered before, and even though bread pudding is my favorite dessert, I run up the white flag. In the bar every weekend is jazz pianist Sanford Hinderlie, who by day is a professor in the music department of Loyola. He has played at the Pelican Club practically since it opened in 1990. He certainly seems to have fun, with a refreshing, unamplified sound. He's one of the reasons I prefer to dine in the bar here. I think about asking if we can do a duet. But then I recall something another pianist I know told me: I shouldn't try to sing along with a keyboard man who leans even a little to the bebop side. He said I would be the one who'd look clumsy. [title type="h5"]Pelican Club. French Quarter: 615 Bienville. 504-523-1504. [/title]