Sunday, January 4, 2009.
Goodbye To Breakfast. Book Finished. Steak And Broccoli Again.
Last Saturday, I reported here my suspicion that the fifteen-year-long series of Saturday breakfasts with the kids has run out of gas. When I couldn't get either of them interested in it yesterday (the usual impediment: both slept too late), I decided to have an official Final Saturday Breakfast Routine With Dad today. I let them sleep until ten, then told them they had to get up so we could return, for the final time, to our main breakfast place: the Marriott Courtyard Hotel in Covington.
As usual, we left Mary Ann at home. Jude and I split a ham and cheese omelette. (They make them better here than in nine out of ten breakfast places I know). Mary Leigh ate a pile of bacon, strawberries, and hash browns. I used to begin every breakfast here with a bowl of cereal with sliced bananas, a habit I picked up at Manresa. That menu item made its return today for old times' sake. After the Special K, the omelette and an English muffin. Juice. Coffee.
All the wistful feelings and reminiscences had to come from me. It was just another day for these young adults who have such long lives ahead of them. I'm sure we'll have breakfast again, the two or three of us. But it will never again be the default item on our Saturday morning schedule, as it was for such a long, wonderful string of years, starting with when they were very little. (Mary Leigh, in fact, was too little to come along for the first couple of years). Now it becomes nostalgia. Very, very good nostalgia. I'd strongly recommend the practice to every dad. I paid the check and we were gone.
At home, back to the keyboard. I wrote the book's epilog, telling what happened to my family and career during the past year or so, and about current trends in the New Orleans restaurant business. That was much easier than I thought. The rest of the day, deep into the night, was spent creating a bunch of sidebars for the chapters: recipes, restaurant ratings over the years, and other snapshots. I made a quick pass though the whole thing, packaged it all up, and around ten-thirty sent it off to the editor and the publisher. Finished. Right on time. Except, of course, for the inevitable rewriting of this and that. They have assigned Amy Wilensky, who has written a few books of her own, as my editor. So far, her reading of the book has returned no serious problems.
I felt great about what I have done. I wonder if readers will find it of interest.
In early evening, I took a break in the work to prepare (with much help from Mary Ann) a near-duplicate of the dinner we had on Christmas Day. We had the other half of the Perini Ranch tenderloin at our disposal, and we disposed of it deliciously. I made two sauces: a wine-based mushroom sauce, and bearnaise. Steamed broccoli and fresh-cut French fries, and there we were. Delicious all over again, but much less formal. Today, we sat at the kitchen counter, which used to fit all four of us comfortably, but does so no longer. I make it work by sitting at the end, where there is no legroom. I also get the French fry basket last, after the two kids have scooped up most of them. My reward is the contentedness of the others.
Courtyard Cafe. Covington: 101 Northpark Blvd. 504-871-0244. Breakfast.
