A Brunch Blitz

Last week when I updated the almanac as I do each morning, I noticed that it was the birthday of Victorien Sardou, the namesake of our popular local classic Eggs Sardou, a “fancy egg dish” as Tom calls them. Immediately I switched plans for the day and woke Tom in hopes of getting him across the lake for a visit to Antoine’s, where the dish originated. 

Secretly I wanted to go to Brennan’s because we have gotten some hard-to-believe reports lately. We have never had anything but utter perfection in food and service at Brennan’s, adding up to a totally delightful experience. These reports made me curious.

We arrived at Antoine’s to see it closed for lunch now, allowing us to pivot and walk half a block to Brennan’s. Because we do the show from the house at 2pm, and have to drive an hour home, we must be in the car no later than 1pm if we are across the lake for lunch. This abbreviated time is okay at most places, but it is wholly unsuitable for a place of the caliber of Brennan’s. I must remember that Brennan’s is open for breakfast, so this whirlwind lunch schedule is not necessitated. I actually feel foolish (as I should) telling servers we are in a hurry. Brennan’s is an event. Not to be rushed! Everyone else in the place knows that and is clearly savoring the experience.

On this day we were planning to go to Antoine’s for lunch rather than brunch, so I felt slightly less silly. The last rushed lunch we had no excuse.

Because of this self-imposed time restriction, I barely looked at the menu. I ordered Turtle Soup for Tom as I do whenever I see it on a menu. And of course one of us would get Eggs Sardou because that was the purpose of the visit. But what else?

I noticed a duck confit hash which looked good, and I saw a Quiche Lorraine, something I almost always get if it is on a menu. My eyes briefly fell on a Gulf Fish Papillote. When I inquired what the fish was and the reply was Pompano, I ordered it for Tom without reading the item description. Pompano is Tom’s favorite fish, and though he has specifically said he does not care for Pompano in Papillote, I was curious about the dish and felt safe getting it because it was Pompano.

While I was hurriedly pondering all this, I kept seeing these beautiful tall circular tarts go through the dining room. It seemed everyone had my quiche fetish. I decided to get a quiche for the first course while Tom had his soup, and the second course would be the fish and Eggs Sardou. I continued to unwittingly drive the servers crazy by adding to the order as I saw something else on the menu. Sides of biscuit and sausage patty came later.

The meal started with an amuse bouche of gougères, something I rarely see. These were not the best version I have had of these delectable cheese puffs, but it worked.

Tom’s turtle soup was everything he wanted. It was a large enough portion to make it a meal, and he was pretty much finished with lunch. Too bad he had a $38 fish dish coming. Really too bad.

As I kept reading the menu I realized that this fish had a tomato gravy in it. Huh??? I asked the waitress if they could leave out the gravy and was told it was nearly finished. Tom hates fish and tomatoes, and I agree.

I had my own problems. The beautiful tart was odd. The frisée salad with Green Goddess dressing completely eclipsed both the taste and the texture of the quiche below. The crust was thick and divinely flaky, and the salad of frisée, radishes, and English peas was very tasty. I didn’t understand the quiche below until I had the remaining half at home in the evening, without the salad to distract me.

It was not a Quiche Lorraine at all, but an “interpretation” of it. Soft goat cheese (which I love everywhere else) nullified the solid mass that is a traditional quiche, and the absence of harder cheeses usually seen here did not help. The wetness of the salad made it sort of a tasty goat cheese puddle. Good thing the fantastic crust was sturdy.

Tom’s fish was a bigger disappointment. I have never actually seen Pompano en Papillote, but I knew it was a butter sauce inside. In looking up recipes later it was confirmed to be something of that nature. Here was another “interpretation” of a classic dish that in my opinion is guaranteed to dismay rather than delight. It was my fault for not noticing it on the menu. Courtboullion meets Papillote. It had Sorghum, Castelvetrano olives,  Marcona Almonds, and Louisiana Blue Crab, which to me seems like a cacophony of flavors, all of which were muted together by a tomato gravy. Poor delicate sublime Pompano, completely overshadowed by fine premium ingredients which were then themselves silenced by tomato gravy. 

The whole thing arrived at the table looking like a torched tamal, albeit a glamorous one. The waiter in a sort of tableside preparation then slits it open to reveal this mess.

My Eggs Sardou was very good. The crispy artichokes were well done, the artichoke bottoms fat and meaty, the poached eggs unevenly poached but otherwise fine, and the Choron Sauce delicious. All of this sat atop perfect creamed spinach.

The wait staff was gracious and accommodating to my ridiculous requests of adding and trying to subtract things as I acquainted myself with the menu, all within the absurd time constraints I imposed on this glamorous brunch.

Somewhere after the entrees were placed before us, my late add-ons of biscuit and housemade sausage patty arrived. 

The biscuit was from the cut rather than the dropped world of biscuitry, and what a specimen it was. Most people would have considered it too toasted for their taste, but I thought it was perfection. Crusty on the outside and flaky on the inside, this pinnacle of flourdom was served with a housemade jam that was a bit runny but delicious. Tom was knocked out by the goodness of this. Terrific.

Conversely, I didn’t care for the sausage at all. The real name for sausage is forcemeat, which is apropos but so overwhelming. Sometimes, though, sausage is so strong in smell I find myself thinking of it as forcement. That was what happened here, and it was also too smoky. I ate one bite of this.

We went to Brennan’s because it was Sardou Day, but it was an opportunity to check out some recent reports that it is slipping. While that is not an uncommon lament of mine just about everywhere, it certainly did not seem to be the case at Brennan’s. The place hasn’t aged a bit since the takeover nearly ten years ago. Service is Brennan impeccable. The last time we were there was right about the time Slade Rushing left for London. His Chef de cuisine took over.

When Slade Rushing took the reins as the opening chef at the “new” Brennan’s, he turned a lot of things on their heads. The Jackson Salad which I loved for so many years was immediately deconstructed. I was taken aback but not really alarmed because it was a delicious salad. He replaced the cap-bread-in-the-bag, ubiquitous at the Grande Dames around town with a housemade Parker House roll. These were cloudlike puffs of bliss, and who could complain about that?

The point is that there is a fine line between turning things on their head just because and turning things on their head to tweak and perhaps improve them. We had six menu items on this last visit and three were good, three very not good. That’s not a great average, but it may be what we got. Maybe such “creativity” should be reviewed, or the dishes renamed, but I still believe the place at its heart is what it has always been: a beautiful and very well-run iconic New Orleans restaurant.