Friday, October 21, 2011.
Big Party At Le Foret.
Thirty-eight degrees at seven in the morning. Two days in a row in the thirties. This looks serious.
Among the advents of late autumn one of the happiest for me is the arrival of the season's first oranges. On one of her trips out earlier this week Mary Ann brought back four sacks of them. They were big and heavy, the better to make juice from. (I squeeze two to four oranges almost every day.) But I didn't know until today that these were Florida oranges--the first I've been able to buy from that state since the 2003-04 season. Freezes and hurricanes in 2004 and 2005 did so much damage to the Florida orchards that most of the crop has gone into frozen concentrate since then.
California oranges are prettier, but Florida oranges are topped only by our own Louisiana navels in the quality of their juice. I knew these were Florida fruits from the moment I cut into the first one. Hamlin oranges! That variety is first to make it to market every year. The flesh is not orange, but pale yellow. The juice has a vaguely pineapple flavor. After the Hamlins come Temple oranges, a variety grown only in Florida (I think). I hope those make it down here.
Danny Millan and the owners of Le Foret--the restaurant he manages--volunteered their services for a major fundraising event for the Ochsner Foundation. A lady with breast cancer had run out of options when she showed up at Ochsner, which cured her. She thereupon donated a big number of dollars to the hospital's foundation if some of it could be used to attract other donors. Tonight, 350 people showed up to the tune of $10,000 per table of six. It featured the food of John Besh, Dominique Macquet, and (of all people) Frank Brunacci. He was the original chef of Victor's, the top-end restaurant in the Ritz-Carlton Hotel here when it first opened in 2000.
It began in a tent that blocked traffic on Camp Street at rush hour--which should tell what a big deal this was. Appetizers prepared by Le Foret's kitchen were served with a rich assortment of wines, cocktails, and Hennessy XO Cognac. Also passing food around was Le Foret's little next-door neighbor, Red Gravy, a cute little Italian lunch and breakfast spot.
Filling the tent was an assemblage of people who--save for a few restaurant and media people--were unfamiliar to me. A few of them knew me, though, and when I was pulled into conversation I learned that they were mostly doctors, with a good sprinkling of cancer survivors and those related to survivors. I am a big fan of Ochsner (they fixed my ankle and, a few years ago, my eyes), so our conversations were happy.
A live auction preceded the dinner. One item: a Saints team football, autographed by the whole Super Bowl-winning force. It sold for high four figures. My mind went unavoidably to a similar team football a friend gave me about fifteen years ago. One day, unnoticed, it disappeared. It would not turn up until after Katrina, when I saw it nearly covered by leaves in the woods. Apparently the kids had been playing with it and left it on the lawn. The dog took the lateral and carried it into the woods. I hope the donor of that ball never reads this.
The dinner filled all four floors of Le Foret. We began with jumbo lump crabmeat with truffles and gnocchi--the signature appetizer from Besh's Restaurant August. Now sea scallops from Dominique. He came to the table himself to tell me he though the scallops had been overcooked. I wouldn't have raised the issue at a charity event, but he was right about that. The dish was saved by the presences of a) lima beans, since all seafood tastes good with beans and 2) sweetbreads. Yum.
The dish of the night was Brunacci's filet mignon, served atop a puree of parsley, with both a variation on bearnaise and a jus. Also on the plate were some panneed vegetables and hazelnuts. Almost as spectacular as the flavor was the fact that it had been served to so many people and came out hot. (Steaks for a banquet are a longshot for being even good, let alone excellent.)
I didn't think it would look right for me to walk around this long party with a camera bag, so I used my phone to snap the not-very good photos. Maybe I need a good little camera for moments like this.
We finished up with desserts from the Jean-Luc Albin, with whom I spoke at length during the party in the tent. He owns Maurice's French Pastries in Metairie. Jean-Luc was listening a couple of days ago when we discussed baba au rhum on the radio show. I had said I didn't know where one could find them anymore. "We make them all the time!" he said. "It's my favorite dessert. Ours are done the right way. You must try them!"
Mary Ann and I were on the top floor with the other media deadbeats. I wanted to pay my way, but Danny said it was sold out. I tried to buy something at the auction, but the other bidders had more wherewithal. I will write a check to Ochsner.
It started clearing out at around eleven. When we got downstairs, however, the bar was full and the tent outside had a band rolling along, playing standards. Someone asked the band to let me sing, which even I thought was a bad idea. I threw out a song. They didn't know it. End of crisis.
"We need to go home anyway," said my wife, who had been thinking that for about two hours already.
Le Foret. CBD: 129 Camp. 504-553-6738.
It's over three years since a day was missed in the Dining Diary. To browse through all of the entries since 2008, go here.
