Tuesday, February 8, 2011.
Dr. Chocolate, Barbershop, Le Foret, Mrs. Pastry Chef.
The fourth of our Tuesday round-table radio shows continued to prove that it was a good idea, that this old dog can learn a few new tricks, and that Mary Ann does a great job of booking guests. She likes themes, and with Valentine's Day upon us she booked Rick Streiffer. He's the owner (although his wife seems to be the actual boss) of Blue Frog Chocolates on Magazine Street. He made himself especially welcome by bringing a few boxes of his chocolates.
Rick proved to have many facets, all of which fit into the program. He's a medical doctor in family practice, and had a few things to say about the way we eat these days. "Portions are too big in restaurants," he said. "They're a lot bigger than they were years ago, and they keep growing." I noted that the force behind this is an unspoken agreement between restaurateurs and their customers. It goes like this: I'll give you plenty of food if you'll pay higher prices for it. So both sides get what they want, to the long-term detriment of one another. Another flaw in the pure-market-forces fallacy.
Dr. Rick also clicked into the game played by another guest--if I may consider a sixteen-man barbershop chorus a single guest. I was a barbershop singer for years, until they moved their rehearsals to Eat Club night. And--surprise! Dr. Rick is also an inactive barbershop singer, happy to ring some chords today. He's the guy in the blue shirt on the right; to his immediately left is Spud McConnell, who joined us in a couple of songs.
The barbershoppers were here to promote their annual Singing Valentine service. Quartets show up at the homes or offices of wives or girlfriends (and a few husbands and boyfriends). They sing two love sings, give the loved one a rose and a small box of Blue Frog chocolates, and take a picture of the occasion, all for fifty bucks. Rick and I joined the chorus on "Heart Of My Heart" and "Wonderful World." Mary Ann predicted that the barbershoppers would be hard to push out of the studio, and indeed they stayed for three more songs. But as long as they let me sing, they can stay as long as they want.
Also in attendance was Danny Millan, the manager of Le Foret, MA's choice for romantic dining at the moment. But a question had to be asked: why was Le Foret's chef Jimmy Corwell gone from the restaurant? Danny said that it was a mutual decision that there be a parting of the ways, and that Corwell was likely to stay in New Orleans. But that's as far as Danny would go.
And Danny did go, an hour early, because he said he had to act as maitre d' at the restaurant tonight.
That left me with Dr. Rick and Simone Rathle. I met Simone in the late 1980s, when she was public relations director at the Windsor Court Hotel. She moved to Washington, D.C., where she formed her own p.r. firm, working mostly with restaurants. Her husband is Rich Guas, a New Orleans-born pastry chef who recently published a cookbook called GoodDamSweet. He owns a classy pastry shop in Alexandria, Virginia. These D.C. area connections continue to swirl around me, even since Katrina.
The three of us answered phone calls and talked about a wide range of eat topics while I tried to jam in twenty-one live commercials. That's not quite a record, but it's an aberration on the very high side.
In addition to all the chocolates, a king cake managed to land in the studio. I ate too much of all that to be hungry for dinner. A bowl of the excellent hot and sour soup at Sesame Inn sounded perfect--especially since it was cold outside. But Steve, the owner, pressed some lettuce wraps and shrimp balls upon me. He remembered that the last time MA and I had those we loved them. This is how he treats all his regulars. I wish there were some way of saying that all I really wanted was the soup, without offending this extraordinarily friendly, hospitable restaurateur.
Did I just catch myself complaining about something else wonderful in my life? Shame on me.
Sesame Inn. Mandeville: 408 N Causeway Blvd. 985-951-8888.
