Superbowling

The Superbowl hasn’t been held in New Orleans for 12 years, and that fact alone made it more appealing than it otherwise would be to me> It has been many years since I followed football, and Tom was always the anti-sports guy. Neither of us watch the game. But a big national event is a big national event, and we wanted to see what was happening. 

On Saturday we got into the car to ride. It was a gorgeous weekend for our city to host anything. People were out everywhere, and traffic was abysmal, though not nearly as bad as I expected. We had to work up the courage to brave the French Quarter, so we headed first to the Warehouse District to pick up a pizza. I was expecting a pedestrian mall in the French Quarter, so I didn’t even try to reserve anything for lunch or dinner, because we have to pull up at a place without much walking.

I have recently heard about Forbidden Pizza on Baronne, so we ordered a pepperoni pizza online. The menu is limited, and the website pics of the Brooklyn-style pizza got me excited. We pulled up at a place that in no way resembled the pizza joints of New York City. This place was glamorous. And bigger than the hole-in-the-wall I assumed it was. When we pulled up I noticed its neighbor across the street was Batter, a cute bakery from Hammond. We would have dessert there. In reality, we would have both pizza and dessert in the car.

I ran in to get the $32 pizza that was 20”. I almost couldn’t get the box through the door. It was a beautiful pizza with the “right look,” the first thing I inspect in my eternal quest for great New York-style pizza outside New York. I was tickled with the generosity they displayed with pepperoni. It was just the right kind: little but thick enough to cup when heated to hold a little puddle of grease. No, I don’t eat the grease but its presence means the pepperoni is of good quality. A little dab to mop up the grease and proceed to Pizza Nirvana.

While Forbidden Pizza is not technically Pizza Nirvana, we are definitely getting closer. This is a very good pizza. Stiff crust, shredded mozzarella, and plenty of the good kind of pepperoni. The crust tastes good and gives the teeth a workout. The sauce is fresh tasting with a little bit of a kick. There is the proper amount of melted mozzarella. All of this adds up to a great slice. We didn’t just get a slice, opting for an entire pizza, which I must say is getting up there in price. This was a large pizza, but still I have to wrap my head around any pizza in that range.

After a deliciously greasy slice of pizza, I dropped in on Batter for dessert. This is a lovely little bakery that is the second location of the place in Hammond that has created a buzz last year. What’s in the case seems ordinary to me, but then I am spoiled for all baked goods other than my daughter’s. There were some pretty little cake pop bites and a lot of cupcakes, 

but I settled on a king cake cookie, which only looked like a king cake. It was a brown sugar cookie with a chocolate filing and the requisite colored sugar coating. This was interesting but hyper-sugary. 

We drove on, this time heading for the French Quarter. I was expecting to just circle the perimeter, but it was completely open. We just drove and drove. I wanted to see the lights on the cathedral, so we drove around for hours. There was a fun little town across from Crescent City Brewhouse in the parking lot where you could go from booth to booth and get chips and drinks. Cheetos and Doritos, Lay’s and Tostitos, and Pepsi, and everything that keeps America fat. I wish I could have stopped thinking about that long enough to enjoy the freebies. There were tables to enjoy the snacks, and this was busy but not oppressively crowded. There was a band at the end of the area making it festive.

The lights finally came on at 6:30, and it certainly wasn’t worth staying around for. Someone told me t was controversial, and I can see that. I was expecting pretty wedding cake colors and pale lights and there was a loud explosion of colors, motion and sound. Not on the cathedral, please. We left.

We returned on Sunday and I was shocked at how light the traffic was everywhere. We arrived at Restaurant August for their Game Day Brunch and every inch of curb was taken, mostly by cops and National Guard. Sirens were everywhere as motorcycle escorts relished their task. I had no idea where we would park for Tom to walk. I settled on an illegal spot where I could watch the car. A driver of a black Suburban waiting for his passengers promised to look out for me. There was so much noise and action I don’t think anyone could even notice it.

The place was busy with a clientele not usually seen there. A lot of people in jerseys. Tom’s was the only jacket in the place. 

This would be a different experience entirely. I wanted to go as soon as I saw the menu. It was football food: chicken wings, boudin balls, and smashburgers. But this is August, so the chicken wings had a truffle and honey sauce, the fried oysters had caviar as a topper, and the smashburger was Wagyu. There was a “Superbowl Sundae” made with roasted bananas and Guanaja chocolate sauce. Slightly different football food. For slightly different prices. 

We started with fried oysters for Tom, and wings and boudin balls to share. For entrees I had the shrimp remoulade salad and Tom had redfish. We had the sundae and a pecan tartlet for desserts.

The oysters were small and nestled closely together over a Meyer lemon aioli. They were topped with caviar. These were crispy and golden brown. It goes without saying that they were greaseless. This is August, after all. These were terrific.

So were the wings, which had that sludge mouthfeel of richness to the coating. They didn’t seem to be fried first, but maybe they were. They were also wonderful, but for $26 for five they’d better be.

I wasn’t as crazy about the boudin balls, and I wasn’t surprised. They came as an order of 3, and they were large, with a large puddle of pepper jelly underneath, and a dollop of aioli on top and Fontina cheese inside. These were crispy and greaseless too, and had an arancini quality to them. Cutting into them released an oozing cheese. The boudin had an intense flavor that comes from better boudin, but the taste of the pieces/parts really came through. 

Tom’s entree of Snapper Pontchartrain sat beside mashed potatoes that were so creamy they could have passed for a sauce. Piled high on the fish were leeks and wild mushrooms and some shrimp. This was a beautiful dish with a crispy top to the fish, and all of the elements working in a nice harmony of flavors.

My remoulade salad of butter lettuce with crispy shallots and bacon was very nice too. Large leaves of the lettuce were interspersed with sliced shrimp coated with the remoulade dressing. Also intensely-flavored bacon bits were part of this mix.

We had to get the “Superbowl Sundae” for dessert. This was insanely rich. The bananas were first roasted, imparting a unique flavor to the ice cream. There were five little scoops piled into a mountain and drizzled with spiced pecans. An intensely-flavored chocolate sauce was poured liberally over the ice cream. Decorative puffs of whipped cream were garnish.

The sauce was decadently dark, and there was too much of it. Generous as the portion was, it overpowered the banana ice cream, which was unique enough to deserve attention. At $28, I guess size had to be impressive, but we couldn’t finish this, and I hated for the Guanaja chocolate sauce to be wasted.

A pecan tartlet was the other dessert, or rather half a tartlet. It was filled with pecans and not much custard (just the way I like it.) A little oval mound of crème frâiche sat beside it. This too was outstanding.

Outstanding is the word for every experience at Restaurant August, celebrating 25 years in business this year. As I sat in the beautiful dining room today observing tall exploding floral arrangements that are never seen anymore, I realized that all the same standards that were in place from the beginning are still in place a quarter century later. It’s refreshing. The place, the food, and the service are all impeccable.

I went there today to see if something I often say holds true in every case: there are some things that should not be “gourmetized.” Meatballs and spaghetti are the most obvious example, but I would certainly think chicken wings and boudin balls fall into that camp.

What I discovered was that while I continue to feel that way, in the right hands, a gourmet version of these can be great, so good the difference in price isn’t even noticed. Best of all, the experiment was fun. And a great way to feel a small part of the weekend’s festivities.