Thursday, May 30, 2013.
Back To Andy's With The Premature Babes.
Mary Leigh returned Tuesday night from two weeks in Maryland with a fresh idea of her future. She attended the college graduation of one of her cousins up there, and something about it said to her that she should complete her degree. So she will take her two years' worth of Tulane transcripts and check out LSU. Target: a degree in graphic design.
I could have told her that was the way to go three years ago. Being a mediocre but longtime graphic designer myself, I know that the growth of online media has created many opportunities in that field. But when one is in one's early twenties, one must blaze one's one path. My father, for example, never could figure out what it was that I did for a living, and thought I should be in banking.
I was too jammed to give MA more than a welcome-back hug yesterday, plus a plan for dining together today. At a place she would like, of course, with a good wedge salad and burger. I wouldn't have chosen Andy's Bistro for my own needs--the place is still too new for the kind of investigations I perform. But work isn't everything.
We discussed this penchant the Marys have of going to newly-opened restaurants. "You should just keep being a slowpoke old grandpa and let us write the reviews of the the hip new places," Mary Ann said. She didn't expect me to agree, but I long ago discovered that when a proposition I'm not comfortable with is laid before me, often the best response is, "Great! Go ahead and do that!"
In the same second, a title for the column popped into my brain. "We'll call it 'The Premature Babes!'" Mary Ann--who only laughs at my quips when they're really, really good--laughed. And then the Marys were planning what just-opened place they'd visit for the first column by The Premature Babes.
We were sitting outside Andy's again, even with a threat of rain in the sky, and even though those tables are designed more for drinks and finger food than anything involving plates and utensils. The first food to arrive--with the news that tonight is dollar martini night--was a mound of the da-glo orange, thin onion rings. That cinched it. These are, I declare here and now, the best onion rings in New Orleans. They're thin like Charlie's, but the magic comes from marinating the raw rings in hot sauce. Brilliant! And great with my self-enforced one martini.
Now a cup of seafood gumbo. Excellent, if made more in the style of a chicken gumbo. Crabmeat, oysters and shrimp aplenty, well seasoned, just thick enough. And the wedge salad for ML (who is watching her weight), followed by the hamburger for MA (who says she is watching her weight).
My entree was the double-cut pork chop, served in sizzling butter by my request. The standard issue involved green, sweet potatoes, and other familiar pork-chop partners, all of which seemed too heavy for this warm afternoon. The chop with the butter was just right.
No sooner had I ordered the bread pudding than the rain finally began to fall. We grabbed everything an ran inside, where we found a nearly full dining room. This is the busiest I've seen Andy's, but quite a margin.
And the noisiest. Tile floors, lots of mirrors, framed art, and windows, no tablecloths: a recipe for the kind of lively acoustics that restaurateurs love. (Because it makes customers depart sooner, effectively increasing the seating.)
Andy's Bistro. Metairie: 3322 N. Turnbull Dr. 504-455-7363.
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