Friday, June 25. Nature Busts Out All Over. Café Giovanni. A mind-bending hot day, with both air-conditioning systems just pumping away. I took a walk to re-focus my eyes after several hours at the desk. The meadow by the pont has grass up to my waist. I haven't cut it this year so far, but the last time I looked it didn't need to be. That tells me how long it's been since I went for a walk around the grounds. The recent rains are making all the plants happy. The four cypress trees I planted in 1991--finally taller than I am--look healthier than ever. Along my trail through the woods, the funny ferns that grow only there have filled their little clearing with lushness. But not much else is greening the floor of the woods. The canopy of tall pines and black tupelos have filled in most of the gaps ripped open by Hurricane Katrina, and not much direct sunlight filters down.
Something else I noticed: the queedle-deep bird and the other species that have serenaded me on my woods stroll were not to be heard. It's too hot even for them.
Mary Leigh wanted to have lunch with me, which was enough to make me plan to stay home with the radio show. Then a couple of frantic messages came in from one of the radio salespeople, needing me to come in and record a couple of commercials. It makes me sad to tell my daughter no, especially when it's her idea to go out. But it's not like we never dine together, either. She asked me a few days ago whether we could have dinner together once a week after she moves into the dorms at Tulane next year. I almost cried with joy at the thought of it.
Dinner at Café Giovanni. I don't go often enough for my taste. The singers were mostly new to me. I knew the sole male, but only one of the women, and I didn't recognize the pianist. This had no impact on the music, though, and I tipped them a twenty up front, sat back and enjoyed. The new mezzo-soprano has a very sweet voice with a lot of power when she needs it. (It almost sounds like I'm describing a car, doesn't it?)
The restaurant was very busy, and if I hadn't gone back to the kitchen to say hello to Chef Duke before I left, I wouldn't have seen him at all. He knew I was there, though, and embarrassed me as usual by sending out a gut-buster of a meal. I started with his seafood Caprese salad--a slice of tomato, a slice of mozzarella, and a mixture of crabmeat, shrimp, and crawfish in a kind of ravigote sauce. This was about twice as big as I remembered it, and almost a meal in itself.
Some gumbo came out unordered. Then ravioli bolognese, as luscious as ever, but again about twice as big as my appetite could handle. The entree was a departure from anything I've ever had here before, but it addressed my tastes of the moment. Fried catfish, little filets, coated in cornmeal. With a million little sides. Crisp, light, just right. I could only eat two of the five fillets.
And, as if I needed it, Chef Duke sent out a beautiful lamb chop with polenta. As fantastic as it looked, I could not take even a bite. Café Giovanni, The Home Of Too Much Great Food, he ought to put on his sign.
You can't sing well when your stomach is full, so I didn't ask if I could take a number with the ensemble.
When I arrived home, Mary Ann was cleaning the house. At eleven at night? Yes. Jude is coming for a visit in three days, and the place must look perfect for him. With an invalid dog lying around the kitchen all day, this will be more challenging than usual.
Cafe Giovanni. French Quarter: 117 Decatur. 504-529-2154. Italian.
