[title type="h5"]Tuesday, February 11, 2014.[/title]
Nobody can accuse Mary Ann and me of not putting enough into birthdays and anniversaries. The twenty-fifth annual celebration of our nuptials today began--appropriately, since the our courtship began with a radio show--on the air. Mary Ann booked as guests three people who played a role in our wedding. All of them are major figures in the local food world, so they fit right in.
Kit Wohl spends most of her time now writing cookbooks. She's up to number eleven, many of them in the Classic Creole series. She has a big one coming out soon that collects recipes from all the chefs who have won the James Beard Best Chef awards over the years.
Before any of that, Kit and husband Billy made themselves permanent parts of our Book Of Life by offering us the use of their wonderful apartment in the Garden District for our reception. It couldn't have been a better venue. It was even close to the church. Kit and I have been colleagues since our earliest days in the press racket, and we're still good friends.
Cedric Martin is the proprietor of Martin Wine Cellar, from whom we bought all the wine for our event: five cases of Codorniu Brut Classico, and five cases each of generic California white and red wines. The latter were unusual in having labels that bore our names and the auspicious date. The whites were either drunk or went bad long ago. The reds, however, have managed to remain not only drinkable but occasionally well-aged and delicious. Last year's anniversary bottle was unbelievably good. Cedric and his people did all that labeling by hand.
On the show today, I waited until the end to ask Cedric Question A: When will the Uptown Martin's--the original location, opened in the 1940s--finally reopen? It was laid low by the Katrina flood, and has not returned. "October." Cedric said. "This year?" I asked. "Yes," he insisted. I told him to show up on the air then to tell us the good news.
The third radio guest today was John Burke, the man who invented Cajun caviar. Made from the roe of the antediluvian fish called the bowfin by ichthyologists and choupique by ordinary people, Cajun caviar was new on the scene at the time Mary Ann and I got married. Those who had tried it were unanimous in their praise. The fish eggs are not only good for something found in the muddy swamps, but an excellent caviar by any standard. John was on the radio show with me (we were still in the Maison Blanche Building) and sold me two kilos of his caviar for $25 each. (An equivalent amount of Russian caviar would have gone for hundred of dollars.) Cajun caviar came in cans similar to those used by Russian caviar makers. We put the tins on the ice with the label clearly showing its origins. Almost immediately, the gourmets in attendance at our reception--and there were quite a few--congratulated me for having so obviously made a success of myself. How else could I have afforded caviar of this caliber?
To quote the late Al Shea, "Tom! This reception of yours is not New Orleans!" He paused, and I waited to hear in which way I had failed to be local enough. "This--this is Hollywood!" Coming from a journalist who had spent a good deal of time going to parties in Hollywood, I took that as the ultimate accolade.
After we left the air, I drove the three blocks to the Windsor Court Hotel, where we spent the first two nights of our married life. I ordinarily would have walked. But the weather--in contrast the beautiful blue skies we had on our wedding day--was cold, windy, and rainy. I checked in while the Marys smuggled in two trays of Parran's finger sandwiches and mini-muffulettas. (Not my idea.) We also brought five bottles of wine for our guests--including the final bottle of our wedding reception wines.
The Windsor Court's suites are big and comfortable, but not enough to invite a large crowd. However, we had booked a suite on the club level, which gave us access to the Club. This was especially important to us. A few years earlier, I had given the Windsor Court the first of the many five-star ratings it would collect over the years. They gave us a little payback by letting us use for our bridal suite an immense complex of rooms on the 22nd floor, with balconies facing both north and south, and a large sky patio facing west. Also in this palatial space was a grand piano and a full (and I do mean full) bar. That very layout was converted a few years ago into the hotel's Club Room. So we literally were back where it all started.
[caption id="attachment_41277" align="alignleft" width="320"]
Anniversary cake with calla lilies.[/caption]Our short list of guests indulged in a few glasses of wine and some cheese and charcuterie from the Club Room's small but nice buffet. Present were Oliver Kluna and his wife Caroline--my best man, and with his wife our son Jude's godparents. Dr. Bob DeBellevue was also on my side during the ceremonies. As was MA's big brother Lee Connell and little brother Tim Connell. On the other hand, none Mary Ann's bridesmaids were here. Two of the three live way out of town, and the other was under the weather. My little sister Lynn rounded out the guest list.
And Mary Leigh was there, of course. Our darling daughter made another of the magnificent, architectural cakes she has been selling around town lately. A nice touch: she made calla lilies out of marzipan, to echo the flowers my bride carried down the aisle.
A lovely gathering. The only blue note was that the final bottle of wedding wine had clearly gone over the hill, as it should have done more than a decade ago. It was barely drinkable, but we all gave a toast and took a sip of it, as we said goodbye to a beautiful era.
Written by Tom Fitzmorris February 20, 2014 13:01 in
