Friday, July 23, 2010. Brennan's. The weathermen say that Bonnie may become a minimal hurricane, and that it will strike New Orleans head-on as a tropical storm tomorrow. Everyone seems to be yawning. After Katrina, storms like this seem like nothing--although Diane Newman at the radio station says that my show may be canceled tomorrow for heavy hurricane coverage. I can't figure out why she wouldn't just leave me there. I've covered hurricanes on the air since 1978, and I was on the air anchoring the reportage the night before Katrina and a few other storms. I hate being pigeonholed as Johnny One-Note.
Mary Ann offered herself as a dinner date. I suggested Brennan's, and she went along gladly. The restaurant was busy with a party upstairs, and the VIP room was nearly full. Meanwhile, Tales Of The Cocktail was swirling around the French Quarter, and the streets were full. It was not the usual dull summer night.
The chef started us off with a demi-soft-shell crab for an amuse. I thought I saw a new appetizer at the top of the list, but it proved to be a new name for what used to be called crepes Barbara. Obviously, a political problem had been raised by the old name. Barbara is Pip Brennan's wife, and Pip is now out of the restaurant's management. I stuck with the seafood crepes after I learned this, because I haven't had them in a long time. Some people are crazy about the dish; I am not one of those.
The next course, however, kept me the thrall of Brennan's turtle soup, which remains the best anywhere. I think I could eat this stuff every day for a year and never get tired of it.
I don't remember seeing a dish called veal pecan before. The waiter assured me not only that this was indeed a relatively new dish, but a very good one, topped with crabmeat. It was the big local lump crabmeat, too, not the out-of-season kind I've seen here now and then. Medallions of veal were encrusted with ground pecans and sauteed with what looked and tasted like a meuniere sauce. It was an oversize portion and a shade heavy. I think the main culprit was the sauce; they ought to think about altering this with a cream sauce. But good enough.
Mary Ann's order at Brennan's is always predictable. She gets a salad, then a piece of trout, topped either with crabmeat or (as today) almonds. That's always a great dish at Brennan's, and was again today.
MA is not a dessert eater, and I feel silly getting a flamed dessert for one. In lieu of bananas Foster, I sampled the bread pudding--which, oddly, is not something they've served here in a long time, if ever. The sauce was unnaturally colored a bright yellow, but this had no effect on the good, custardy flavor.
I spoke at length with the waiters and the new maitre d'. He knew I was somebody, but not exactly what I did. In none of these conversations was it mentioned that, five days ago, Jimmy Brennan had died. That would be the most important possible news in this restaurant. I would not learn about it for five more days, when Jimmy's brother Ted called to tell me. Jimmy and Ted each own a third of Brennan's (Pip still owns the other third). If anyone here knew about Jimmy's demise, they were keeping it a secret, one that would remain from the public until I announced it on the air on July 28. But Jimmy always was a very private man.
Brennan's. French Quarter: 417 Royal, 504-525-9711.
