Sunday, December 30, 2012.
Table Full Of Coincidences At Domenica.
Mary Ann's niece had surplus prime tickets to the Saints game today, and offered them to us. The Marys, Jude and his GF went to the game. Nobody asked me, but that's the treatment I richly deserve. My lifetime record of Saints-game attendance remains perfect.
I keep getting trapped in places where the game is on television, however. And from what little I saw in those occasions, I think I know why the Saints had such a terrible year. Drew Brees is running out of spit. He licks his fingertips constantly during the game. Perhaps there's something in his saliva that lets him control the ball. (I remember an old baseball movie about a pitcher whose hair tonic made the ball swerve around the wood of the bat. Something like that.) Whatever it is, after all these years of finger-licking, it could be that the reservoir is running dry.
When the game ended with another loss, MA called to say that Jude wanted us all to have dinner at Domenica. What Jude wants, Jude gets. I dumped out of my highly miscellaneous projects and headed for town.
I didn't want to run into the crowd leaving the Superdome. But that's what I should have done. A lot of disgusted fans left early. The route I thought would be good--getting off the I-10 at the cemeteries and heading downtown on Canal Street--was confounded by construction of the new streetcar line. It had Canal completely shut down at Basin Street, and a parking lot of unsuspecting drivers formed. It took an hour for me to travel--in a circuitous route--the eight blocks from Canal and Claiborne to the Roosevelt Hotel.
We had a much bigger table than I expected. Not only were our fivesome there, but four more attached to Harlan Pearce. Harlan is a seafood wholesaler and, until recently, the chairman of the Louisiana Seafood Marketing Board. And a long-time friend. His wife and daughter and the daughter's friend were gathered around a half-dozen pizzas, all of which were passed down to me. They and all the other dishes on the table were stone cold. The diners who got to the food first assured me that it was remarkable when it came out of the oven. That was a long drive for cold pizza.
Into Domenica walked Harry Shearer--writer, broadcaster, voice actor (he does 40 characters on The Simpsons), comedian, and all-around wise guy. Harry spends a lot of time in New Orleans, and has been a big help to our city's recovery. And to me personally, by giving me a blurb for the back cover of my cookbook. He listens to the radio show, too.
Yeah, well, it came out that Jude's girlfriend's father is an old, cherished friend of Harry. Who was astonished that his friend's daughter could possibly be standing before him in New Orleans. Harry, in his turn to introduce somebody, had me shaking hands with Corby Kummer, the long-time food writer for the Atlantic Monthly. I was on a press trip in Italy with Corby in 1988. Another clever guy. A line I remember him saying: "I condemn flavored olive oils to the same hell to which I consign flavored coffee."
And then everybody went home. Jude, the GF, and MA will leave the Cool Water Ranch at 4:30 a.m. to get the first two on the plane back to Los Angeles. I hope that the GF appreciated our new roof while she was here.
Domenica. CBD: 123 Baronne (Roosevelt Hotel). 504-648-6020.
To browse through all of the Dining Diaries since 2008, go here.
