Friday, July 29, 2011.
Late For Champagne At Antoine's.
Yesterday on my way to the radio station, I fought through a blinding thunderstorm all the way from the Causeway-I10 interchange to downtown. It was like going through a car wash, except that it didn't clean the car. It happened again today, in the same place--but even heavier. So much water came down so fast that even on the just-built portion of the expressway water was standing in numerous unexpected places. You couldn't go faster than about thirty without losing both control of the wheel and sight of the car in front of you.
But when I arrived downtown, it wasn't raining at all. A strange weather year, one that makes us wonder what the hurricane gods have in store for us next month.
Antoine's held its annual midsummer Champagne Soiree tonight. I have been talking it up, so I am expected to make an appearance. But on my virtual desk at the radio station were four orders for commercials, all of them starting Monday. I needed to write and record them after the show. I didn't get to Antoine's until seven-thirty, by which time most of the food was gone. The waiters, however, jumped on the situation and brought me a plate of most of what had been on the buffet, nice and hot from the kitchen. The party was a big success, with 145 people filling the Japanese Room, the Twelfth Night Revelers Room, and one more (it has a name but I don't know what it is).
Case #56-237 from the New Orleans Incest File: John Dildy, whose father was Mary Ann's obstetrician when both our kids were born, was at the Soiree. He was also with me at the Windsor Court's bar a few minutes before I broke my ankle. He was happy to see me walking again. I got the drift that he felt some small blame for my accident. He certainly had no part in it. I claim all the credit for my overindulgence.
Mary Ann was in attendance, talking with the financial aid boss of Tulane. I hope she wasn't twisting his arm, although I can understand the temptation. I don't think we're going to get any kind of discount on Mary Leigh's tuition this year. We're a shade too successful. That puts us in the same category as those who are much too successful. But in these days, no distinction is made.
The Champagne Soiree broke up around nine. MA and I each had our own cars, so she left me behind. I was in need of dessert and coffee. I re-entered the front room of Antoine's, and asked whether they would mind serving me just those things. I know they hate such orders. But I also know that the raison d'etre of restaurants like Antoine's is taking care of their long-time regulars. They'd be happy to, they said. Two consecutive cups of Antoine's powerful coffee came (what was I thinking?). Then the waiter brought me a small square of pecan bread pudding. "I thought you might like this with your coffee," he said.
Of all the pleasures available from restaurants, moments like that are my favorites.
