Tuesday, December 18, 2012.
Annunciation Coming Right Along.
Back when my getting into the restaurant business made a little bit of sense (instead of none at all, as now), I had a marketing plan that I think would work for a new restaurant in a secondary location, with no reputation to push-start the engine.
I would hire about twenty people whose job it would be to show up dressed like customers. I'd place half of them at tables visible from outside through a window or a door. If passers-by could see the bar, I'd put a few of these folks in there, too.
And the would line up on the sidewalk in front of the door.
Popularity feeds back. Customers find a line in front of a business highly attractive--or, at least, worth a look. Most of them would probably pick up on the illusion immediately, but once they're inside they're vastly more likely to stay than if they hadn't come in or even slowed down. An empty restaurant is the worst advertisement a restaurant could have this side of a food poisoning rumor.
Tonight, I was thinking about trying Dijon, in the old firehouse on Annunciation Street. The first time I went there, the place was completely empty. After the owner told me of chef problems I just left. I drive in front of the place almost every day after the show makes me good and hungry. But I don't notice a significant number of people in there. Maybe their main business comes later. And they do seem to be trying to launch, mounting several charity events that sounded quite appealing.
The thing for me, of course, is to get a few friends to join me at Dijon. But tonight that wasn't going to happen. I pulled up in front anyway. The door was open--wide open--but I couldn't see anybody. Not even an employee.
I've eaten in many empty restaurants over the years, and most of the time it doesn't bother me. But it does at Christmastime. I couldn't bring myself to do it tonight.
I doubled back downtown on Annunciation, and fetched up in the restaurant of the same name. The place was nearly full, but there was a great deuce next to the bar, with a good light shining down, to boot. (The darkness of restaurants is what will get me to finally by a Nook or an iPad.) The maitre d' was well decked in Yule attire, and introduced him as Santa Host. He then launched into "The Christmas Song" (the one that starts out with chestnuts), and I joined him for a few bars.
The restaurant felt warm and cheerful and social. The clientele looked mostly local, although a few people who might have been overflow from Cochon across the street were there, too.
I studied the menus for a long time. Chef-owner Steve Manning has not been hesitant to install the kind of food he cooked at Clancy's for many years, including many of the exact same dishes. That gives Annunciation a recent-retro quality. The food of the 1980s seems to be making a comeback lately. It was a high-water mark for New Orleans cooking, and I've often lamented its passing in favor of newer recipes. But now I find myself not turned on as much as I used to be. Hmm.
That effect took nothing from the food. I began with a pair of seared scallops topped with a crescent moon of foie gras. This may have been the prettiest presentation of duck liver I've ever had before me. But not for long, because it made for edifying eating, too.
The salad that came next actually looked like Christmas. Wide leaves of lettuce made a circle, in the center of which were crunchy, shredded vegetables and ricotta salata, with a thick, tan vinaigrette. Very good.
I was thinking about fish when I walked in, and thought even harder about it when I saw tripletail running as a special. But then the waiter said that there were two filets mignon left in the house, and that it was made with a demi-glace with oysters. Oysters and beef are magic together, like a major chord in four-part harmony singing. The steak or the tripletail? I asked the waiter. He looked to the right and left, as if to keep his answer a secret. The filet, he said.
He was right about that. The steak was how I'd prepare one for myself at home, seared top and bottom, rare in the middle. I would not have make demi-glace. I did it once and now I can say that I can, but I don't want to go through the two days' work again anytime soon. So I'm glad Steve made it, and perfectly at that.
Dessert was a coconut ice box pie. I was thinking about the bread pudding, which had a twist or two that caught my attention. Once again I deferred to the waiter. The pie was not much on looks, but it was good enough to eat in its entirety. Not too sweet, it was replete with more coconut by far than typical. And that's what I came for.
The liquid part of the dinner was first a glass of Simonnet Sauvignon Blanc, then Acquagiusta Rosso, a generic Tuscan (read Chianti). Both nice. It all added up to $114 inclusive, which caught my attention. The filet did it.
I drove past Dijon on my way home. Happy to see a few people in there. I still think they ought to take a look at hiring faux customers to stand around giving a better illusion. It's not like the world drives in front of the place. And it's a handsome space.
Annunciation. Warehouse District: 1016 Annunciation. 504-568-0245.
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