Thursday, December 17, 2009. Morton's, A Refuge From The Storm. Not only has the rain returned, but with more insistence than it had earlier in the week, a constant downpour all day and all night--accompanied late in the day by strong, cold winds. It made me nearly run to the refuge of the elevators in the Canal Place parking garage, en route to Morton's Steakhouse. That's where the radio show and an Eat Club dinner would remove me from all that nasty weather. Like most Morton's, this one is tucked away like a speakeasy, with no windows to the outside world. It's perfect for days like this.
We had an unusually lively radio show, and I know why. I arrived with a lot of stories to tell. When I'm animated, the audience picks up the mood and rides with it. We didn't even talk about steak all that much.
Both the show and the dinner transpired in The Boardroom, the private dining room of Morton's. I wish I had know that the main dining room would not fill up, because I would have requested that we be out there instead. It's an unusually handsome space, built out in the 1980s for the short-lived but innovative Parker's. I discussed that on the air, and a caller reminded me of Parker's last name, which I'd forgotten: Barnes. He had a restaurant in the French Market before this one, and disappeared after. I did a web search for him and turned up nothing.
The dinner was Morton's Reveillon menu, with no variations other than the inclusion of BV Coastal Chardonnay and Cabernet. (The Cabernet was pretty good, I thought.) We began with a choice of a crabcake (those who had it were pleased) and what the menu called "Oysters Rockefeller, traditional style." Those were good enough. The oysters weren't overbaked, which is the usual problem with this dish. But only someone who didn't live in New Orleans (which Morton's corporate chefs don't) could consider these traditional. Anise-flavored spinach topped with mornay is the way oysters Rockefeller are served around the country, all right. But this is a New Orleans dish, and we don't do it that way. (Antoine's, the originator, certainly does not.) Then big salads, the Caesar being the better of the two.
The entree decision was between a filet mignon and a Cajun-style ribeye. These would not be of the pedigree for which Morton's became famous; USDA Prime would run the food cost out of control. I knew and expected that. The filet was good enough. Mine was, anyway. But I migrated at this course to a table at which sat two guys with problems. One had an allegedly medium-rare ribeye that was in reality stone cold, extra-rare. They took it back, burned the outside, but left the inside still very rare. The other fellow wanted medium and had well done. Accuracy of broiling is certainly the most important criterion in any steakhouse, and one of the hardest to hit. The fact that they were feeding the forty-eight of us at one time made this even harder.
I escaped from that table for dessert. Creme brulee was well enough made to require no comment. I remained to discuss past dinners and other matters until almost everybody else was gone. As had happened two nights ago at Arnaud's, I wished that I had a place to stay in town, so I could hang with these folks in the bar for a digestif, instead of having to remain sober for the drive home. That was no fun, with a cold north wind blowing hard and the rain increasing as I made my lonely drive across the Causeway.
Morton's The Steakhouse. CBD: 365 Canal (Canal Place Mall) 504-566-0221. Steak.
