Saturday, June 15, 2013
Return To Carmelo, Return Of The Fowlers.
Mary Ann surprised me with a breakfast offer. She chose the venues in a way I hope I never have to. She didn't want to go to Mattina Bella, clearly the best place for breakfast on the North Shore. If we went there, she's be compelled to eat. If we went to, say, the Courtyard, she can resist eating, which is what she'd like to do.
So we went to the Courtyard, which I rather like, and ate hearty. Works for me either way.
We did this early enough to give me time to do some clothes shopping. All I really needed was a brown leather belt, to replace the one that the dog Steal stole and partially ate.
I shop for clothes like the typical male. I don't spend enough time or money on style--but looks have never been my strong suit. I buy the same exact stuff I have worn since high school: oxford button-down collar shirts, pleated pants, sport jackets.
I have gone in and out of wearing bowties over the years. I shift back to my collection of over 100 four-in-hand ties when my weight goes up. You can't loosen the collar on a shirt when you're wearing a bowtie. If I'm wearing bowties, it means my weight is dropping. Belk had racks and racks of beautiful, whimsical bowties, and I bought one. I told Mary Leigh that if she wanted to buy a Father's Day gift, more of these bowties would make me happy. ML has a good eye for design.
I had a three-hour radio show this afternoon, after which I took a forty-five minute walk and a nap. Life is good as long as I have a nap. I'm like a child in that regard.
Mary Leigh and The Boy were out for the evening. Mary Ann called our friends the Fowlers, who are moving back to Mandeville after a few years in--strange coincidence--the same part of the world from which The Boy comes. I suggested Ristorante Carmelo, where we have not dined in quite some time.
I was happy to see the place much busier than it once was. Carmelo Chirico was, as always, running around talking up his beautiful whole fish, his house-made sausages, and other such delicacies. He sent out an antipasto of his prosciutto, over a layer of little heirloom tomatoes with pesto spread around the perimeter.
First some bruschetta (I've always found Carmelo's the best), then a pizza Margherita from his stone oven. Funny: the crust was much thicker than the Napolitan style he usually bakes, and underbaked at that. Not bad, though, and the Fowlers seem to like it particularly well.
One of the specials tonight was squash blossoms stuffed with mascarpone cheese, herbs, and crabmeat. That intrigued everybody, and it was as pretty as it was delicious. The blossoms were fried for a few seconds, then sent out with the exact same bottom layer as the prosciutto. Not that we were unhappy to get more of those heirloom tomatoes.
Somewhere in here I ate a near-perfect mushroom risotto, the side dish that comes with osso buco. Of all the eating practices I've discovered in other countries, the Italian habit of having a small dish of pasta or risotto between the antipasto and the main course is my favorite.
The entrees were chicken Marsala , spaghetti with shrimp, and my all-time favorite dish for thirty years in Carmelo's restaurants, veal Sorrentina. "That's the recipe that my chef on the French Quarter made me swear I'd always make right," Carmelo said. I remember that chef. Ciro was his name. Tall guy. On the old side. He was a candidate for Best Italian Chef Of All Time In New Orleans. Passed away about ten years ago.
The dish is simple enough: pan-seared veal, prosciutto atop that, slices of eggplant next, and mozzarella cheese melting over the top. Red sauce with mushrooms, and finito. Great eating.
The Fowlers, who are not yet re-accustomed to eating in New Orleans volume, could not consider dessert. I was full myself. Nobody was thinking entirely about food, good though it was. We know them because our children are about the same ages, and when they all went to the same schools the connections were made. I'm very happy they're back in town.
Carmelo. Mandeville: 1901 US Hwy 190. 985-624-4844.
