Visiting An Old Haunt

In the old days before COVID changed everything, first class restaurants that were only open for dinner had a Friday lunch. It was a thing. And a few years ago, these started to return. Not all of them, but a few. Gradually that number grew to include Gautreau’s, and more recently, Arnaud’s. 

I went to Arnaud’s and discovered that things had been “tweaked,” but the overall excellence of the place was unchanged. I sat there reminiscing about so many visits there, this time from an outsider’s perspective. Since Tom’s illness and passing, visiting as a regular is over. I appreciated it for what it was, a special privilege to be a regular diner there. When Tom was alive and healthy, we went often. It wasn’t “special.” But a meal at Arnaud’s is indeed special, no matter how many times you do it.

First, the only face I recognized was the Maître d'. We used to know everyone in the dining room. Something else drew my attention. I had a “cocktail” waiter that I confused as the waiter. Since cocktails have become such a big thing for restaurants, I see separate menus for cocktails often, but this was the first time a waiter self-described as a “cocktail waiter.” As I embarrassed myself with this, he kept deflecting questions I had about the menu to “his captain,” a term I only heard a few times in my entirety with Tom, and only at the top places. 

Since I knew it would be a long time before any return visit, I ordered a lot: seafood gumbo, Shrimp Arnaud, and Crabmeat Ravigote. I also had the crabcakes as an entree.

The restaurant sent out some Pommes Soufflé to start. I like these, but probably not as much as the next guy. If I am going to eat Pommes Soufflé, I want to eat them here. They are the very best by a large measure. They are beautifully presented and perfectly executed. Except this day, when they seemed limp and not cooked quite enough. Oh well, it’s hard to quibble with their goodness. The Bearnaise Sauce was as perky and lemony as always. Delish.

I have never had the gumbo at Arnaud’s because there are regular things I get. But I was determined to get other things than I usually do here. The gumbo was fine but not brilliant, a good version of a classic seafood gumbo and probably one that has been around for decades. 

The Shrimp Arnaud and Crabmeat Ravigot came at the same time, which was how I requested it.

Both of these had been tweaked since I last had them. The Shrimp Arnaud seemed less piquant with horseradish than all previous versions. The classic Arnaud’s version always nearly choked me with its pungency of horseradish, which I didn't mind at all. That was quite diminished this time.

Unfortunately, the spice seems to have jumped to its cousin Crabmeat Ravigote, which had an entirely new presentation and a lot more spice. I hate to keep repeating myself about the delicacy of crabmeat, but it needs nothing. Actually nothing. But a light mayo used merely as binder with some capers and a smidge of other ingredients is enough for this dish. There was considerably more spice in this version of Crabmeat Ravigote, which was disappointing but not a deal breaker. In my opinion, crabmeat is so sublime that nothing but a tomato sauce could destroy it for me.

What was most interesting about this was the presentation, which was set in a bowl made of radicchio leaves, and this was set into a beautiful empty real crab shell. The crabshell was so free of detritus of any kind it could have been fake, but it was real and in perfect condition.

The shell, and the Shrimp Remoulade, sat on a bed of chopped lettuce with little radish sticks dotting throughout. This was previously boring shredded Iceberg lettuce. Much more modern and fresher.

I ate both of these not with the cap bread that used to come in the little white bag emblazoned with the Arnaud’s logo, but a generic pistolette served from a linen-lined basket full of bread, just like any other first class restaurant. This makes me sad, to see the Grande Dames ditching this tradition one by one. I’m very glad to see others, like the Dickie Brennan group of younger places, adopt it.

The crab cakes came and at $37 they were about what I expected. Two small crabcakes were dusted with breadcrumbs and pan-seared, then covered with a mustard sauce and copious amounts of capers. The menu described them as jumbo lump, but the first bite made me wonder. There were mostly shreds of crabmeat here, almost as dense as a stuffing. Jumbo lumps did occasionally turn up, but this was nothing like my gold standard bearer of Mr. B’s at $35, up $3 in a year. But still the king in town, to me, with jumbo lumps exploding from all sides. I still enjoyed these, and the little frisee salad that accompanied it was delish, with its light French vinaigrette.

It wasn’t difficult to turn down dessert as I always do. I had already eaten too much. But I might have pushed through just at Arnaud’s, because Bread Pudding Fitzmorris was always on the menu. 

It isn’t any longer, and that is the saddest change of all here.