Friday, July 13, 2012.
The Comforts Of A Regular Restaurant. (In Every Sense Of The Word "Regular.")
All this week, the show has been livelier than usual. Not just more callers, but better ones. If I could isolate the ether floating around in the atmosphere that causes this, I'd bottle it and go through a case a week.
Maybe it's the weather. A friend I haven't seen in decades theorized that people in New Orleans do crazy things in July. He says it's a combination of increased oxygen from the long, plant-encouraging days with the heat and humidity. It affects me every year, this I know. In July, I always consider shaving my beard. I have never succumbed, keeping my short whiskers continuous since November 8, 1972. Hey! My facial fur will be forty years old this fall. I'd better keep it.
I'm still thinking about steak for dinner almost every night. Charlie's, Crescent City, and Chophouse are at the top of the list. But I had a small steak last night at the Canal Street Bistro, so it won't be tonight. Variety is the sauce of life. And the source, too.
I wound up at Impastato's. I had a mission: to schedule a pre-cruise dinner in September, so our cruisers can meet one another and ask questions. But Joe Impastato was on one of his several annual trips to his homeland of Sicily.
I wonder if he and his brother Sal are there to meet with the people who make Flag olive oil. That's a brand of extra-virgin, green olive oil that was the favorite among New Orleans Italians until Progresso--which had been marketing it--got out of that business. The oil continued to be made in Sicily under the name "SAICA," the initials of a consortium of Sicilian olive growers. It has been my house olive oil for a long time.
Now the Impastato Brothers (their name is on the label) is once again putting up the aromatic oil under the Flag banner. They're selling it in supermarkets around town in two-liter cans and half-liter bottles. They're also putting an olive salad (alla muffuletta) into Flag jars. If there's anything Sal and Joe do better than cook, it's make money.
Long as I was there, I stayed for dinner. The place was busy, but customers weren't in the rafters. Summer. It gets everybody.
Began with a Negroni, which I had to explain to the waitress and the bartender. Wha--? I've never had that problem here before. Then a big plate of the matchless fettuccine Alfredo, followed by a nice romaine salad. Grilled redfish with artichokes and mushrooms reaffirmed my thought that this is my favorite dish at Impastato's. No dessert.
Mary Ann's niece Eileen and hubby Carl Deroche were at the last table before the exit. It would have more peculiar if they hadn't been there. Carl eats at Impastato's at least twice a week. "Joe cooks for him more often than I do!" said Eileen.
With them was their three-year-old daughter Claire. I asked her who is her favorite cousin. I was thinking about the friendship between my daughter Mary Leigh and her cousin Hillary, best buds since babies. (They still are, in their college years--to the delight of all parents involved.) I hoped Claire had the same good luck. But Claire's answer was "Mary Leigh!" She wants to hang with the big girls.
Impastato's. Metairie: 3400 16th St. 504-455-1545.
