During the first week of January 2017, the mechanism that pulls the daily Dining Diary entries into the e-mail edition of the NOMenu Daily malfunctioned. I am once again amazed by the number of people who wrote to me about this lack. The Dining Diary has always been the most-read part of the daily newsletter. And I'm sorry for the problem.
Below are all the days that were missing a diary, in ascending order. As always, the Dining Diary is always a few days behind the actual events described in it. Thanks for subscribing.
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Thursday, December 29, 2016 Jackson Is Presented To Society.
This is the first visit our one-year-old grandson has been to New Orleans. At this season the time is perfect for us to introduce him to our friends and family. Mary Ann set up a party at Andy's Bistro in Metairie, where many logical guests live. Andy's has just returned from a lengthy pause caused by a bad fire in the kitchen. A lot of people were hanging out in the bar and having dinner, and we were on the second floor--a space I've long known was there, but which I haven't thought about in a long time. Here were two of my three sisters, my niece, Jude's godparents, many of MA's nieces and nephews, and a few miscellaneous friends. I arrived a little late after my radio show ended, but soon enough to sample the hamburger bar, and the pizzas (we seem to be eating a lot of pie lately, but who doesn't love well-made pizza?). Also here are salads, pasta dishes, and red velvet cheesecake. By coincidence I made just such a cheesecake for Thanksgiving some years ago; the color was offputting for some. And, of course, one-year-old Jackson was the star, charming as he can all in attendance. From then on, if one of our guests wanted to see Jackson about something, he will have to fly to Los Angeles to do it. The room also received approval. As a casual venue for some thirty people eating pizza and burgers with wine, it was perfect.Andy's Bistro. Metairie: 3322 N. Turnbull Dr. 504-455-7363.
[divider type=""]Friday, December 30, 2016. More Breakfast. More Pizza.
Breakfast at the Abita Springs Café, where we have not been in a long time. Mary Ann decides she likes the place now, and Jude's wife Suzanne seems to be charmed with it. Their baby Jackson likes it well enough, and has a breakfast of scrambled eggs, yogurt, and raspberries. He has a lot of fun juggling jelly packets. The boy almost never stops smiling. Back in town for the radio show. Still not much staff show themselves, although the sales guys seem to be occupied with planning something or other. I compose a plan to keep my show under control through the echoing, empty airwaves. It remains a very slow show with the callers, but I think it was listenable. After I finish giving forth with the mausoleum of the air, I strut to the Roosevelt Hotel, where I meet the Marys, Jude and Jackson at Dominica. There we come close to having a dinner about twice as big as we need. I know this to be true, because we've had quite a few dinners at Dominica in the past few months, usually following concerts at the Orpheum. We have two pizzas before us: one very spicy, the other a mild pie with many kinds of cured or smoked pork. That's followed by lasagna made with spinach pasta, rigatoni with a peppery red sauce, roasted half of a chicken, and tagliatelli pasta with black squid ink and crabmeat. The latter has been the best dish at Dominica since the restaurant opened. Somehow, we have only one car for the five people (counting Jackson) present at Dominica. If I had known that, I wouldn't have hoofed the ten blocks from the radio station. On top of that, it's getting windy and cold. The people and automobiles sort themselves out, and I find myself driving home alone. [divider type=""]Saturday, December 31, 2016. The Traditionally Quiet New Year's Eve.
The Marys spend the day in town and don't come home after they drop off Jude and his family at the airport. The three of us, then, have less-than-jolly New Years Eves. I manage to make the television work (I turn it on only very occasionally), and I watch the continuance of Dick Clark's New Year's Rocking Eve. That's pretty good, to have one's name live on after something as ephemeral as a television show. Part of the broadcast originates from New Orleans, but it's hampered by the severe rainstorms the weather guys have been promising for days. I am away from the two women in my life, and they from me. But who cares anymore? [divider type=""]Sunday, January 1, 2017. Not Much To Eat On New Year's Day.
The new year begins on the same lonely note with which the last day of the old one ends. This will not go down as one of my better years. Too many changes for my taste. And a few failures. On the other hand, when I think about it all, it seems more a case of underestimating what could not be called disastrous days. There is one thing that I think should trouble a guy who does what I do for a living. I have a feeling that the thrills of dining and cooking do not bring as much pleasure to people who are about Jude's and Mary Leigh's ages. Since they are the ones who set the vogues and standards, this may take a lot of the fun out of the food world. I've written a few pieces about that, and I'm not the first or the only one. Somehow, there's just not a lot of pleasure in being informed as to what strain of lettuce leaf from which nearby organic farm is being used in making the micro-herb salad with the three grape-size heirloom tomatoes. Food that makes me laugh (not with it but at it) has a way of failing to be delicious. It's raining so hard as the clock passes Midnight Central Standard Time that the usual attack of fireworks from all around the Cool Water Range is barely whimpering. You can't tell whether the explosions are from the Black Cat arsenals or are bolts of lighting. There are many of the latter, some of them so loud that one wonders whether the house has moved off it foundation. Sometime around two in the morning the power goes out as another wave of tornado warnings pass over us. Things are very quiet after that. But somehow the Cool Water Ranch's power returns after just a few seconds. It's the neighbors who have to turn on their generators. It's usually the other way around. I'll take that as a good sign for the coming year. After I sing at St. Jane's, I get in contact with Mary Ann, who is on her way home from the south shore. We attempt to find a place to have a breakfast, brunch, lunch or dinner, and discover that this is one of those days when only the chain restaurants are in operation. I am forced to go to MA's favorite eatery: the consarned Chimes. Sometimes I think she would eat there every day if she could. I have the Pontchartrain eggs from the brunch menu, one of the better parts of the Chimes' usually-mediocre offering. I begin with a cup of their crawfish soup, which is too rich. We eat hearty because there is no place else to go.I might even be forced to cook later. [divider type=""]Monday, January 2, 2017. Again With The Chimes? Again?
The rain overnight creates large pools of water covering about a fifth of the Cool Water Ranch. I haven't been able to take a walk in days, and my body is complaining about that. I don't have many resolutions for the New Year, but one of them will add something the product I publish. I will update a full restaurant review every day. Reasons: some of them are getting out of date, and others are needed for the many new restaurants that opened during the past year. We are about thirty new restaurants past the count I made at this time in 2016. Got to get on the stick, as my old boss at the Time Saver was fond of saying. [caption id="attachment_45214" align="alignnone" width="400"]
Seafood platter at The Chimes. [/caption]
Mary Ann and I meet for lunch at the restaurant what will give me the least possible amount of data for my review-updating project. The Marys both want to have lunch at The Chimes, even though we ate there only yesterday. But there is no fighting them, in large part because a lot of restaurants are closed today. And there is fog on the Causeway, preventing me from making the planned run into town. During lunch, it occurs to me that I have no need to do that, because the radio stations are all on vacation. I was treating the day like just another Monday until Mary Leigh mentioned that she didn't have to work today. I called the station to make sure.
MA splits a half-dozen grilled oysters with me, and then we share a fried seafood platter. It seems to me that the prices here have gone up a bit. $28 for the platter? Hmm. But the place is packed most of the time.
I would very much like to attend our regular Monday night NPAS rehearsal. But the chorus is on hiatus, and we don't begin our study for the next show until next week. Alissa Rowe, our conductor, is asking for quartets and trios to come up with songs about dancing, the theme of the upcoming show. I'm going to try to find some other members to join me on "Dancing In The Dark," in a version with a slow, romantic beat. The hard part will be finding the other three people, who will almost certainly have better skills than I do.
