Friday, May 7. Di Cristina's. I did the radio show from home today. I almost wish I hadn't. During the program, something from the underworld reached into my computer and started screwing around with it. It looked like a virus, but with a new twist: it masqueraded as the anti-virus program. It wasn't as virulent as the last one I had a couple of years ago. That one did so much damage it was easier to buy a new computer than it was to disinfect the old one. This time, I called McAfee, which will enter your machine by long distance and clean it out for you. It cost $90. I don't know why I have to pay this, since I already have McAfee on all my computers and keep it religiously up to date. They said it was something I did. It wasn't worth arguing about. The whole thing was a sharp pain in the left temple.
Between the radio show and the computer delousing, Mary Ann and I went to dinner at DiCristina's, near the St. Tammany Parish Courthouse in Covington. DiCristina's has some family connection with Rocky and Carlo's in Chalmette. Its menu shows more than a few similarities to that St. Bernard mecca for overeaters. The food is that of a neighborhood restaurant, plus the menu of a family-style Italian trattoria. Poor boys to pasta sums it up.
They were busier than I expected, given that we didn't get there until about eight. Without trying, we ordered a staggering amount of food, beginning with an order of onion rings. They're in the same category with Charlie's Steakhouse's rings: sliced thin, fried with a light flour batter, hot and crisp. We've finally made it to the point where we split a lot of dishes to prevent eating too much, but this defeated that strategy: a single order of these onion rings could have served four hungry people.
For some reason, I thought a salad was necessary. Not only was it not, but it was big enough for two side salads of normal size. I'm glad I specified Italian dressing instead of something mayonnaisey.
Mary Ann's main was a soft shell crab of enormous girth and reach, spread out over a plain of angel-hair pasta with a creamy sauce. This was visually arresting but a little distressing, since the sauce covered the crab, and the steam from the pasta (it clearly had come straight out of the pot) made it hard for the crab to stay crisp. But given the price (around $15) there was no room for complaint. This was a very big, fresh crab.
I came here to refresh my memory about two major specialties from Rocky's. I could perform the entire investigation with a single dish: chicken parmesan. The chicken was exactly what I expected: a large breast that had probably been pre-baked, then covered with mozzarella cheese and red sauce and run under the broiler. At best, this is a cheap thrill--and it was at its best. The chicken was cooked just right--still juicy. There was too much melted cheese and way too much thick, sweet red sauce--but that's the essence of the cheap thrill. If you have an appetite for this sort of thing--and I did this night--you'll love it.
But the most celebrated of all the cheap thrills here (and at Rocky's) is baked macaroni and cheese. I believe that macaroni and cheese is strictly for kids, and for those who want to pretend that they're still as carefree as they were when they were eleven. I will be a little less strident about that when discussing this particular version of it. It was made with long, narrow pasta tubes, baked with a lot of cheese but also with an eggy bechamel that almost (but not quite) held the pasta together. It was for me like that moment when the restaurant critic in the movie Ratatouille eats the rat chef's ratatouille. This macaroni and cheese was exactly the way my mother cooked it. It touched me deep inside my flavor-and-texture cortex. I could not stop eating it until I truly could not eat any more. Which, of course, left over half of it.
I had not left room for dessert, but I got it anyway. Bread pudding. Very light, very good, nice and hot, good alcoholic sauce. Not like my mother's, but good. I brought half of it home, of course.
I told the waitress that except for the tiny portions, it was a good dinner. She laughed, not taking me seriously for a second. That reaction meant that nobody ever accuses DiCristina's of serving too little food. Given the number of large loads in St. Tammany Parish--guys who can consume any amount of food and still want more--this is quite a statement. The quantities are gross, but this is what the North Shore (and St. Bernard) like in a restaurant. You can't fault a businessman for knowing what his customers want.
DiCristina's. Covington: 810 N. Columbia. 985-875-0160. Neighborhood Café.
