Friday, November 16, 2012.
Part-Time Tablecloths And Other Details.
I know when my need for a haircut gets desperate when, passing a mirror, for a fleeting moment it looks as if a large bird has landed on my head. Then, if the wind is blowing or I've just taken off the headphones I wear for three hours every day, my hair puts forth that thoroughly unattractive Bozo The Clown look.
So I called Harold Klein to see if he could work me in. He could, he said, but he had a cold and didn't recommend it. Right. That's the last thing I need right now, still suffering a little from the last one.
Sometime during the morning Mary Ann suggested that we go to R'evolution for dinner tonight. I suggested that getting a reservation would probably be difficult. She didn't think so, but Open Table agreed with me, saying that it had no tables anytime today or tomorrow or next Friday, either, until very late in the evening.
MA called that nonsense, and got on the phone. "Really!" I heard her respond to the unpromising news from the reservationist. She called back after thinking about that for a minute, to find out if we could have dinner in the bar. Yes, the reservationist said, if we could get there by six-thirty. I went along with that, and she seemed to think it would be all right. I already knew we'd wind up there somehow. When Mary Ann decides she's going to do something, she will do it, even if it's in a marginal way.
I managed to escape from the radio station immediately after the show ended. She beat me there, and was holding down a small table in the bar furnished with round, backless stools. "I thought they had booths here," she said. We decided to move to the bar itself, whose chairs had backs. And where I could negotiate with the bartender.
A house cocktail called Henri sounded interesting. French absinthe, Luxardo maraschino liqueur, and Peychaud's bitters were the main ingredients, along with something called Hum. It's a Canadian mixer--a rum with botanicals. I ordered the drink and asked to see the Hum bottle, and perhaps a taste of it straight. Very unusual, a little medicinal (which I like) and bitter at the end (I like that, too). Great drink.
The bar act was impressive. The stock on the back bar was noteworthy in containing a rich stock of offbeat ingredients, and practically none of the flavored vodkas that have taken over so many bars around town.
By now our presence was discovered by one of the managers. He said they had some cancellations and that we could move to the main dining room if we wanted. I was kind of hoping that would happen, although it's not something I ever ask for or even suggested.
We were led to a small but spacious dining room in the center of the restaurant. The tables looked bigger in here. More important, this was the only room I saw with tablecloths. It's decorated with an interesting mural with a French look. Next to the banquette was a small square table for a lady to store her purse. The waiter brought another such table to my banquette, and said it was for my camera bag. They pay attention to details here.
Mary Ann likes charcuterie, and wanted to get the "pig out" board of sausages, pates, and salumi. Ten items, almost enough to make an entire small supper for $20. I wound up eating most of it, because MA only likes a small subset of the charcuterie universe. Most of it was very good. The torchon of foie gras was best. But the hogshead cheese had the worst texture I've ever encountered in that item. The gelatin had not set, and the stuff was spreadable. How did this ever leave the kitchen?
R'evolution's menu here has shrunk since the first edition nine months ago. I expected that. It was absurdly long then. But my impression that the subtractions were the most interesting dishes, with particular reduction of the seafood department. I also noticed that the sirloin strip and porterhouse--the two best steaks in the pantheon, and the ones that benefit most from the dry-aging the kitchen claims--have fallen from the extensive list of steaks.
But many of the appetizers grabbed me, and I went with four small plates instead of an entree. Mary Ann was taken by the pork shank. I asked first whether this would create a timing problem for the kitchen, what with my four courses to MA's one. No problem, said the waiter.
I didn't think I'd have the need to say the next thing, but I did anyway. "And I don't want any two of my courses to come out at the same time."
"Oh, no you don't!" said Mary Ann, remembering the set-to at Zea last week. "You'll wish you hadn't!"
Of course not, said the waiter. They wouldn't make such an obvious gaffe as that.
First came the sizzling oysters on the shell--the Drago's response, but made different with "Bienville butter," which they described as smoky. These were good but unexceptional. Now we had the crab beignets we saw a lot of people eating at the bar. These were the size of ping-pong balls, with big lumps of crabmeat in a creamy sauce inside a thick, fried tempura-like coating. Beneath each beignet was a different shade of remoulade sauce. We liked the sauces, liked the filling, thought the coating was a little oily and too thick.
Now Mary Ann's pork shank came out, and with it my next small plate. Veal sweetbreads, with a variety of sauces squirted about. I like sweetbreads better as an appetizer than as a main, and here was an interesting ensemble of flavors.
But then--as I was on my second bite--here came the steak tartare. "Oh, no," Mary Ann said, sotto voce. I couldn't believe it. It's bad enough to double up, but worse when you specifically asked them not to.
Fortunately, this was a venial sin. I didn't have to worry about the tartare's getting cold. However, even though I went through the sweetbreads faster than I would have liked, I found no appetite for the tartare. Maybe it was because I'd eaten enough, but maybe because it was just sitting there so long. In any case, it didn't move me much.
Meanwhile, MA was not able to eat more than a little of the pork shank. She expected falling-off-the-bone tenderness, but it required sawing, and as she did the interior was pinker than she likes. Eighty percent of this came home.
The dessert was a banana pie that resemble banana pie in no way. (It was a trio of little empanadas, sort of.) Then came the famous jewel box full of after-dinner bonbons. Mary Ann loved that idea.
All reports I've heard about R'evolution have been glowing. It's certainly been open long enough now for a review. But. . . well, I will be back a few more times before I sum up. I will say that the service was excellent, and the price was better than I expected--$155 before tip, with with two glasses of wine.
I can't dope out the absence of tablecloths in a restaurant of these ambitions. I would not accept such a table, that's for sure.
R'evolution. French Quarter: 777 Bienville (in the Royal Sonesta Hotel). 504-553-2277.
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