Friday, March 5. Ristorante Filippo. The Marys were going to have dinner with me tonight. But my heart sank when I found four commercial production orders waiting for me at the radio station. It takes between fifteen minutes and a half hour to write and produce a spot. That meant we wouldn't start dinner until eight-thirty or later. Too late for my girls, who are up at the crack of dawn. I would dine alone tonight.
I wandered around the Uptown area without a dinner inspiration, and still didn't have one as I cross the parish line at River Road. Then a specific hunger manifested itself: Italian. Specifically, something with bread crumbs, garlic, olive oil, and herbs. Ding! Ristorante Filippo. Right on my way. They were finishing what looked like a busy evening (the parking lot was almost full). I grabbed a corner table in the bar, four tables away from a crying baby who I think was family. I used to despise that sound, but after having had my own, I'm totally tolerant.
First course would have to be oysters areganata, Chef Phil Gagliano's take on Italian oysters (alla Mosca's). The difference he brings to this is to use much more olive oil and a more assertive herb component. And here it was, bubbling away. I looked at it and knew that the dumbest thing I could do was to lift an oyster with a pile of the crumby, garlic-scented, hot-olive-oil-drenched topping and stick it into my mouth immediately. Of course, I did that anyway. Just like one is tempted to do when a pizza right out of the oven arrives. You know that the inevitable mouthful of seared flesh that inevitably follows will not be pleasant, and you'll be moving the lava-like food around your mouth while sucking in gusts of air to try to cool it down. No way to take something like that out of your mouth. And that's how good that dish is. No person with a passion for food could resist.
My hunger for Creole-Italian stuffing was not sated by the half-dozen oysters. So, after the house salad, here came chicken spedini. That's chicken breast meat flattened out and rolled around more of the bread crumb-garlic-herb concoction, along with a layer of ham. The outside was crumb-coated, too. They brought me three of these pinwheels. One would have been enough, but I ate two and brought the other home--another tribute, because I almost never leave restaurants with a go-box. The pasta was covered with chunky tomatoes and herbs and also very good.
No room for dessert. Chef Phil told me he wanted to have another Eat Club here, after the success of the dinner eight months ago. I'm game for that.
One thing in this dinner misfired: my new camera. I guess my settings were wrong--I haven't figured out all its intricacies, and I've misplaced the owner's manual. But all the photos of the food here came out too dark to do anything much with, which is why they look funny.
Ristorante Filippo. Metairie: 1917 Ridgelake 504-835-4008. Creole Italian.
