Thursday, February 23, 2012.
Dinner With Stu. Full House At The Bon Ton.
Stu Barash emailed a couple of days ago, interested in breaking bread. He's in the advertising arm of the tourism business, exiled in Houston since the destruction of his Lakeview home by Katrina. The levee break was a couple blocks from his house, which he and his wife had just moved into. They were informed that no flood insurance was necessary. You've heard the rest of this story before.
Stu and I go back to the late 1970s, when he worked for Mark Smith, the man who owned the Louis XVI and all the restaurants and hotels allied with it. Stu was a New Yorker who fell in love with New Orleans, which explains why he's looking forward to coming back after he builds new digs on his now-empty lot. Stu is a foodie, storyteller, and repository of jokes. He had a radio show about travel for some years before the storm. When we get together, we entertain one another thoroughly.
I suggested we dine at the Bon Ton because a) I haven't been there in a couple of years; 2) it's been on my mind for the past few months, as it always is in the winter, because it reminds me of a heady time in 1974 (long story); and iii) it's across the street from the radio station. Stu hadn't been there in ages either, and he liked the idea.
We caught up, discussed the travel business and cruising, told jokes both old and new, and reminisced about the events and people connected with Louis XVI. Although that restaurant (still alive as a private-dining facility) never became famous, in its halcyon days it was uniquely excellent. It spun off many other restaurants and even more restaurant people.
Stu's best line of the night: "You're the pimp for my wife and me." Stu met her through a phone call each of them made to my radio show in the mid-1990s. He said he was about to go to Smith and Wollensky alone. Then he joked, "If any beautiful lady would like to join me. . . " She called, said he sounded nice. We arranged the whole deal on the air, and the next thing I knew they were hitched.
I expected that the Bon Ton would be slow tonight. But apparently visitors don't grasp that Mardi Gras is an event that comes to a screaming halt on Ash Wednesday. They persist in remaining in town and having a good time. God bless 'em. The restaurant was nearly full.
We started with a plate of fried crawfish tails and catfish, with the secret sauce. (Like all secret sauces, it's a blend of mayonnaise, ketchup, and mustard, but good as a dip for fried seafood.) Then crawfish bisque, much better than the last time I had it here, dense and thick, with three stuffed heads and a third of a hard-boiled egg.
Then oysters Alvin--fried and drizzled with a butter-and-Worcestershire sauce--for me. Stu had black drum Bon Ton, the signature entree of the house, topped with crabmeat and a butter sauce with a slight orange glow from paprika. I never understood the reason for the two fried onion rings, but it looks good. (Maybe that's it. Duh.)
The famous bread pudding for me; none for Stu. He has the same weight problem I do, but not as bad, because he has resistance. Today he did, anyway. He's slimmer than the last time I saw him. For that, I picked up the check. Now he owes me. I'll hit him up for Restaurant August next time.
Bon Ton Cafe. CBD: 401 Magazine. 504-524-3386.
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.
