March 19th is Italian Day in New Orleans. I haven’t a drop of Italian blood in me, but that is not required to be enthralled with the culinary and cultural contributions from that European boot to this American one.
The Sicilians brought deliciousness to New Orleans, and many charming cultural traditions. The most prominent fusion of food and culture occurs on March 19th, when St. Joseph is celebrated. He is revered all over the Western world of course, but in New Orleans he is celebrated specifically for saving Sicily from famine. The most prominent feature of this celebration is the St. Joseph’s altar, which is about gratitude.
When the Sicilians arrived in New Orleans in such great numbers at the turn of the 20th century, the French Quarter became the Italian Quarter for a while. They influenced culture, but mostly food in the most delicious way, so much so that I think many people consider the Italian influence on par with the French, Spanish and Creole. I certainly do.
It is with this admiration that I have lately considered the pursuit of Italian food in general and St. Joseph’s Day altars in particular a worthy pastime on March 19th. I started the day on the Northshore with lunch at Lola, a favorite spot. They had a classic Bolognese on the specials board as a nod to the tradition.
ML liked this far more than I did. It was not bad, just not up to their usual excellence. The sauce was well-integrated with the rotini pasta. There was a tinge of sweetness to this that I attributed to tiny bits of carrot. A dusting of Parmesan was nice and it was accompanied by their housemade focaccia that had been toasted into garlic bread. I have never been a fan of this bread, but these additions made it more palatable.
As soon as the show was over I headed south to visit these altars, intending to eat something. But I am a bystander to this sacred tradition and I was unaware that sampling anything from the altar is forbidden until the end. I learned this after I picked up a cookie at the enormous and gorgeous altar at St. Francis Xavier cafeteria in Metairie. Good thing it was a cookie and not a leaf from a stuffed artichoke! Next year I have to be around to see the breakdown of these cultural masterpieces.
From there I went to Angelo Brocato’s, an utterly unique Old World emporium we are lucky to call our own. They had a full menu of Italian St. Joseph’s Day specialties. The line was so long I couldn’t wait, so I took a pic of the altar and moved on.
From there I went to Domenica, with the intention to eat. There was a small St. Joseph’s Day menu which included a dessert I wanted to try, the Sfincia di San Giuseppe. The altar was smallish but very nice, and I wanted some of the gorgeous breads. I sat and ordered the crawfish stuffed artichoke.
The Milanese was also an option, and I’m glad it wasn’t a prix fixe, because I had the Milanese before and I don’t need to do it again. It is a meatless dish with breadcrumbs and it is studded with currants as per the Sicilian holdover from the Ottoman occupation of the island.
I did not get the Guiseppe dessert because I planned to have it at Brocato’s when I returned for a smaller line. The artichoke was wonderful, but I didn’t finish it because I had a tight schedule. Back to Brocato’s where the line was even longer this time than earlier. I will have to prepare a better strategy for next year.
From there I went to AVO because last year they had the most delicious and sophisticated altar I’d ever seen. The fig cookies were so good I was going to buy a bag of them this year. But they didn’t have it. My lack of preparation strikes again.
.jpg)
My last stop before heading home was to Fausto’s, where I’d heard they had one. This was not surprising because Irene’s altar is legendary. Irene is the sister of brothers Fausto and Roland, who formerly owned and ran the eponymous restaurant. They sold it over a year ago, and the current owner Michael Vicari has kept the practice. Good for him. It’s a lot of work. It was a nice size and they had the most generous little bag of cookies of them all.
Fausto’s had the requisite artichoke/Milanese, etc. menu, so I didn't stay, but it’s fun to go to any of these places and just be in the spirit of the event, even if you are eating far more delicious regular food.
It was a fun evening, sampling these altars around town. Such traditions keep us grounded in the timelessness through which generations of humanity come and go.
