Thursday, April 5, 2012.
I Can See. 39 Greens. Burger And Fries At Capdeville.
Another enormous thunderstorm awakened us in the wee hours. By "us," I mean me, Mary Ann, and the dog Susie, none of whom checked in on the others. The dog is the most upset by thunder, and hides in exactly the places where one is supposed to go in case of a tornado. Every dog we've had did this, so it's clearly hard-wired. The cat Twinnery, on the other hand, is unperturbed. He takes walks in the rain, and doesn't mind getting soaked.
It was sunny when we got up for good. My work was progressing nicely when I got a call from the optician. After only seventeen days (not counting the two months it took for the first attempt at making them to fail), my new glasses are ready. I picked them up en route to the radio station. They are perfect, and my vision is sharp again. Not even the usual change in depth perception that new glasses always cause. Fake tortoise-shell frames. I have that Clark Kent-Steve Allen look again, after forty years of John Lennon-John Sebastian wireframes.
The radio show ran its annual Gumbo Z'Herbes Greens Census. Gumbo z'herbes is celebrated at Dooky Chase every year on Holy Thursday, and therefore by everyone plugged into the local food scene. Every year I ask callers to name a green to be added to the soup. Sometimes they actually do so, and this is one of those years. We came up with 39 greens. (An odd number is dictated by tradition.) The especially creative ideas are marked with a »:
| Pepper grass Okra Celery Poke salat Ramps Turnip greens Butter lettuce Bok choy Beet tops »Chervil Spinach Kale Swiss chard Parsley Mustard greens »Carrot tops Green onions Mirlitons Collards Basil |
»Rutabaga tops New Zealand spinach (?) Cucuzza Romaine Lemongrass Bay leaves »Broccoli raab Brussels sprouts Snap beans Chives »Green tomatoes »Fennel Cilantro Cabbage Watercress Absinthe Filé Belgian endive »Nopales (cactus pads) |
Capdeville has been on my mind as a dinner place for months. At first I refrained because I thought Mary Ann would like to join me there, hamburgers and fried being a specialty. We went once, but she didn't like the look of the place, and we went elsewhere. Since then, my show has ended after dark, and even though the radio station is only a block away, the restaurant's namesake street is a one-block-long near-alley. This would not have bothered me three years ago. I lived for a number of years in this neighborhood, and it is familiar. But ever since I was mugged in Belize in 2010, and ever since last year's broken ankle made running an iffy proposition, I feel less secure walking in the dark alone.
But the show ends in daylight now. The tables on the sidewalk were full: all women. Inside, the girls outnumbered the guys by about six to one. Makes sense: the primary clientele of Capdeville are the young paralegals and attorneys who work in the many law offices nearby. The table of six next to me (five women, one man, all in their low thirties at the oldest) left no doubt about this. The snippets of conversation I couldn't help but hear (as I tried to tune out the horrible music) was almost entirely about current events, not sports or music. Or eating and drinking.
Capdeville's space seems to have been blasted out of its old commercial building. The rough concrete floor creates most of that illusion. It feels more like a bar than a restaurant, which I suspect is intentional. The bar is serious about its mixology, and the wine selection is greater than I expected. I sampled a cocktail called The Speakeasy: bourbon, St. Germain, and orange flower water. It looked like a Sazerac from a distance, but had a unique flavor I thought was improved by the addition of a few ice cubes.
Fries have their own section of the menu. Fries are a great accompaniment to a cocktail. I chose the version topped with Manchego cheese and chorizo--interesting concept. The melted cheese made the fries on the bottom lose their crispness to their own steam, but that was an acceptable compromise. The pile was easily enough for two or three people.
Capdeville's kitchen offers a much wider range of dishes than bars serving this clientele did ten or twenty years ago. The oyster Rockefeller etouffee and the grilled fish special sounded good. So did the soup of the day, a creamy, peppery concoction I almost went for.
Among the most reliable of my Deft Dining guidelines is #247: "In any comprehensive local set of hamburger vendors, the bars will make the best hamburgers." I allow myself one hamburger per month, and Capdeville's menu leaves no doubt that the place hangs its hat on its burgers.
I asked for the house special burger, served with a creamy peppercorn sauce a la steak au poivre, fried thin onions, Gruyere cheese, roasted garlic aioli, and one very large leaf of Bibb lettuce. All this was enclosed by an oversize onion bun. I cut it into muffuletta-style quarters and found a medium-rare meat ellipsoid, irregular enough to suggest it was made by hand, crusty on the outside, juicy in the middle. The dressings were over the top in fat content. Even if I weren't concerned about the dietary aspect of that, it pushed the flavors out of balance. Next time I have a burger here, it will be simpler.
I didn't know that fries would come with the burger, but the waiter caught that issue and offered a small pile of Capdeville's truffled macaroni and cheese, studded with tiny cubes of pancetta--bacon. So the fat richness continued. A little of this goes a long way. It's tasty enough until one blows a richness fuse.
As if I needed it, I got the fruit cobbler for dessert. This had a good flavor from pears and strawberries, but the batter had not completely baked (or it had been soaking in the juices of the fruits too long), and the texture was offputting.
Here is another restaurant whose main effect on me is a yearning to be twenty-five again. Back then, I had a girlfriend who worked in a law office in the neighborhood, so this would have been perfect.
Capdeville. CBD: 643 Magazine St. 504-371-5915.
It's over three years since a day was missed in the Dining Diary. To browse through all of the entries since 2008, go here.
