Saturday, April 16, 2011.
Mattina Bella.
I've run out of the good bottled orange juice they serve at Mattina Bella. Proprietor Vincent Riccobono was nice enough to vend a gallon of it. My mentioning this in a previous journal entry triggered a few messages from readers who wanted to know where they could buy it. The answer, I'm afraid, is nowhere. It's an institutional product that Vincent has one of his distributors bring in especially for him.
Mary Ann continues her refusal to ream oranges for my morning libations. But she's not so mean as to deny me juice at all. She was forced by her conscience (and my whining) to take me to breakfast at Mattina Bella, so we could finagle another gallon of Vincent's juice. Plus another glassful with my breakfast.
We arrived at the peak of business for the morning, and had to wait out on the sidewalk for a table. Mary Ann was thinking of getting an outdoor table, just to make it easier for me. But it was chilly and windy out there, and she changed her mind. Vincent opened the handicapped-access door for me. Another mildly embarrassing first.
Eggs Sardou for me, and the country boy omelette (below; loaded with all the meats in the house) for Mary Ann. I love the very lemony hollandaise they make here. And I always eat too many of the mini-brabant potatoes they fry to order as a side dish.
Vincent says he will open tonight for dinner, a rare occasion. Tonight is one of Covington's frequent street art festivals, with enough people to keep Mattina Bella busy. People who come to the restaurant tonight will be able to order crab cakes. Mary Ann noticed a must-fix typo in the name of that dish on the dinner menu. Making the correction will probably sell many more crab cakes.
Today's radio show on WWL was the first full three-hour gig there in months. During football and basketball season, weeks go by without my being on at all. Maybe that explains the rust in my mental gears. I'm always giving the wrong station and phone number, so accustomed am I to the ones I give every day during the week. It's amazing how much of the brain is on auto-pilot, and how insistent that pilot is in taking over conscious thought.
Mary Ann crossed the lake to have boiled crawfish at Tulane. She wanted to hook up with Mary Leigh while there, but our daughter was in hiding. I tried to comfort MA's disappointment by asking how often her own parents visited her at LSU. The answer, of course, was never, as it would be for mine and for most parents of college students. But she insists that lots of kids hang with their parents, and that I'm out of touch with our kids' worlds.
Mattina Bella. Covington: 421 E Gibson. 985-892-0708.
