Thursday, February 9, 2012.
Not Packing Yet. Irish House.
Because I have known the exact schedule of our anniversary cruise for about two months, I am nearly ready to depart in two days. Usually travel has me in a panic, because Mary Ann still has things like dates, reservations, and itinerary up in the air when we set out. This is one of the great things about a cruise: it's set in concrete.
After the radio show, I recorded all the commercials that will take the places next week of the ones I usually do live--a big load off my mind. Now all I have to do is a bunch of computer-related stuff for Mary Ann and her book. I hope she is not harboring the illusion that she will get it done in time for the book to to be on the bookstore shelves before Mother's Day. I don't even want to ask her about that.
Dinner at the Irish House, opened last year by Matt Murphy. He was chef at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel practically since it opened in 2000, and had a long stint in the kitchen at Commander's Palace before that. But he may be best known for his escape from a freak illness that almost killed him a few years ago. The drama was heightened by the birth of quadruplets by his wife at the same time Matt got sick. The restaurant community rallied around him to an extent never before equaled, with a huge grazing fundraiser at the hotel. Clearly, it worked. And not only are the quads doing fine, but their little sister is, too.
Matt was talking with folks at the front door when I stepped in. "You came on a good night!" he said. "They're singing sea chanties upstairs!" The Irish House is almost as much a bar and music venue as a restaurant, it appears. In fact, one could call it an all-purpose emporium for all things Irish, from a glass of Guinness to a basket of soda bread to Irish clothing and souvenirs in the gift shop.
I told Matt I was there primarily to have dinner. "If you want to eat, stay down here," he said. "We're going to have music in the dining room, too." Indeed, they did: a violinist and a pianist-singer, performing pleasant songs with a folky quality. I didn't recognize a single tune. Maybe it's all original work. I enjoyed it, and the fact that they didn't over-amplify the sound.
I began with a Guinness, which was a while in coming. "Sorry for the delay," said the waitress, who was anything but inattentive. "We layer it the way it's supposed to be." Layering is the practice of allowing the foam to kick up fully as the stout comes out of the tap into the glass. As the head settles down, the barman adds another layer, then a few more until the glass is full--save for about an inch of foam at the top. (Sometimes they layer one kind of brew over another.)
The first course was potato and leek soup. A big bowl for seven dollars, this hit the spot on this chilly night. However, it was very Irish in not making a big flavor statement. I almost asked for the Tabasco, but decided to go with the program and let the Irish half of my gene pool show its appreciation. I think it may have been down for a nap, though.
Next came the favorite appetizer of the waitress, a puff-pastry tart made with truffled chicken, wild mushrooms, smoked gouda cheese, and a pile of pea shoots on top. This was elegant and light--a good thing, because it filled an entree-sized plate.
The center of the meal was one of the specials: seared salmon atop pureed cauliflower, with green beans and shrimp. The cauliflower was what got me, but I'd forgotten about it when it landed. I couldn't figure out what this white stuff under the salmon was. It was rich and smooth, with the flavor of cream cheese. Then the cauliflower came to me. Ah. The shrimp? Well, we're in New Orleans. The salmon was cooked medium-rare as ordered, with the skin still on the top, almost crispy.
I finished up with toffee bread pudding--not so much different from the standard dessert of our town, but with a slight British accent. With the tip, about $70 for all.
A couple of guys sitting at the bar over a couple of beers stopped me on my way out. One of them was excited about the Irish House's fish and chips. I hadn't noticed that on the menu. Turns out that there are not one or two but five menus here: 1) the one for the dinner I just had; b) another for the bar with things like bangers and mash and hamburgers; iii) a lunch menu; 4) a breakfast menu (every day!), and e) a brunch menu. Well, after running all the food services for a big hotel, I guess that's not a challenge for Chef Matt.
The premises look great. They were formerly those of Coyoacan and Taqueros, Chef Guillermo Peters's great, extinct Mexican restaurants. Those were handsome restaurants, but for the Irish House the place was thoroughly remodeled. Just the right amount of Irishness without going over the top--something the Irish (and their Guinness) are famous for doing.
Irish House. Lee Circle Area: 1432 St Charles Ave. 504-595-6755.
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.
