It was a busy weekend of chasing food again. Immediately after Friday’s show, we left for the South Shore with a tight schedule. Gabrielle has been posting their $20 fish plate on IG, and it looked good. Each preceding week it was sold out before we could get to it, but there were plates available online on Friday.
The Commissary also posted a fish plate which looked even better, but they closed at 6pm. It would be tight. I figured by the time we drove around and finished eating those two in the car, the line at St. Catherine in Metairie might be manageable. I wish I was kidding about that.
We arrived at Gabrielle to an unbelievable mess in front. The streets are being dug up and dug deep. We had to drive the wrong way down the street in front which was barricaded anyway. I immediately felt sorry for the Sonniers, these two married restaurateurs who have had a nomadic struggle since Katrina.
Once inside, I chatted with their lovely and sweet daughter Gabby, for whom the restaurant is named. Within minutes of our arrival Patty, our producer, walked in to pick up plates for dinner that evening. I had to go back to the car to be with Tom. Patty kindly delivered the plate when it was out of the fryer.
It was hot to the touch and even hotter to eat. It was fried perfectly golden brown and crispy. The flakes were white and thicker than the catfish I am used to seeing. It seemed much heftier than catfish. I called the restaurant to see what it was, not expecting the answer I got. It was the controversial Vietnamese Swai! I wish I hadn’t finished eating it before I called, but I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it.
Wondering where else we may be eating this fish, the next call I made was to a local fish purveyor who is a good friend. He explained that strict laws prevent any restaurant from calling any fish other than American catfish that name on their menus. And Gulf fish on menus in restaurants of this caliber could be any fish from our gulf. I feel safer after that call and sadder and wiser.
The fish was good, and at least I know what I am hearing about with these conversations about Vietnamese fish. But I don’t want to eat it again, so I will be suspicious next time I see “fish” all by itself on a menu.
As for the rest of the plate, it was good. I don't usually eat potato salad, but this was unusual in its textures and tastes. Large uneven chunks of potatoes and other chunky vegetables were mixed with mayo and mustard and maybe even olives (but I couldn’t be sure since I was driving.) The other side on the plate was an ordinary coleslaw. Tom swooned over the little chocolate chip cookie that came with the plate.
We ate off the dashboard because we had to get to the next Fish Fry pick-up, all the way over at The Commissary.
Our window was a little tighter now and I was afraid we’d miss the Commissary, but when we arrived at 5:50 no one was in any hurry to rush us. People ate at the bar, happily consuming their great housecut fries. It made me want some, even though the plate came with bean salad and coleslaw.
While I was standing at the register where the cashier made me feel welcome and valued instead of bothersome and stupid (because we arrived 10 minutes before closing) I noticed a blackboard listing their St. Patrick’s Day specials featuring corned beef. I knew these would also be wonderful (since I have never had anything here that wasn’t) but I just had to look away and ignore the voice inside that urged me to return the following day.
The contrast between these two plates was stark. Both were good, but The Commissary offered one slab of wild Des Allemands catfish, a pile of fried shrimp, a smaller portion of bean and corn salad, and a smaller portion of coleslaw with a slab of cakelike cornbread glazed with honey. This was just $15. The quality of this plate was far superior to the other and it was $5 less. I have become obsessed with analyzing value in this post-COVID world.
We also picked up some housecut fries from the Commissary, mainly because there was a line of people at the bar enjoying them. I had forgotten that they do them here, and they are very good.
This next Gen group from the Dickie and Lauren Brennan faction of the Dick Brennan family tree branch is adhering to the high standards that made the Brennan name what it is. And they are putting a fresh and modern spin on the delicious and traditional food for which their hometown is celebrated. Good for them. Even better for us.
We ate this one in the car as well, and we really could have made it to St. Catherine on the way across the lake. But I just didn't have it in me. One of Tom's favorite expressions came to mind: "You can't do everything." I wish I could remember that more often. I certainly need to now, with only five Fridays to eat Fish Frys.
