[title type="h6"]Friday, September 13, 2013.[/title]
View from the balcony at Tableau.[/caption]
We walked upstairs, marveling at the beautiful renovation that Dickie Brennan applied to this very old building--the home of La Petite Theatre du Vieux Carre, the oldest continuously operating community theater in America. The place reminded me of Brennan's on Royal Street--or, at least, the way Brennan's looked until recently. And it hit me: no tablecloths. We are getting closer to the end of that era of dining room service.
The balcony is just above the corner of St. Peter and Chartres. From there you see most of Jackson Square, both Pontalbas, the Cabildo, and, from the actual corner, St. Louis Cathedral. Is there a more advantageous half-dozen tables, in terms of the view?
MA was thrilled by everything she saw, except the parts of New Orleans she hates. Like that couple having an argument just below us, beginning to spit at each other. I didn't notice that, but MA never misses such things.
"I don't think anybody here knows who you are!" said MA, moving back to that theme. "That's unbelievable!" But one person did: a lady who attends our Eat Club events frequently, and who is a server here. But she seemed to have defended my secret identity, because it was a long time before an actual server came by. He had a wine list but not a menu. I remember Dickie told me that Tableau would feature a house wine by the carafe. Sounded good to me. A half-liter of white, please.
When the waitress came, I told her we wouldn't mind if we moved to a different table while she brought a tablecloth and setups. There were no tablecloths, she said. But she would fetch us a menu. When she did, she explained to us what gumbo was, and what trout meuniere was, and such like. So we hadn't even registered as locals with this part of the staff. Hmm.
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Combination appetizer of crabmeat and shrimp.[/caption]
Fortunately, I needed no help with the menu. We began with a combination plate of crabmeat, crab claws, and shrimp remoulade for two, with a second appetizer of oysters en brochette. What came out was beyond belief. The crab claws were scrawny. I say that in comparison with some much-better-muscled crab claws we cooked not a week ago. This is peak crab season. Where did they find these things? The lump crabmeat either was standard white or handled so roughly when being sauced that the lumps tore apart. The shrimp were not only smallish but certainly not enough for two people, with a sauce that made no statement. As if to offer a good laugh, the menu calls this a "Demi-Royale."
This combo is familiar to local diners as, among other things, the Galatoire Goute at the restaurant of the same name. That has the same seafoods, twice as fine, twice as much, for about the same price. How could I not think of it?
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Oysters en brochette, all four of them.[/caption]
Oysters en brochette was the first restaurant dish I ever tried to cook for guests at home. I was twenty-four at the time, yet that first bunch of mine were incomparably better than the version turned out by Tableau's staff of chefs. And I gave my guests six, not four. And if the oysters had been this size, I would have given each one eight or ten. Completing this misbegotten attempt were loose breadcrumbs strewn all over the oysters, making no connection with anything.
I had a salad while MA had a bowl of duck-andouille gumbo. There are so many good recipes for this just among the Brennan restaurants that I wonder where they got this one. It was underseasoned, undersalted, and bitter. MA ate a third of it and shoved it my way. I didn't want more that a couple of spoonfuls.
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Full serving of bread at Tableau for two people.[/caption]
I asked for bread to get that flavor out of my mouth. What came were three slices of soft poor boy bread, and a ramekin of butter. The photo shows all of what they brought us. Bread, in case you haven't noticed, is going the way of tablecloths.
The next dish was more like what I had in mind. Not nearly enough restaurants serve seafood courtbouillon, a Creole classic. Tableau had one, and it was very good. Fish, shrimp, crab, and (I think) oysters floated in a great stock held together with a light-brown roux. Green onions and a pepper component that didn't require any help from a bottle completed as fine a version of courtbouillon as I can remember ever having.
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Seafood courtbouillon. Excellent.[/caption]
It came out piping hot, too. I poured myself another glass of wine from the carafe. Oops! Another unforeseen, new-restaurant problem. Out here on the balcony, a wine bottle of any kind will warm up if not on ice. This wasn't, and it was warming up indeed. They need to look at that.
We wrapped up with the banana crepe, which had elements of bananas Foster, including the ice cream. This was big enough for two and very good.
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Bananas Foster crepes.[/caption]
Our Eat Club friend gave us a tour of the restaurant. Not a single detail I noticed has been missed in the design of this fantastically well-located restaurant. But this meal was nowhere close to a maturity of quality. I will write this dinner off, give no rating, and come back in another six months or so.
Unless, of course, Mary Ann wants to have dinner on the balcony again. But she was even more infuriated by this meal than I was.
On the way home, we decided that we must have used up all our bad luck today, even given that it's Friday the Thirteenth. I told her we ought to buy a lottery ticket. It would be the first one in my life. I let her make the purchase at the gas station, because my track record with games of chance is so terrible that I can only relate it by anecdote.[title type="h6"]Tableau. French Quarter: 616 St. Peter St. 504-934-3463.[/title]
