Friday, October 29. Meson 923 In Flux. Sazerac In Doldrums. Mary Ann made herself available for dinner, and led me to believe that a festive repast was what she had in mind. Good! I need to take at least one more swing through Meson 923, one of the several big-deal restaurants that have opened during the past year. I wasn't sure we'd be able to get a reservation on such short notice, but there we were at 7:15.
We were seated in the first-floor dining room, at a deuce in the least attractive part of the restaurant. The best view was of the kitchen, but that was from a distance. Last time I was here, we sat upstairs, an incomparably better environment. Mary Ann thought this was funny, especially after she went upstairs to take a look around. Well, as I said, we were lucky to get a reservation at all.
I ordered an interesting martini variation and scanned the menu. It looked the same as last time, but there were lots of untried dishes. When Mary Ann arrived, she fretted that she wouldn't find anything here to eat. She was thinking about the hamachi crudo, until I told her that hamachi was fish, and crudo meant raw.
I saw a new name as executive chef at the bottom of the menu. "What happened to Chris Lynch?" I asked the server. She told me that Chris--formerly the chef at Emeril's--had "moved on." I learned a few days later that this was less than a happy move on Lynch's part, and that some other staff may have left with him.
But the server assured me that the new chef--who'd been there since the restaurant opened--was very good, and that he was in fact working on the fall menu that would appear shortly.
That would be music to most avid diners' ears. But not to mine. "How different will the new menu be?" I asked. Almost totally different, she said. My heart sank. This happens to me all the time. I go to a restaurant I'm trying to write something about, and it proves to be the last night of the old menu.
I looked at Mary Ann. She knew what I was thinking. With an apologetic tone, I asked for the check for the cocktail. I can't afford to eat a meal in a restaurant from which I can't glean useful information. Less for budgetary reasons than because of the limited number of meals I can take in a week.
The waitress was alarmed. She asked me to at least try the mussels, which I'd determined would be my appetizer. "They're fantastic!" she said. Would it be on the new menu? No? Then I can't do it. Besides, we have to hightail it to some other place for dinner. "We'll pick up the check for the drink, then." I refused the offer, mainly so I could give her a $20 tip for her earnestness.
One of the managers stepped up as we waited for the valet to bring my car around. "You sure ate fast!" he said. He did not like hearing why, but he seemed to understand. "As long as I'm talking with you," he said, "I have a bone to pick with you. As much as I've listened to your radio show, you never said how rough a business running a restaurant is."
I laughed. "Why do you think I've never gotten into it?"
It was now after eight. Mary Ann gets too hungry for dinner at eight. We needed something equally nice, and close. How about the Sazerac? Fine, she said.
As it was when I had the magnificent tasting menu two weeks ago, the restaurant was all but empty. One large party was sequestered behind a row of banquettes in the rear. Two more people were four tables from us. That was it.
We were mighty comfy, sitting side-by-side in a banquette where smooching could have gone on in the right set of circumstances. I didn't get my hopes up.
What I did get was a Ramos gin fizz. The one I had last time I was in here was so fine that I a) wanted another, even though that's not a standard drink for me and 2) I wanted to see if they could perfect the drink consistently. They can. This one was, if anything, better than the first.
We began with an unfortunate appetizer choice. Raclette cheese--classically served melting from the heat of a candle--was here melted atop mushrooms. Something about the way it smelled made it revolting to Mary Ann. She ultimately had it removed from the table. I found nothing objectionable about it, although I agreed it wasn't much of a dish.
My starter was better: a quail stuffed with foie gras and topped with a creamy sauce with crawfish. I don't usually cotton to seafood and poultry together, but the foie gras was a unifying force. The presentation was mildly disturbing, looking like a corpse on the plate. But that is what it is, after all, and Halloween is the day after tomorrow.
We both ate meatily. Hers was a bone-in filet mignon, not something you see much. (It's a porterhouse with the strip sirloin cut away, really. Peppercorn sauce there, and a side order of some good fries with an herbal dipping sauce. Mine was lamb chops. The menu offered an option to have one as an appetizer or two as an entree. At ten bucks a chop, may as well get two. The sauce was a tasty blend of natural reduction and some kind of berry-like sweetness.
The pace of service--particularly in the early part of the dinner--was plagued with long gaps. I probably wouldn't have noticed had MA not been there. She was ready to be done with this dinner after the raclette massacree, and she wouldn't let me forget it.
She did permit me to have dessert. Creme brulee loaded with berries. It tasted as good as the photo makes it look.
We're having an Eat Club even in here in a couple of weeks. I hope they import some more effective servers from elsewhere in the building. If not, we'll be here till the wee hours.
Sazerac. CBD: 123 Baronne, Roosevelt Hotel. 504-648-1200.
