Friday, April 29, 2011.
The Wedding. Jazz Festival. Pizza Pi.
The Marys were up at three in the morning to watch the social event of the century so far: the wedding of Prince William and Kate Middleton. I stayed in bed. I heard them go back upstairs at six. They didn't rise again for another four hours. The house was very quiet.
The Jazz Festival opens today. This will be one of the few years that I will miss it entirely. Things sure have changed out there. The roster of major stars who will perform is like nothing I remember there before, more like a rock concert than jazz. But that wouldn't affect me much. I spend almost no time at all at the major stages.
The ticket price is up to $60. That doesn't seem to keep anyone I know from going. But I remember when the admission was three dollars.
I'm puzzled a bit by the food offerings. The vendors and their menus hardly changed at all. Usually at least a few new outfits turn up, and a few old ones go away. But the only alteration from past years is the almost total lack of oysters. All the menus are decided months in advance. I guess the vendors didn't want to take a chance on not being able to get oysters, or of having to pay astronomical prices.
At some point, I'd make book on the Jazz Festival's bringing in name chefs to do some of the food, following the philosophy of their music programming. I don't know if that would be a good thing or a bad thing, but I'd be surprised if I didn't see it within the next two or three years. Here's what they should not do: import chefs from out of town, no matter who they are.
Mary Ann called on her way home and offered to pick up supper for me. Pizza was on my mind, and at the time she was right in front of a new pizza place. It's a branch of Pi (the familiar Greek letter is their momentarily confusing logo), a pizzeria whose first location is in the Warehouse District. This Pi is in the former Sal and Sam's on Veterans at Houma.
The pizza is the new American style: thick, pillowlike, bready, dry crust, way too much cheese, uninteresting sauce. This one was helped by the presence of spinach, garlic, feta, and olive oil. Not one for the ages. I ate one slice, and haven't been tempted by it since.
It has been over three years since a day was missed in the Dining Diary. To browse through all of the entries since 2008, go here.
