Thursday, February 14, 2013.
I Wish I Had A Valentine.
In a lot of ways, Mary Ann and I have a role-reversed relationship. Although I spring for the expensive stuff (that $350 anniversary dinner at the Windsor Court Monday, for example), she is more likely to give me a card. I got one with a nice long note on our anniversary morning, and another today for Valentine's Day. Both had cat themes. I have a weakness for cats, and she likes to make fun of that. This one showed a female kitten (I could tell the sex, because it had three colors, a quality that doesn't appear in males) smiling at me. When I opened the card, the cat started playing a piano.
Mary Ann's desire for Valentine's Day dinner (she is one of the majority of women who must have that celebration on February 14) was Tomas Bistro. That's Tommy Andrade's quiet, romantic bistro in the Warehouse District. It's across from his other restaurant Tommy's, a much more boisterous place.
As soon as the show was over, I walked there (it's two blocks from the radio station) to get a good table and an early start. MA doesn't like dining late. But this night she didn't like the idea of dining at all. She called to say she had turned around on the Causeway and was headed home. Some strange muscle ache. Might be the flu.
She told me I had to go to Tomas Bistro anyway, because Tommy is one of her clients and she didn't want him to feel neglected. No chance of that. I have been an admirer of Tommy and all his restaurants since his Sazerac days in the 1970s.
So there I was, dining alone on Valentine's Day. Story of my life. Chef Guy Sockrider made things enjoyable anyway. He had an attractive $59 four-course Valentine's menu, but he asked whether he could rejigger it so I could try a few new things.
The first course was an old thing, from his days as chef at Muriel's. A pair of goat-cheese-stuffed crepes had a thick, creamy crawfish sauce spooned into the interstices. Very good; twice as much as necessary for an appetizer.
Next a small bowl of bouillabaisse, chock full of the classic seafoods used for that Marseilles soup here in New Orleans. Then a crisp salad of Belgian endive, hearts of palm, arugula, and a dressing so simple it couldn't even be called a vinaigrette.
That salad sharpened the taste buds for a nice surprise: chicken Pontalba, one of those many New Orleans restaurant chicken dishes (Clemenceau and bonne femme are others) that consist of a big piece of chicken covered and surrounded by a sort of hash. The Pontalba version is the best of them all, with fried potato cubes, ham, mushrooms, and bearnaise sauce. It began at Brennan's, and looks to me like a modification of Antoine's chicken Rochambeau. (In its early days, Brennan's borrowed quite a few ideas from Antoine's, its around-the-corner competitor.)
Tommy dropped by with a colorless Champagne bottle, keeping the label hidden. "I like those old, simple dishes, don't you?" he asked, pouring the bubbly. I wasn't sure whether he was kidding. Chicken Pontalba isn't hard to make--we do it at home whenever Jude's in town--but it definitely has a restaurant quality.
Now he wanted me to guess the identity of the wine. "It's something different from the typical Champagne," I said, not taking even a baby step onto that limb. I was thinking that it might be a high-end Spanish cava. I'm glad I didn't say that, because in was in fact a much more precious wine--Dom Ruinart Blanc de Blancs. Now there's a Champagne house I haven't sampled in a while. And I don't think I've ever tried the blanc de blancs, made entirely of Chardonnay.
"I love this because it has that beautiful white grape taste," he said. "I prefer it to the Champagnes made with Pinot Noir." Which most Champagnes are.
"Mary Ann would have loved this," I said.
The Champagne was good with the chicken. So was the glass of Radio Coteau Pinot Noir. Tommy's mild disdain for Pinot Noir-based Champagnes does not affect his appreciation of a good red still Pinot Noir. This one was made in Sonoma County and was rich. The name translates from French as "radio broadcast from the hillside." I liked it already. It also has an idiomatic second meaning: "word of mouth." Whoever thought this up was very clever.
Good caramel custard to finish up. I was joined in this by Tommy's own sweetheart, a British lady. Mary Ann and I got to know her last time we were here. We have the same breed
of dogs, and that's the stuff of lengthy conversation.
Tomas Bistro. Warehouse District: 755 Tchoupitoulas. 504-527-0942.
