With grand intentions to experience several Réveillons over the holiday season, I only made it to two, choosing some other holiday options over the newly-refamous traditional Christmas dinner. There were lots of fun special dining opportunities, and I focused on Friday lunches and a pop-up.

Of the many Réveillons out there I wound up going to Tujague’s because the same new friends that offered a fun and valuable Mandina's experience in October wanted to try Tujague’s, having never been to the new one. He was a fan of the old Tujague's and she had never been to that one either, so they were both interested in a place that is very familiar to me. But I’m glad we went, because there was indeed something new to discover there, and it was not a good thing.

Tujague’s dates back to 1856, and before COVID upended service in particular, the waiters were from the career class, older people who have waited tables for the same customers, and they knew each other. On this visit to Tujague’s the entire service staff was different. All the waiters I recognized were gone, replaced by young men from Southeast Asia who were very attentive, but communication was a problem. They spoke with such heavy accents we never did get the information we needed, and they had the same trouble understanding what we were saying to them. We ordered some menu items without knowing exactly what they were. Being able to communicate in dining service is rather fundamental. That was the first, and I hope the only such experience. Tourists, of which they have many, will not have a means of comparison as I do, but this is not a good trend.

The food was also lackluster. There were three of us, and we tried to get something different. For a first course I got the crabmeat and goat cheese crepes, and only because the choice I wanted was taken. One of us got the gumbo and the most desired item was the artichoke dip with crostini.

The duck gumbo was fine but nothing more, and the person who ordered it was satisfied. 

I was happy to be surprised by my crepes. Normally I don’t order crepes, but since this had crabmeat what could be wrong? Answer: nothing. These were much better than I imagined. Even the balsamic drizzle which I usually find trite and annoying, was very good here.

The artichoke dip was the star of this table. The crostini were plentiful and good crostini, and the dip itself was equally generous. It was creamy and cheesy and there was enough artichoke to remind you that you were eating more than cream and cheese. (Not that that is ever a problem.)

The next course made the three of us scratch our heads. It was a single item: salad. No choice, and I can see why. No one would choose this. In fact, none of us felt it was worthy of more than a bite or two. The second bite was just to affirm the first. It appeared to be chopped kale with a bit of goat cheese.

Here is where I wonder why a restaurant is doing this. If the idea of a special menu is to introduce yourself to a potential new customer, why send bad will their way? I would have asked for a different salad but we couldn’t communicate with the waiters. Yes, it was indeed comical.

For entrees two of us got the fish, which was Drum, and the third got the lamb shank. I was glad that two of us got the Drum, because I had a taste in mine I needed to verify with someone. The fish had a classic gloppy Meuniere sauce on it. The dish was otherwise fine but again nothing mor. What caught my attention here was the side dish. Roasted fingerling potatoes, which I always find a perfectly good side on a plate. For some reason, though, these fingerling potatoes were sweet, like something had been spilled on it. I swapped potatoes with the other person who had the same dish, and all concurred that hers were not sweet. Again, something to take up with a waiter, if only I could.

The lamb shank had such potential. It was enormous, and richly colored as such a thing should be. Its owner was not so enthusiastic about it. The piece I stole was good, I thought, but a bit dry. That was my first thought about this plate on sight. Where is the rich sauce shanks are usually immersed in? There was some sauce under this, but definitely not enough for the size of the haunch. And One of us thought there was too much cinnamon in the sauce.

For Tom, there was never too much cinnamon on anything. I have come to respect the spice, and even appreciate it in spots, but I would never order a dish because it had a cinnamon component. Still, when I encounter it, the presence of cinnamon is not a deal breaker. It wouldn’t have been here had this been my dish, and with lamb, I expect it.

There was no choice for dessert in this meal either, and that meant Creme Brulee. My companions were thrilled with this choice, and were happy to take mine home. We got one for the table and two packed up, and somehow we struggled through the communication barrier to make that happen.

I thnk my favorite part of the meal was the crostini.

This meal took place the night before Christmas Eve, so maybe the staffing change is related to the vagaries of labor these post-COVID days. I hope so, for the sake of the restaurant. But this meal was sub-par on all levels but the appearance of the restaurant, which always impresses me. I just love what they did to the place.

The last entry in this holiday wrap involves another well established restaurant which is no longer with us.. The Palace Cafe popped up at The Commissary, with a small printed menu for the counter where you order. There were just a few items on it, but a fan favorite or two were there, along with a few items that puzzled me.

A Cuban sandwich is perfect as is, and doesn’ need to have a local spin on it, in my view. We got one anyway, but neither of us ate it, saving ourselves for the decadent signature crabmeat cheesecake.

When it arrived at the table, the reaction from both of us was not surprise, but heartbreak. More isn’t always better, sometimes it’s just more. The last time I had this legendary dish at the restaurant was about a year ago. They had amped it up a bit since the time before, by adding a few crab claws. This is never a bad thing, in my view. It was sitting in a puddle of brown butter which dripped from the top. Magnificence.

This version of the crabmeat cheesecake illustrated my Number One dining experience irritant: improving upon perfection. If something is perfect it cannot be improved. The Palace Cafe Crabmeat Cheesecake is a great example. This version was so covered in mushrooms I waited for it to cave in. And what was a delicious brown butter sauce was now a gloppy classic Meuniere.

We were both ecstatic that we planned to share this one. Eating a whole one of these would have been traumatic. We sat out on the porch at The Comissary, which had been decked out for the holidays. There was a table where someone was serving anoother signature from the Palace Cafe, the White Chocolate Bread Pudding. Neither of us are into white chocolate, or bread pudding, so we cut our losses at the cheesecake.

The Commissary is delightful all by itself, but it is part of a little shopping area which includes an event planner. They were open and serving cookies and champagne, making this stop all the more festive. It was fun to sip the champagne and browse very cool holiday items.

It was only recently that we returned to visiting The Palace Cafe, and have enjoyed the visits. Dickie Brennan has a lot of fun thinking up promotions that draw people into the restaurant. Without these lures, I don’t know if I would have gone to the restaurant just for the cheesecake.

The version I had at the pop-up makes that decision even easier.