Friday, June 4, 2010. Stormy Weather. Low Power. Lake House.

Written by Tom Fitzmorris January 17, 2011 22:57 in

Dining Diary

Friday, June 4. Stormy Weather. Low Power. Lake House. The Causeway closed twice today, the blame going to the black clouds, high winds, threat of tornadoes, blasting rainfall, and lightning. That gave me all the excuse I needed to remain at the Cool Water Ranch and hope, as I broadcast the radio show, that lightning wouldn't hit the telephone line that sends my audio back to the studio. [I wonder if I've ever before written a sentence that included three words ending in "-dio".]

Mary Leigh has been on low power since graduation day. She went to the doctor a few days ago to check it out. She was found to have had a common ailment among teenagers that would go away on its own in a few days. This gave her an excuse to sit of the sofa all day long, alternating between watching her new favorite television show Friends (we didn't have television reception when that show was on the air, so it's all new to her) and texting her network of pals.

Sometimes she even talked to me. She says that she feels unconnected to life all of a sudden, and that this is vaguely disturbing. For me to say that I remember how it was when I was her age would have been a non-starter, so I didn't. But I do recall the precise mental state she describes. While recovering from flu-like symptoms (which I always blamed on the breakfast we were fed after the graduation Mass), I too was anxious about no longer having a school to dictate my goals. I found the yawning chasm of The Rest Of My Life opening before me overwhelming. Grabbing at shreds, I began every morning with the exercise routine in our P.E. classes at Rummel--as if that were something I should have taken with me from the school. The silliness of that soon became apparent. I never liked exercising to begin with. I moved on, and the anxiety went away.

Mary Ann said she would be amenable to dinner a deux, since our daughter was hors de combat. [What's with all this French, now?] I suggested we go to Stone's Bistro, a place that opened in Slidell in October. But she had already made a lake crossing today and didn't want to drive that far. "How about the Lake House?" A classic MA plan: to attend a restaurant that's packed to the rafters, with no reservations.

We went there anyway, of course. All the parking spaces were full. People were standing around on the front lawn. This did not bode well for immediate seating. But that would be all right with me. A cocktail sounded good.

But there was no wait. Somehow a table opened up--in a corner, yet, with windows on two sides--and there we were. Many restaurants that came and went over the decades in this old building, and most of them made changes. Nevertheless, my mind connected instantly with the first time I ate here. It was around this time of year in 1974, and I was researching one of the first restaurant articles I ever wrote for New Orleans Magazine. This was Bechac's then--as it had been since the turn of the century. Bechac's had the comportment of a classy restaurant whose advanced age allowed it to be a little tired, worn, and imperfect. It reminded me of places like Maylie's and Antoine's. Old waiters in starched jackets conducted service as if it were mildly religious. But Bechac's was really just a straightforward seafood house, a lot like the restaurants on the opposite shore of Lake Pontchartrain. But I allowed myself to be charmed by the antiquity. Thirty-six years later, with a very hip, young crowd and a creative kitchen, I still am. I didn't bring that up, though. Mary Ann doesn't like old-time restaurants.

Shrimp amuse-bouche at Lake House.

We began with a pretty amuse-bouche, a fried shrimp standing up in a pool of beurre blanc and demi-glace. Cayman Sinclair, the owner (he also has the LA Grill), came by and all but insisted that we try the shrimp and grits. They were barbecue shrimp, in fact, with the heads off--but, as quite a few other restaurants have found, this is a nice combination with the grits.

Shrimp and grits.

Also on the table was a wedge salad made of butter lettuce. Although that's better than iceberg, for some reason I miss the iceberg when the salad is a wedge. Maybe it's something going on between the iceberg's milkiness and the intense blue cheese.

LakeHouse-Parmesan Shrimp-

Shrimp made its third starring appearance tonight in the entree course. MA, the Fried Shrimp Editor for The New Orleans Menu, fell for the parmesan-encrusted fried shrimp--largely because they came with truffled fries, which I must say had my eye, too. She was unimpressed by the shrimp.

LakeHouse-Veal

I followed the waiter's advice and took the nightly special: a sort of two-thirds veal Oscar. The veal--which was sliced too thick for something like this--sat atop the sauce combination that looked and tasted familiar. The photos gave a clue: it looked like the same combination brought under the amuse-bouche. Topped with crabmeat and slightly overdone asparagus, it nevertheless was good enough that I remained in a good mood. We watched it get dark over the lake (no visible sunset this time of year, though) and talked about the usual matters. There are still no plans for vacation.

Bread pudding.

We wrapped up with a slab of bread pudding for me while Mary Ann looked on. When we got home, Mary Leigh was still blobbing on the sofa, her head stopped up.

*** Lake House. Mandeville: 2025 Lakeshore Dr. 985-626-3006. Contemporary Creole.