Friday, January 21, 2011. Talking To Doctors At Arnaud's. I used to give a lot more speeches to groups than I do now. I still get asked, but my all-time-consuming workload makes such engagements--especially at lunchtime--very difficult. A group of doctors and medical management people contacted me months ago and hit the sweet spot. Tonight, Arnaud's. Friday night is one of my few loose times, and Arnaud's will always get me.
The event was in The Count's Ballroom, a marvelous space of a size rarely seen in independent restaurants. It has a wood parquet floor, and indeed looks like a great place for a ball.
During cocktails it turned out that I was not a stranger to most of these people, not even the ones from Baton Rouge. Those had heard my Saturday show on WWL, which comes into Baton Rouge like a local station.
Dinner was an Arnaud's Greatest Hits repast, beginning with a pairing on shrimp Arnaud (remoulade) and crawfish Bourgeois (with a mayonnaise-based sauce). Then their very well-made, dark-roux seafood gumbo. Two entree choices: pan-broiled drumfish with brown butter and crabmeat, or a filet mignon with peppercorns. (Fish for me.)
I took up the microphone when the waiters started flaming the dessert. I noted that these were the best bananas Foster in town, but that I was a little disappointed that a different dessert had not been served. I turned to the waiters. "And of course you know which dessert I'm talking about."
I expected a snicker. I got puzzlement. "Strawberries Arnaud?" a waiter asked. No, of course not, guess again. "Creme brulee?" No! "Chocolate devastation?" No! No! Come on! Surely you-- "Bread pudding Fitzmorris," one finally guessed. Sheesh!
I began my talk to the docs with three anecdotes I've told at every public appearance for thirty years. They always get a laugh, and when I ask if anyone has heard the stories before, nobody raises a hand. That record continued. I told them about eh restaurant count, which always gets applause. Then cajoled them to disseminate the facts about Louisiana seafood--that none of it in the edible stream is contaminated.
A half-hour of questions ended when the boss of the outfit shut me down. This is a weekend retreat for doctors who manage hospitals, and for some of them the day begins at seven tomorrow.
At nine-thirty, I was lured into the French 75 bar downstairs by Lisa Sins, the sales boss at Arnaud's. (Her namesake dish on the menu is the perfectly appropriate "Sweetbreads Sins.") She asked me to wait while she finished with a couple planning their wedding. I filled the time with a very pleasant in conversation with Katie Casbarian, daughter of the late Archie Casbarian. Archie rebuilt Arnaud's into the magnificent restaurant it is in 1979. Katie, her brother Archie Jr., and her mom Jane manage Arnaud's now. If there were any major problems at Arnaud's, she didn't impart them. Arnaud's is looking and tasting better than ever.
Bartender Chris Hannah--who is becoming a celebrity for his mixological deftness--insisted that I have an after-dinner concoction made with one of the weirdest of all cordials: Cinar, made in Italy from artichokes. I tasted this about thirty years ago and though surely it was the nastiest stuff on any bar in the world. It's a measure of Chris's skill that he has created not one but several good drinks with the stuff.
Sweetbreads Sins wanted to discuss my upcoming birthday dinner at Arnaud's. I had the Big Five-Oh here, and it was good enough for a reprise ten years later. The date and the room were set, and Chef Tommy DiGiovanni has been advised to start thinking of a menu. I can hardly wait.
Arnaud's. French Quarter: 813 Bienville. 504-523-5433.
