Monday, March 22. Ferns. Mi Casa. I love this time of year. The natural world has something new to show me every day. Today I took a walk through the woods and saw a few first signs of spring. The ferns that grow in a fairly large open patch deep among the trees have begun to emerge. They disappeared in October, leaving no evidence that they ever were there. Within a few weeks, they'll completely cover the ground again.
The strangest thing about this spring is the continuing flyovers by large groups of loudly-honking geese. I've never heard so many of them in the twenty years we've lived here. As I'm writing these words, another flock is passing by.
Mary Ann and I went to dinner at Mi Casa, a well-hidden restaurant on Causeway Boulevard south of Covington. We've been there a few times before and like it reasonably well, even though the menu stays slavishly to the basics. The staff is very pleasant, the prices are low, and hardly anyone else is ever there. With good reason. The only way you'd see it is by taking the side entrance into Lowe's, or by going to the health club next door. Health club customers don't, I imagine, go to Mexican restaurants often.
We started with a boat of chorizo sausage--the loose kind, not in a casing--flooded with queso. Then we split an order of chicken fajitas (below), which were workmanlike in execution, using good ingredients. I'm in a cheesy mood (that's why I suggested we go here in the first place), and I felt the need to have a cheese enchilada on the side. I liked the chili sauce, but continue to insist that the best sauce with this would be mole poblano.
Mary Ann misses Jude already. But she will soon fix that. She informed me that she would be flying to Los Angeles later this week to spend an indefinite amount of time with Jude. She believes that he is lonely. Yes, I say, and there's nothing a twenty-year-old man needs more when he's lonely than to have his mother camp out in his apartment for an extended period of time.
Mi Casa. Covington: 109 Crestwood Blvd 985-892-8969. Mexican.
Tuesday, March 23. Cypress. A Big Change In Plans. A pretty, sunny day. Nice enough for me to resume my long walks around the Cool Water ranch, checking on the progress of spring. The buds on the deciduous trees are straining to pop open soon, although none of them have. The cypress trees look especially eager to get things started. But the main event at the moment is the annual release of pine pollen. En route into town, enough of the stuff was floating around to make the air look foggy, but with a shade of pale green. It's covering my car and the patio with that color, too.
A family crisis arose, requiring a dinner tonight. The Marys accepted my suggestion that we go to Cypress, Stephen Huth's Creole bistro in Metairie. The restaurant wasn't busy, which was a good thing, because we needed to become emotional. Mary Leigh has decided that moving to Los Angeles next year to attend the Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising was not, after all, what she wanted to do. She was excited about fashion design a couple of years ago, after taking a month-long course in it in New York. But now she feels that fashion is not really what appeals to her, and wants to begin a new search for an arts college where she can pursue a broader range of design. Admitting this to herself and making the decision was a catharsis for her.
My thinking about this is that she should do whatever she wants to do. And that when I was her age I hadn't the foggiest idea of where my life would lead, what my talents were, or even whether I had any talents. At least she's determined to be an artist. (And has the gifts to do so.)
Mary Ann agrees with all that. On the other hand, this derails her own plans. She liked the idea of Mary Leigh and Jude's living together in L.A. Jude's apartment is around the corner from ML's would-be school. I believe she was also seeing this as a pretext for her own move to Los Angeles--which she loves. I don't think it's schadenfreude on my part to be happy this won't go that way.
With this high emotion at the table, we paid less attention than usual to the food. My starter was a variation on Italian oysters, using shrimp and crawfish instead of oysters. I seem to have an insatiable appetite for dishes like this lately. Mary Leigh kicked off with a blue cheese salad, confirming her theory that the fancier and more expensive the restaurant, the worse the blue cheese salad.
They had redfish with crabmeat on the menu with a side of asparagus, and I ordered it. Good enough, not exciting. The crabmeat sauce needs some work. Mary Ann, my Crabcake Editor, went after the pair of crabcakes with two sauces (below), which she found almost indistinguishable in flavor, and too buttery.
Mary Leigh, my Filet Mignon Editor, ate one of those and pronounced it terrific, even though she ate only half. I am living with two women who seem to be less interested in eating every day. Maybe Los Angeles is the right place for them, after all.
As we finished dinner, we weighed the possibilities. Mary Leigh is suddenly interested in the Savannah College of Art and Design. She visited the campus last year and was immediately turned off, because the city reminded her too much of New Orleans. Every time I hear something like that, I feel my guts wrench.
Cypress. Metairie: 4426 Transcontinental 504-885-6885. Contemporary Creole.
