Monday, February 22, 2010. Max Zander's Award. Today would be my mother's ninety-eight birthday. She told me--but I didn't listen--that you can't say how wonderful you are, and that praise is worthless unless it comes from someone else. I've got that backwards. I feel that I must tout myself, and I get uncomfortable when others boost me. Indeed, I am proving this as I write these words.
Tonight at Galatoire's, a dinner was held in my honor as the recipient of the first (or second, depending on how you look at it) Max Zander Award, given to a person who advanced the eating and drinking culture in New Orleans, while at the same time helping WYES, our public television station. The first recipient (sort of) was Max Zander himself. He got more people interested in wine than anyone else in New Orleans history. And he was always involved in WYES's wine auctions. After Max died last year, WYES decided to make the award annual. Somehow, the honor devolved on me. I am blushing even now.
It was easy enough to take. About eighty people showed up for the six-course, $150 fundraiser. I was the last to arrive; I neglected to remind the organizers that I don't get off the air until seven, the hour when it started.
After the pass-around appetizers (three remoulades of the usual good local shellfish), a few short speeches were given. Fortunately, most of them--including mine--were about what a great guy Max Zander had been. I met his sons and daughter for the first time in my life. "When we read all the articles written about our father after he died, we learned all kinds of things about him that we didn't know!" they said. Fortunately, all of these were good things. (It would have been tough to find something not to like about Max.) I learned that before he got into wine, his drink of choice was Scotch. I guess every zealot must be converted.
The first course to arrive at the tables was turtle soup. It was better than I remember. I was glad to have all of Mary Ann's. For some reason it's not something I order often at Galatoire's. It really belongs in the top ten, I'd say. The "bistro salad" that came next was just a salad.
Now the fish course, which I thought was pretty good: drumfish encrusted with buttery bread crumbs, with bearnaise underneath. Followed by a unique cut of beef called a "calotte." The word means a hat in the shape of a beanie or skullcap. This is what the steak looks like on the plate. I supposed that these would be the end cuts of whole tenderloins, and it may have been. But in fact another aspect of the thing was more unusual: it was sort of a spiral, rolled up into the yarmulke shape. Tender enough, it needed a sauce. If there's a rule against having the same sauce twice in a dinner, I would make an exception for bearnaise. I asked for a dish of it, and everybody else at the table asked to have it passed their way.
A couple of good wines circulated. The three whites that began the procession were controversial. I rather liked the Joel Gott Chardonnay, but my saying so brought disagreement from some others. Just about everybody liked the Napa Cellars Pinot Noir, although many questioned its being served with the fish. The Pinot Noir-seafood pairing has gone on far longer than it deserves. It was a novelty fifteen years ago, but seems a cliche--and not a very good one--now.
My favorite wine was the Terra d'Oro Sangiovese, but that too was far from a unanimous opinion. I think I like Chianti-style wines more than most people.
Sweet potato cheesecake and a very light, sweet Moscato. By this time, my circulating around the room turned up a certain amount of dissatisfaction with the food, coupled with a widespread happiness about being at Galatoire's under any circumstances. Really, Galatoire's does not do banquets especially well. But few seem to care.
Mary Ann was flattered, too. People wanted to meet her--perhaps more than wanted to meet me. Several who knew her said how great she looked and how much weight she's lost. That's music to her ears. But she left early anyway. She really doesn't like this kind of drawn-out dinner, and is not much enchanted by Galatoire's mystique, either.
Galatoire’s. French Quarter: 209 Bourbon 504-525-2021. Classic Creole.
