Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Norma And Joe Stuff Us With Antipasto. Creole Fruitcake. Logrolling With Peggy.
Norma and Joe Webb came by for the rountable radio show today. They own Nor-Joe Imports--a terrific source of Italian food products both for restaurants and the general public. They also make one of the two or three best muffulettas in town. They showed up with four of the big sandwiches, plus an antipasto platter big enough to feed twenty people.
Next to Norma and Joe, nibbling her share of the prosciutto and provolone, was Peggy Scott Laborde. I have eaten with her many times over the years and she never seems to put the brakes on her fork, but she remains as slender as the television host she is. Peggy is the spearhead of and co-author with me of Lost Restaurants of New Orleans. Her presence on today's show represented logrolling of the most flagrant kind, as we talked about how wonderful our book was. There was a time when I could get into trouble for this kind of thing. But as long as I give away a few books to listeners the bosses don't seem to mind.
Also helping to put a dent in Norman and Joe's largesse was Greg Mullins. His grandfather founded Baker Maid Products, which Greg now manages. Baker Maid bakes a lot of products, including a wide range of items sold in classy department-store food sections. But it's best known around here for its fruitcakes, sold in New Orleans supermarkets under the name Creole Royale. Its most recognizable feature is the painting (by no less than Charles Reinecke) of St. Louis Cathedral on the can lid.
Creole Royale fruitcake is exceptional in being actually edible. In fact, I love the stuff. Until she passed away, Mary Ann's mother gave one to every adult member of her very large family--including all the in-laws--every Christmas season. The fruitcakes are pre-sliced, and each slice is wrapped. That keeps it moist for a very long time. I discovered a Creole Royale deep in the pile of junk in the back of our pantry one October a few years ago, and it was still good.
Johnny Carson promulgated the One-Fruitcake Theory, in which only one fruitcake existed in all the world. There appeared to be many of them because as soon as someone received a fruitcake, he would give it to someone else. "I can prove that Johnny's theory is wrong, because we made tens of thousands of them this year," Greg said. "With ten days left to go before Christmas, we're barely keeping up with the deliveries."
We proved another theory with these fruitcakes. It's said that a large majority of people listening to a radio show tuned in within the previous three minutes. My producer Mindy stayed busy telling callers the name of the fruitcake, even though we mentioned it on the air again and again.
I didn't eat any of the fruitcake this afternoon. But I did down a lot of prosciutto, sopressata, capicola, salami, mozzarella, and provolone. Enough that I got a salt buzz from eating it all. Even after the news department and others still around the radio studios after six ate their share, Norma and Joe's platter was still heavy. Mary Ann ordered me to bring it all home, of course.
