Sunday, December 2, 2012.
Up The River. Confirmation. Vincent's.
The problem with Manresa is that it gets you in the habit of eating three meals a day. Although these are modest (unless you ask for extra food, which you are all but invited to do), they are still sit-down meals of three courses--two at breakfast (cereal and fruit, followed by scrambled eggs, grits, Canadian bacon, and coffee with a real kick). I don't eat like this at home, but it will be hard to resist doing so for the next few days.
And then the retreat was over. We were eating our baked chicken with dirty rice and peas, and congratulating one another for making it through another one. It's the first time we were allowed to speak since dinner Thursday night. I have no problem being quiet, but apparently some of the newcomers did.
I was still single for my first half-dozen retreats. Nobody waited for me at home then. So instead of going there, I continued up River Road to Baton Rouge. That's a longer drive than it sounds, because the river takes three extreme horseshoe bends, which the levee and the road next to it follow.
I gave up that practice about fifteen years ago. But this year I had time to kill. I thought taking the old ride would make some memories well up, but it was merely enjoyable.
The reason for the open hours was that Mary Leigh would be confirmed this evening. Completely on her own volition, she has been taking the classes required of a candidate for the Catholic sacrament of adulthood. Usually all this gets done automatically if you're in a Catholic school, but Mary Leigh moved from Sacred Heart to the secular Louis S. McGehee School before the confirmation stuff had played out.
I was flattered to be her sponsor. The Mass and the confirmation ritual were at the magnificent Holy Name Church, next to Tulane. Mary Leigh chose as her confirmation name Martha, which the bishop who anointed her thought was a good choice. Personal friend of Jesus, Martha was.
The organist, who looked very young (he is twenty-six) was masterful in his playing. We encountered a number of friends we hadn't seen in awhile. All of them remarked on my weight loss. We ate cookies and drank green punch.
Mary Leigh's boyfriend Dave was there, of course. So we all went to dinner. Vincent's was the best restaurant nearby, and there was a table available. Appetizers of "Rose of Sicily" (panneed artichokes with prosciutto, a great and original dish), oysters Rockefeller (they ought to add "sort of" to that name, but they were very good) and Italian salads.
The young ones split an order of chicken Parmigiana. Vincent Catalanotto Jr., who was managing the restaurant tonight, strongly urged me to try a new veal dish made with house-made tagliatelle pasta, strips of veal, capers, and a brown sauce with mushrooms. I thought this was excellent, largely because of the always good flavor release that comes in dishes made with very thin pasta.
This felt like too much food. A good thing. It said that Manresa had failed to expand my appetite beyond normal.
Vincent's. Riverbend: 7839 St Charles Ave. 504-866-9313.
To browse through all of the Dining Diaries since 2008, go here.
