As I’ve mentioned a few times lately, we have been taking the opportunity to leave on Saturday and make a day of it, especially when the weather is nice. The Saturday after Hurricane Zeta I pitched a trip west to Baton Rouge but Tom wanted to head east, so we did. I had only one stipulation with that plan, and that was that we not end up at Trapani’s in Bay St. Louis, which we have both deemed ordinary at best.
It was agreed that we would head all the way to Biloxi, which I used to view as closer, until the last trip there made me realize it is not.
We went through Bay St. Louis and got on the Bay Bridge for all points east. When we got onto Beach Boulevard in Pass Christian I was shocked to see that the hurricane was very real here. Piles of twisted piers flanked both sides of the highway for miles. And the amount of sand on the road was alarming. Then we saw sights I haven’t seen since 1969, when our family took a trip to the Gulf Coast after Camille. Seeing boats laying on their side in the grass like toy boats was sobering. There weren’t nearly as many of them this weekend, but they were there. And sand. Everywhere.
I wondered why the road wasn’t closed. And then it was. In Long Beach all traffic was diverted north. We got back to I-10 and headed east, stupidly not wondering if the restaurants we were thinking of visiting were even open.
The Biloxi outpost of Lucy’s Retired Surfer intrigued us when we last passed through here, and of course we always say we need to revisit Mary Mahoney’s. It finally occurred to me to call Mary Mahoney’s before continuing east. Conditions did not look promising. No answer. We called Pier 44 in Gulfport. Uninterrupted ringing. Finally we called Lucy’s in the Warehouse District, where the hostess informed me of the extensive damage from Zeta.
I turned around at the next exit and headed back west for home. By this time I was really hungry and didn’t want to wait until we arrived home. I pitched Middendorf’s but realized their placement along the water’s edge made it unlikely they would be open.
There was the Jordan River Steamer in Kiln but I just didn’t want to spend that much. And then an uncomfortable realization was starting to set in. By default, we would wind up where we promised ourselves we wouldn;t go - right back to Trapani’s. Our knowledge of the area is limited, but it seems if we aren’t interested in beer and a bar scene, the group of places like Blind Tiger along the beach just won’t do. And the wonderful (at last visit many years ago) Sycamore House seems never to be open when we pass through. Our favorite north shore restaurant , Oxlot 9, will soon be opening in the hotel on Beach Boulevard, but that was not this day.
We walked up to Trapani’s determined to find something better than the last time.The place was almost completely empty as the clock neared 3pm. At least the kitchen wouldn't be slammed. Maybe our luck would be better? I didn’t actually believe that, but I wanted to. What I definitely did not want to do was to spend a lot of money on mediocre food.
It was Halloween and this being a place like Bay St. Louis, it would soon be time to see some trick-or-treaters.We sat upstairs and outside, but the most interesting thing to see from that perch was two young palm trees lying on the road’s edge, more Zeta casualties.
The menu is the one sheet COVID printout. We ordered a seafood platter to split, just to take the edge off our hunger. It was good to approach it with such low expectations.
Disappointment would be hard. There was nothing really wrong with it. For the price it seemed small, mostly battered-frozen-but-still-not-bad fries. The best thing on the plate was tartar sauce, which seems like a joke for us to comment on this, but a good tartar sauce is hard to find. The seafood was fried golden brown and was crisp and not greasy, all desirable traits in one’s seafood platter. There was nothing offensive about this plate of fried seafood, and nothing special.
We left Trapani’s Eatery again vowing not to return. A drive along Beach Boulevard revealed an adjacent place called Cuz’s which we may try if we get stuck in Bay St. Louis at eating time again. But we’ll try really really hard not to, at least until the Oxlot people open in the new hotel, or The Sycamore House expands their hours.
