Sunday, March 3, 2013.
A Morning At Houmas House. Paddling Away To Natchez.
One of the unique advantages that riverboats have over other waterborne passenger vessels is that they can pull up to any spot on the riverbank, tie up to a tree or two, lower the gangplank, and let the passengers go ashore. Which is exactly what we did when the Queen of the Mississippi arrived abreast of Houmas House Plantation.
During the ten years since Kevin Kelly bought the plantation and began a full-bore restoration and expansion, Houmas House went from a nice but worn relic to a revived, living thing. It is rivaled only by Oak Alley among the many plantations on the lower river.
Kevin has created a good deal of controversy with his additions and renovations. The most strident critics who say that time must be arrested in architectural preservation. Kevin's position--which I find totally valid--is that if the men who built this plantation had lived on in the prosperity that built the place, over the years they would have developed it to more or less the same degree that Kevin has.
There is no question that the place is an eye-popper, replete both with history and beauty. The gardens are lusher with every visit. The new guest houses are far enough away from the main house that they don't compete with it, but are close enough that people who spend the night when they open in the near future would enjoy the full grandeur of the place.
My proclivities being what they are, the parts of Houmas House that interest me most are its food and drink. Latil's Landing is the premiere eatery, ensconced in the oldest part of the main house. That part went up around 1780, and still has many of the fixtures of that age. A cooking hearth on the ground floor, for example.
We are among Kevin Kelly's many friends. He knew we were coming, and he met us on the top of the levee, driving a golf cart so we could get out of the lightly frosted morning air. (It was the coldest and the only uncomfortable weather of the whole trip.) He took us on a private tour of some of his new projects.
The most impressive of these was attached to the trademark, silo-like garconniere. In the old days, this is where the adolescent men of the family came to live, to get them away from the young ladies in the main house. In Kevin's hegemony, this is been the Turtle Bar, where visitors repaired for cocktails. A new structure attached to it gives a number of tables where one may linger over those drinks. It continues on to a banquet room, and then a bigger one. All this is almost but not quite finished. The antique furnishings and fixtures are in place, however.
"Where do you get all these perfect antiques?" Mary Ann asked.
"I work the auctions," Kevin said. "I buy pieces I like, although sometimes I don't know exactly where they're going to wind up."
"What do you do with it all in the meantime?"
"I'm in the warehouse business," he reminded us of his family's enterprise.
The passengers from the boat began to arrive for their pre-arranged tours. We've been through it a couple of times in the past, but we did it again because the two main tour guides--Linda and Judy--are so well-versed and so entertaining that they're really more like actors on stage than tour guides. Nothing dry about their presentations, which provide not just anecdotes but brilliant comedy. Their styles are as different as their appearance. Linda plays a Southern Belle, while Judy is a Big Mama.
After the tour, Kevin rejoined us for Sunday brunch in a new dining room designed for this purpose. Chef Jeremy Langlois--a talented a young guy who worked for John Folse before he came here eight years ago--whipped out some beignets and biscuits in the shape of dragonflies (a motif Kevin likes). Then scrambled eggs with Louisiana caviar in martini glasses. The entree in this not-so-light brunch was Jeremy's signature dish. Lamb loin with a coffee crust, demi-glace, and cheese grits. Fantastic dish--good enough that Mary Ann even ate it, and she doesn't like lamb, rare red meats, or coffee. But she would not besmirch the hospitality of Kevin, whose friendship she enjoys.
Kevin has many more irons in the fire. He let out that he is thinking about a riverboat museum. The paddlewheeelers--which looked headed toward extinction in the aftermath of Katrina--seem to be making a comeback. The boatload of people traveling with me certainly seem to suggest that.
The Queen of the Mississippi cut loose from the riverbank at noon, beginning twenty-three hours of non-stop plying up the Mighty Mississippi to Natchez. Based on my two past riverboat voyages, this seemed unlikely to me. But I think this boat has a good deal more propulsion than just the red paddlewheel in the rear. I will have to ask about this.
There was no shortage of activities on board. My services were called for and delivered. In mid-afternoon, I gave a talk about the recent history of the New Orleans eating scene. The three stories on the theme of soup du jour got the usual big laughs, and continued to amaze me that after thirty years of telling them nobody here had heard them before.
No doubt the attendance at my talk was abetted by the event that followed me in the same room. Five-thirty is cocktail time on the Queen of the Mississippi. The only bar on the ship dispenses imbibations for free during this pre-dinner party, along with excellent appetizers. I can't say that the bartenders had either great skill or a broad inventory of tipples to work with it, but as happy hours go this one was full of smiling people every night.
The goodness of the opening night dinner was no fluke. Tonight's fare included a roasted beet salad with pecans, Roquefort cheese, mache lettuce, and a sherry vinaigrette. Pleased me well enough. The entree was a fine grilled pork chop with corn maque choux (showing that the kitchen is taking the regional cuisine seriously). Pan-seared snapper with a warm tomato salad and arugula and a roasted chicken breast with jambalaya were the other choices. Lemon meringue pie for dessert for those who didn't go for the chess pie.
After dinner, the Paddlewheel Lounge cranked up with a very traditional jazz trio (sax/clarinet, standing bass, and guitar). I didn't know the musicians, but both their credentials (the bass player had a particularly impressive curriculum vitae) and their musicianship were beyond reproach. That was not true of the leader's patter. His anecdotes were boring and his jokes badly told. It would have been a flawless act if he'd just announced the songs and got on with them.
There was no bar service during the music, or anywhere else on the boat after dinner. It didn't appear that anyone missed it.
I am still on the riverboat described above, without the cable to transfer photos to my computer. I will add them to the archived versions of these Dining Diary entries this weekend. Sorry!
To browse through all of the Dining Diaries since 2008, go here.
