Thursday, June 9, 2011.
The Chimes. Taking The Wheel.
Ate a small leftover slice of cheese and tomato pizza from Mellow Mushroom. It had a dreadful mouthfeel, and lacked all the pleasure that comes from eating a well-made pizza. (It was also that way when we first sampled it in the restaurant.) Kind of a letdown, that place. At least as regards the pizza.
The Marys came home from a day across the lake with two hungers and one idea. They wanted to go to Chimes Bar and Grill, the new Covington branch of a long-running LSU hangout in Baton Rouge. The girls have already eaten a couple of meals there. They weren't much impressed by the food, but they very much like the premises. The restaurant is built on the east bank of the Bogue Falaya river, a spot that has remained virginal until now--although quite a few buildings have long been on the west bank.
A gigantic cypress towers over the building. A wooden ramp that isn't quite finished yet (no railings, although the thing looks to be about eight feet above the ground) extends across the slope to the river's edge. On the other side, across from the restaurant's entrance, is a nice old two-story building with galleries all around, in the style of the River Road plantations. It's almost certainly antebellum, but I couldn't discover what it was, who if anyone was living in it, or whether it's part of the restaurant.
People were streaming in as we arrived. Mary Leigh ran inside to get a table, while we were unloading my carcass and associated hardware from the car. The dining room wasn't quite full yet, but it soon would be.
The girls wanted a table on the deck overlooking the river. It was the perfect day for that. A line of heavy summer thunderstorms had come through about an hour before, leaving the skies overcast but the temperature comfortably cool outside.
The menu here is entirely Creole-Cajun pop food. Like Copeland's but not as gimmicky, like the Acme but with more range in the menu. Unlike Zea: there's nothing on this selection you haven't had at least a hundred times before.
Chimes has an oyster bar. And a special on Thursdays: get in before seven, and the oysters are half-price. I thought the price was pretty good even without the special: ten bucks a dozen? Brought down now to five? With oyster prices still as high as they are, this is a giveaway. I guess that releases them from my complaint that the shucker didn't do an especially good job of keeping dirt and shell particles out of the bivalves. I can ignore that. The oysters themselves were good: generous in size, very cold, nice and zinc-y.
Those went down with the help of a pint of Nola Hopmeister, on tap from the Chimes' extensive beer list. It lived up to its name, with a decidedly hoppy, bitter flavor that I find appetite-perking. We are off to a good start.
The Marys went after a batch of the almighty spinach and artichoke dip, served not with tortilla chips but fried bowtie pasta. I didn't think much of any part of that, but MA--who actually likes chainfood--thought it plenty good enough.
Only Mary Ann had an entree: a grilled salmon sandwich, looking like a hamburger, which she said was good. My main course was an appetizer of boudin balls. They were stove-hot from having been deep-fried, but pepper-mild. That was helped a bit by a tangy white dipping sauce, but boudin shouldn't need any flavor enhancers.
Now a bunch of crisp but haphazardly tossed salads. Mary Leigh had an order of cheese fries. It came with a plastic container of brown gravy, nearly completing the formula for what Canadians call poutine: fries with cheese curds and gravy dumped on top. It may be the most disgusting fast food dish in the world.
Mary Leigh was interested in the Canadian aspect. For reasons that won't make much sense even if I explained them, she is hot on hockey. She can't tear herself away from the finals in the sport, which currently fill our television schedule at home. The Marys are pulling for the Bruins, but they can't explain why.
I let the waiter talk me into the bread pudding. It was wide but thin, topped with an oversweet caramel-cinnamon sauce with pecans. I ate about half of it, then my weight-loss light came on. A dozen oysters, two boudin balls, a salad--that's not too big a load. I took one more bite.
Today's Recovery Threshold Crossing was driving the car home from the restaurant, about four miles. It was the first time I've driven a car in three months and two days--by far my longest non-driving spate since I was fifteen. I seem to remember exactly how it's done, though.
The Chimes. Covington: 19130 W Front St. 985-892-5396.
It has been over three years since a day was missed in the Dining Diary. To browse through all of the entries since 2008, go here.
