Thursday, January 17, 2013.
The Critics From Las Vegas Ascend To N.O. Café Amelie.
A few weeks ago I got a call from a television producer working on a show for the Travel Network. In it, two restaurant critics from Las Vegas travel around the rest of the country, assessing the dining possibilities in each city they visit. As if that can be done in a few days.
The twist is that they also call on a local critic. (Which, of course, they should have done in the first place, but I guess solid facts are boring these days.) The two visiting critics each select a restaurant that he believes best exemplifies the state of the culinary arts in the subject city, and gives a brief review on camera. Then the local critic breaks in and tells the visiting team which of them was more in tune with the way things really are.
There's more to the gimmick. These two Las Vegas reviewers could not be more different in terms of personal style. John Curtas is an attorney, wears a white linen suit and a bow tie, and has traditional tastes. Al Mancini, on the other hand, wears his hair in an orange mohawk and is clothed largely in leather. He used to be a lawyer, but quit to become a free spirit.
I was told not to reveal much more about the show. The two restaurants selected for review are poles apart from one another, although both are good places to eat. The critic whose restaurant I chose as the more illustrative of current New Orleans dining won a bet with the other, who would then undergo a bizarre penance that could only be dealt in New Orleans. (Or, perhaps, Haiti.)
They say that if all goes well the series will be on television in the spring.
The shooting took place in the middle of the French Quarter, a couple of blocks from a restaurant I have been trying to get to for the past year or two. It's been quite a long time since my last meal at Café Amelie, a restaurant whose outstanding distinction is its courtyard. That's a large, well-planted space immediately adjacent to Royal Street, so inviting that the place wouldn't need especially great food to stay busy all the time. And it always seemed to me that this kept it from advancing beyond the pretty-good state in its cooking.
But judging by the dinner I had here tonight, great advances have occurred in the kitchen. The menu is much more interesting than I remember. For starters, it uses so much seasonal eats that the whole card is reprinted more or less daily. Although the style of the cooking is generally traditional Creole, the offerings sound and taste fresh and special.
This was a cold, breezy night, too chilly for the courtyard to be used even with the outdoor space heaters between the tables. That's all right with me. Al Fresco has never been my friend. All the active tables this night were in what looks to me like a slave quarters (they call it a carriage house). The rooms are small and the ceilings low. The brick walls surround decidedly antique furnishings, with a look that one sees more in the rest of the South than in New Orleans.
I started with the last bottle of Abita Christmas Ale left in Café Amelie's cooler, followed closely by a bowl of chicken-andouille gumbo. Dark roux, generous amounts of the namesake ingredients, and a seasoning level that needed no adjustment to accommodate my pepper-loving palate.
Unless I misunderstood the server, they don't really have a small side salad here. She did offer a half-portion of an entree salad made with greens, tomatoes, pecans, blue cheese, and a few other ingredients. My only complaint about that would be that it was a bit filling, with a large load of pecans.
The nicest surprise was the grilled, sliced duck breast. It came out with a version of the familiar orange sauce, but with less sweetness than typical--a welcome departure. But it also had a very convincing pepper component. And if there's one flavor that can be relied upon to get my attention, it's sweet heat. Very good, and fleshed out with some sweet potato fries (which may have been roasted) and green beans.
For dessert, they had a berry crumble with ice cream for me. It seemed perfect after what had come before. The whole evening was delightful, including the advice of the servers, which I followed for most of the meal.
It was another of those nights when I wished I had a pied-a-terre in town. I was pooped, for some reason. Being tired always makes me feel guilty. How dare I call what I do for a living work?
Cafe Amelie. French Quarter: 912 Royal. 504-412-8965 .
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