Tuesday, November 20, 2012.
Thanksgiving Restaurants.
Mary Ann's lineup of round table show guests--three people from two restaurants-- had to do with Thanksgiving. Shirley Deluzain operates Benedict's Plantation in Mandeville. These days, they do much more catering than restaurant service. The regular schedule includes only Mother's Day and Thanksgiving, holdovers from the long-running Sunday brunches she and her late husband Benny served there for many years. The rest of the time, the place is busy with weddings and such.
Also here were Kevin Kelly and his chef Jeremy Langlois. Kevin owns Houmas House Plantation, which is probably the most actively growing plantation house anywhere near here. He has redone the grounds in the spirit of John Burnside, under whose ownership the grand mansion became opulent. Kelly has a taste for opulence, and every part of the old (mid-1700s) mansion has been redone. Buildings that were known to have existed but were long gone have been reconstructed according to original plans. The gardens are seasonally lush. A group of bed-and-breakfast apartments are in the near future.
Best of all, from my favorite perspective, is that Jeremy's cooking is ambitious and excellent. He came from the employ of Chef John Folse--he had been the chef de cuisine of Folse's Bittersweet Plantation-- eight years ago. He has cooked there ever since. We talked about the regular menu, then the brunch he plans to serve on Thanksgiving. After two hours, it came out that the place is completely booked up for that holiday.
It was just as well. Three guests and two subjects are not enough to make the round table conversation light up, even with brilliant conversationalists like Kevin. I dismissed them all at five, and the callers and I addressed Thursday's impending cooking exercises.
I had a few commercials to record before I could leave. Then I headed for home, knowing what awaited me there. If I don't make presentable the few parts of the house that fall under my domain, the spirit of the holiday will be further lost. All I had for supper was a slice of the seemingly endless supply of pizza in the freezer. The day I count on its being there will be the one on which there will be nothing.
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