Saturday, January 14, 2012.
Two Biscuits. Saints @ Chimes. Heart Attack And Stroke.
I ate two biscuits for breakfast this morning. I shouldn't have. I was still stuffed at lunchtime, when the Marys and I went to The Chimes to watch the Saints in their second playoff game, versus some West Coast team.
What's the soup du jour? "They just changed it," said the curly-haired waitress, who went off to check the details. "Crabmeat and asparagus," she came back to say. Good? "Really good." Cream soup? "Very creamy." Bring it on.
What she brought on, however, was a bean soup with pieces of andouille and an assortment of vegetables. I tried a few spoonfuls and decided I liked it, but I had to ask how it was that the soup du jour changed twice in the midst of a single order. "I'll ask," she said. Take your time--I'll stay with this soup. "It's speckled lima beans in there," she finally reported back. "I don't know what the story is otherwise." She was far too busy for this nonsense, but her cooperation upped the tip.
When I arrived, the Saints were already behind. Nothing much seemed to be happening in the game, really. I ordered a dozen grilled oysters. I had thought of making my own sauce for these at home, and about standing over the oyster grill to make sure they didn't overcook them. (A common problem with grilled oysters, even at Drago's, which invented this masterpiece.)
I didn't do either of those things. Nevertheless, the oysters were exactly what I had in mind. Cooked much less than normal, the biggest ones were lukewarm in the middle. The sauce wasn't laden with cheese, and looked like a brown meuniere sauce. I loved all of this. I'll bet others who got them this way didn't, though. The pendulum is swinging toward overcooked food again.
An example of this showed up in my utterly unnecessary second entree: six big shrimp stuffed with cheese and peppers, wrapped with bacon, and fried. This is a good dish, but it stayed in the fryer too long and got a little tough. But I could only eat a couple of them anyway. Eyes bigger than my stomach, as my mother used to say.
The Chimes was a packed house, what with its Baton Rouge sports connections, many screens, and easy-going management that allows people to just sit there for three hours, whether they're still eating and drinking or not.
I stayed with the Marys and their big salads through halftime and into the third quarter. The Saints seemed to be coming on. I told the Marys that our guys looked headed for a win, so they could watch it for me and tell me the details later. I went home and get back to work. (I'm rebuilding a wing of the website, and the project is making me learn new skills.)
When the girls came home, they looked as if their souls had been removed. "I wonder whether there's an increase in the number of people who show up at the hospital with heart attacks and strokes when there's a big football game on," Mary Ann said. Wha' hoppen? "The last few minutes were insane," she said. "If the game had gone into overtime, I would have had to leave. I really don't think I could have stood the stress."
I tried to console her in her loss. "Well, at least it's all over now, and you won't have to put up with it until next season." This didn't make her any happier, for some reason.
The Chimes. Covington: 19130 W Front St. 985-892-5396.
It's over three years since a day was missed in the Dining Diary. To browse through all of the entries since 2008, go here.
