Saturday, February 26, 2011.
Picture. Wandering In Farmland. Vrazel's, Gulfport.
The Northshore Report newspaper is running a story about me. The interview was done months ago, but for reasons that seem obvious to me (stories by reporters about other reporters strike me as too self-reflexive to be anything but dull) they've put off running it. A couple of weeks ago the editor told me they wanted to take a picture of me for the front cover. I begged them not to. My face is too widely recognized as it is. I don't pretend to have much anonymity when I dine out after thirty-eight years of reviewing restaurants, but I don't want to exacerbate that problem.
I relented a little, and allowed a small photo inside the article, preferably on that drew the eye to the beauty of Mary Ann. The deed was done after we finished another top-notch breakfast at Mattina Bella. Omelette with avocado, tomatoes, green onions, and white cheese. Excellent. And they had chicory coffee again, although they still haven't decided whether to maintain it permanently.
Mary Ann's mantra these days is how bored she is with living on the North Shore, or anywhere around New Orleans. She wants to do more traveling, even if it's on short trips. The summer before Katrina--when both kids were still in the house--we began taking day trips into the countryside, to places like Jackson and Natchez and Convent. We were just starting to have fun with that when the storm changed all our lives.
Mary Ann is interested in resuming such trips, even though they will be just for the two of us. Her idea today is to have dinner at Vrazel's in Gulfport, and to get there by some indirect way, with stops in little towns like the ones we found in central Texas a couple of weeks ago.
I loved the idea. When I was single, I occasionally went on aimless wanderings, not knowing where the roads I followed wound up, and not caring if they dead-ended. We climbed down into Mary Leigh's car and headed northeast up LA 21. We passed the infamous House of Seafood Buffet in Bush (full parking lot), rode along the west bank of the Pearl River (prettier than I remembered) to Bogalusa, then crossed the river into Mississippi.
When we got to Poplarville, Mary Ann said this wasn't as charming as what she had in mind. When I turned off onto a tertiary, un-numbered highway, she began to be concerned that all there was out here were vast fields of cows and farmhouses. What did she expect?
We turned onto one unmarked road after another. Each time we did, she became more concerned that we were lost, and that we'd run out of gas before we found civilization. Her reaction to this was to drive faster, which elevated the tension. I knew exactly where I was and where the roads were going, but she doesn't trust me. Finally, I gave up my route and directed us to US 49, a nice, wide four-lane that she would feel better about.
That highway took us all the way to Gulfport, where we were a half-hour early for our dinner reservation. Bill Vrazel, chef and owner, was standing in the door. I haven't been in his restaurant since before the storm.
Bill showed us a collection of photographs that told the Katrina/Vrazel's story. The entire front of the structure had been ripped away by the 30-foot storm surge. A freight container that broke loose from the docks across the highway rode the waves about half a mile to crash into the building. "We fixed it all, but it cost three times what I paid for the restaurant in 1986," Bill said. "I don't ever want to go through that again."
For years, I reported to anyone who asked that Vrazel's was the best restaurant on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. The coming of the big casinos brought competition, but Vrazel's continues to be at the top of my list. For one thing, it's more consistent than the casino places. That includes those with serious moxie. Example: Emeril's Fish House, next door at the Island View, was open for a couple of years and shut down. (It's a steakhouse now.)
Vrazel's has a history. Before Vrazel took over, this was Angelo's, a restaurant more famous for the oak tree that grew through the ceiling of the dining room than it was for its food. (The tree is still there, ailing a bit from the effects of the storm, in front of the restaurant now.) The part of the dining room that faces the Gulf of Mexico has a zigzagging wall of windows. This puts most tables in their own corners--a brilliant design.
Mary Ann was less enthusiastic about the environment. She thought it looked like a restaurant from the 1970s. I can see what she means--although I'd call it the 1980s. The menu is also a throwback to that era. However, that was such a great time for restaurants in our part of the world that I like running into the few remaining restaurants still cooking in that big style.
For example: baked oysters three ways. Rockefeller and Bienville, of course. The third one was oysters Remick, with a sauce better known for its use with crabmeat, but very good here. I wondered why they serve these in scallop shells rather than oyster shells.
Mary Ann's appetizer came from the same era: three big stuffed shrimp with hollandaise. I love that combination of flavors, but it's nearly extinct on New Orleans menus.
The waiter and I had an extended conversation about the several steaks available. I was in that mood. One was a porterhouse, clearly too big for one person (Mary Ann said she wouldn't touch such a thing)--but I considered it anyway. The sirloin strip was billed as prime, however. And then I saw a specialty steak dish, in which the same strip was stuffed with wild rice. That sounded terrific, and it was. The big, familiar flavor of Louis Martini Cabernet completed the joy.
Mary Ann was already full, and happy that a slab of grilled salmon with some grilled shrimp was all she'd have to deal with in the main course. That state was upset when a side dish of eggplant came out as lagniappe. Well, it looked like a side, anyway. In fact, it was the restaurant's most popular entree, eggplant LaRosa (below), a casserole baked with shrimp, crabmeat, and parmesan. I can see why it's a big hit. This stuff was irresistible, rivaling the steak for my attention. MA doesn't like eggplant a lot, but she loved this.
I don't know how I got a bread pudding down.
We returned by way of US 90 along the beach. The desolation and long stretches of darkness is still a mind-bender.
Vrazel's. Mississippi Gulf Coast: 3206 West Beach Blvd (US 90). 228-863-2229.
