Martinique Transformed For A Day

[title type="h6"]August 22, 2013. [/title] Martinique has been on my mind, as I hear reports of much more ambitious and better food than we found the last time we tried it a few years ago. It was never less than good, but was never quite the equal of many comparable neighbors on Magazine, The Street Of Gourmet Bistros. I went there a month or two ago on a Monday night. How was I to know that they transform the restaurant into an Italian trattoria, like the one the owners operate in Houma? That was a very fine evening of dining, though, so my hopes rose high enough for me to try again tonight--this time with the regular French-Caribbean-Creole-American menu they serve routinely. It was early and, except for a few people in the courtyard and a few more at the bar, the place was still empty. The next several parties were smart enough to get out of the hot outdoor weather and into the cool inside dining rooms. Mary Ann would not have allowed that move, which almost made me glad I was flying solo. Those first others in the room were interesting to me. By their dress and the tone of their talk--jovial, but in a rational way--they reminded me of the people you see at Clancy's, the Upperline, and Gautreau's. Mary Ann would do all she could to get away from such people. I like them, of course. The du jour was she-crab soup. That's a Southeastern, Carolinas kind of thing, made as advertised from female crabs. The reason for this is to have some of the roe to stir into the soup. I didn't see any roe, but that may be because it's illegal to catch female crabs gravid with eggs. (For obvious reasons.) There was a good deal of claw crabmeat, and the soup was a pretty pale orange with just about the right amount and richness of cream. I needed to add a few squirts of Tabasco, but that's not a flaw. Big, big bowl of the stuff for the price. They have great bread here. I had already eaten too much of it, but couldn't stop. The middle course was a salad of fresh beets. These seem to be on every menu in town lately--a good development, if you ask me. This particular shuffling of the disks was camouflaged by thickets of micro greens and baby arugula. Just right. The server answered my questions about the pecking order of entrees with several options, of which the one she seemed to like best was the flank steak. More questions were needed about that. Was it sliced in the kitchen. Sliced thin? Sliced across the grain? All the answers she gave (yes, yes, and yes) were correct. I gave her the go. When it came out, the waiter (everybody works together here) told me to watch out, because the plate was very hot. And it was. Why, I can't answer. Underneath the several slices of beef in its reddish-brown sauce were what looked like potatoes. I speared one and popped it into my mouth, ready to maneuver if it were searing hot. But it was cold! Not lukewarm, but actually cold, as if it had been made for a salad. However, the cubes around the sides were warmer. Curious. Next time my main server came by, I asked whether these spuds were meant to be a salad. Sort of, but not exactly, is what I took her to mean. I rephrased the question. Are they supposed to be cold? Yes, she said. It's supposed to be cold, but it was served on a hot plate? I kept that to myself. I can understand that some people like surprises and incongruous juxtapositions. I'm a junkie for clarity, though, and when I can't make out the intentions of the cook in a few moments of independent thought, I get mildly miffed. This matter wasn't worth ruining my meal. I accepted it for what it was, instead of what it might have been. The steak had its own small issue. I don't have especially good teeth, which is why I asked those questions about the slicing earlier. Flank steak is by its nature a chewy cut of beef. That's not a deal-killer, though. It just needs to be sliced thinner than this. If it hadn't been marinated, it should have been. The dinner ended well with a profiterole--something I haven't had in a long time. It was like the classic served in the old days at the Caribbean Room: choux pastry (as for creampuffs), ice cream, chocolate sauce. Nice. Soothing. [title type="h5"]Martinique. Uptown 3: Napoleon To Audubon: 5908 Magazine. 504-891-8495. [/title]