Tuesday, January 29, 2013.
Superior, Part Two.
The heat broke overnight, chased by a powerful cold front that created a heavy rainfall. The same system chased Mary Ann all the way back from Los Angeles, making for a bumpy ride and returning her to the wet weather she has been cursing for the past two months. She missed all the nice, sunny weather that started the day she left. That's what she gets for running off.
An offbeat Round Table radio show featured Chef Vic Gerrets and manager Shane Waller, both of The Chimes. This was Mary Ann's way of sneaking talk of the Super Bowl onto my otherwise sports-free program. But I was happy to see Vic, who I remember from his years working for Chef Andrea, Petra, Spunto, and the Maple Street Café. He created a distinctive dish during his tenure at Petra: the seared duck breast with a fig glaze, still on the menu at the Maple Street.
During my conversation with Vic and Shane, I asked what I introduced as the dumbest question ever asked on the radio: "Will The Chimes have any of its televisions tuned in to the Super Bowl this Sunday?" I didn't get quite the laugh I wanted. I think they thought I was serious.
Our other guest was Sal Impastato. Not Sal and Sal & Judy's, but his cousin, the owner of the Napoleon House. That's one of the two or three most famous bars in New Orleans, of course. Especially after the Chimes guys left after the first hour (they have much to do this week), Sal and I got to reminiscing about great times at the Napoleon House. For me, the magical era was in the mid-1970s, when I lived in the French Quarter and most of my friends did, too. I could go to the Napoleon House almost any night and know that I'd run into people I knew.
That was before the Napoleon House was air conditioned, and when the music came from a turntable above shelves of classical music. The customers would choose the records, sometimes to the distress of the person who selected the album that was playing at the moment. The biggest controversies arose when an opera lover put one of those LPs on the turntable.
That was around the time when the Napoleon House started serving food. At first it was just muffulettas. Now they have every other kind of sandwich, plus red beans, gumbo, and other eats a visitor the city might want to try. Not as many locals as during the times I remember. And the turntable is long gone, the music now coming from XM or Pandora.
The callers rose to the occasion with their own stories of the Napoleon House. Of course, much was said about the Pimm's Cup, the most famous drink there. I never understood its appeal. Neither did Sal. "But we make a Sazerac as good as anybody's, and serve as many of those as Pimm's Cups," he said. "Probably more."
Mary Ann called after the show, ready to have dinner. She suggested Superior Seafood. Even though that would make two consecutive dinners there for me, I agreed to the idea. With the three of us there (Mary Leigh joined us), I could work up a review.
An order of freshly-fried potato chips first, with a sauce that was like ranch dressing but with some cheese in it. Then a dozen grilled oysters. Nice big ones, served searingly hot, with a cheese so sharp that it took over the dish. I think most makers of grilled oysters use too much cheese, including Drago's. But the variety of the cheese here was a bit much.
Chicken and duck gumbo. Dark roux, very peppery, very thick. The Marys were unimpressed. Now, Sensation salads.
Mary Leigh had brought before her a skirt steak with a side order of fresh-cut fries. The steak was cut the wrong way, from front to back instead of across the grain, making it difficult to chew. ML left three-fourths of it behind.
MA had a couple of skewers of big shrimp with bacon (or was that tasso?) and peppery cheese, with a baked spud on the side. She enjoyed that reasonably well, except for one issue: "I don't like finding a sweet taste in a savory dish!" There it is again. This is almost a theme at Superior.
According to the server, the only local fish today was the speckled trout I tried yesterday. I ordered it it again, this time with the Creole presentation. This wasn't a Creole sauce, but a large drift of corn, with not quite enough other ingredients for me to call it a macquechoux. The fish was big and good but, like yesterday's different version of the same fish, a bit overcooked.
For dessert, I had a slice of carrot cake that was the same size, round shape, and crumbly texture as yesterday's bread pudding, but not quite as sweet.
I was surprised that the Marys were as disappointed by this place as I was. it's the kind of restaurant they usually love. Can I possibly be making progress in advancing the acuity of their palates?
Nah.
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