Mardi Gras, Tuesday, February 21, 2012.
A Mismatched Pair. Farewell To Beef.
The following paragraphs may be the only time I will ever be serious on the subject of Tommy Tucker. Tommy recently rose to the position of morning host on WWL Radio, the top job in the New Orleans radio business. For many years he and I have conducted an on-air feud. Most people know it's a joke, but--as was the case when Jack Benny and Fred Allen carried on a radio shooting match in the 1930s and 1940s--it's a complete fraud, just something to get people talking. We're actually friends.
Last year, when I suddenly was unable to show up for my annual broadcast of Mardi Gras from Gallier Hall (I was in the hospital), Tommy stepped in. This year, it was decided that we would make a good two-person team, with me up on the steps of the old city hall and Tommy down on the street talking to float riders and masqueraders. Sounded good to me. Tommy buttonholed a lot of people and got them to say fun things, and I filled in the gaps with this and that.
I didn't hear anybody complain, but I didn't think this came together. Tommy was doing one show, and I was doing another. We were both trying to get some harmony going, but it wasn't happening. Not even the feud shtick was working. The fault was probably mine. Only a few people have ever blended well with my act. (Notably Terrell Robinson, my long-time traffic reporter.)
I think there's something to be learned from this, but I'm not sure what.
The parades were superb. Zulu ran much later than usual. The reason, I think, is that it was the longest parade they ever mounted, with an unusually large number of bands. By the time we signed off the air at two, only the first one-third of Rex had passed. Usually Rex is long gone and we're slogging through a few dozen truck floats.
For all this I was thankful. Rex gives plenty to comment on. (The LSU Marching Band, for example, was nothing less than astonishing in its size and tightness.) Truck floats--not much to say. One Who Dat after another.
Hardy Fowler was Rex. For the third time in the past four years, Rex is a younger man than I am. I don't like this trend one bit.
I tried to make up for it with a robust lunch. Every Mardi Gras for over thirty years, I have gone to the Crescent City Steak House after the midday parades. There I not only have a juicy, sizzling, USDA Prime, dry-aged sirloin strip, but by doing so I say farewell to beef until the end of Lent. (Or until I can't resist having another steak, whichever comes first.)
When I started this personal tradition, I was the only customer in the dining room. No more. Today they were waiting for an hour before the place opened. The Vojkovich family flatters me by reserving a table. As happened today, sometimes I don't need it: I knew eighty percent of the people in the room, one of them, invites me to join them. It's a couple who has been to many of our Eat Club dinners over the years. They're also Mardi Gras Crescent City regulars.
The Crescent City menu doesn't change much. Krasna Vojkovich made her wonderful tripe stew and brought us a plate of it. And her sun-dried figs from her own trees in Croatia. And some Croatian cheese. I had a salad (they seem to have improved this tremendously since last year) and a sirloin strip as fine as any I ever had here. And only $26, compared with the $40s we're seeing in other premium steakhouses around town.
A number of friends brought bottles of wine with them. My tablemates had a 1996 Gaia Clare Valley Australian red monster, and a 1997 Clarendon Hills Llandia Shiraz. Dr. Tom David donated some 2005 Miller Syrah, a magnificent wine. And longtime winery representative Kevin Theard gave us what was left of a 1983 and 1996 Beringer Cabernet. Good day for wine-drinkers here.
An hour in, I was made aware of the presence of Clark, The Gourmet Truck Driver. I stood up, binged on a wine glass, and introduced him to the room. He got a round of applause, some of which came from people who had no idea who he was. Most of them did, though.
Bread pudding. Café au lait times two. Take the back way to avoid the clotted traffic around the Zulu headquarters two blocks from the steakhouse. Home. Happy Mardi Gras!
Crescent City Steak House. Mid-City: 1001 N Broad. 504-821-3271.
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.
