Friday, February 10, 2012.
Centennial Of Mother.
My niece Holly e-mailed to ask what I had planned for the 100th anniversary of the birth of my late mother. I've been dragging my feet about firming up the plans, but this is the last day I can do so. I called Steve Latter at Tujague's. We will have a table of twelve with seafood gumbo, shrimp remoulade, chicken bonne femme, brisket, and bread pudding, all things my mother loved. None of that will be a stretch for Tujague's, already fifty-six years old when my mother was born. I doubt she ever dined there. My generation is the first in her family's history to go to restaurants as a regular entertainment.
I stayed home for the radio show, after which MA and I went to Zea for supper. The Valentine's menu is in force: $40 for two, three courses. The waiter said that they sell a few of these, but that the typical diner has a specific Zea dish on his mind. And the place is so inexpensive that the even better Valentine's deal doesn't grab everybody. We split an order of their wonderfully over-garlicked hummus (everyone in our family loves heavy garlic dishes). For me, a rotisserie half-chicken with the pesto sauce. This is the dish that persuaded me that Zea is a good concept. For her, a spinach salad with grilled chicken. The offered dessert was the elegant sweet-potato-pecan bread pudding. MA doesn't go for bread pudding. I could only eat half of it.
En route to the restaurant, I got a call from Emile Gauchet, the radio station salesman who cut the deal for the remote at the end of the month at Redemption. We had this planned weeks ago, with an Eat Club dinner to follow. But no menu was forthcoming from the chef. This is a common problem: for some reason, getting a detailed menu from a chef for a special event is a chore. But we are less than three weeks before the event, with my vacation and Mardi Gras cutting out half of that. Emile sounded the alarms and the menu and wine list appeared this evening. Something else for me to do before we leave town tomorrow. Every vacation is preceded by panic.
Yesterday, I brought home a bouquet of roses and other little flowers. I hid it in the tool shed, which I locked. (By what miracle did I find the padlock key?) She unwittingly helped my plan by going to bed early. I fetched it before I retired and had it waiting for her awakening tomorrow.
