Tuesday, November 3, 2009. Battery Death. Return To Studio. Mayas. The battery in my car was completely dead this morning. Worked fine yesterday. I tried starting it by using a portable booster battery I keep around for just such problems, but it had no effect. The battery acted like it had a short. I called AAA to jump it and drove it to the dealer. The reason I went there was that I discovered the real problem. For some reason, my fog lights have been coming on for no reason, while the car is just sitting there. Today, I can't turn them off. That's certainly enough to drain the battery. I'll bet this switch costs $350 to fix.
I drove into town in Mary Ann's Honda, which I don't like driving. The places where I put my hands on the wheel are blocked, and I can't find another good position. And the thing feels big. But I must go in. This is my first day back in the radio studio in over two weeks. Or maybe I could have gotten away with staying home. Nobody noticed I was gone except the people who pile up mail. And my producer Mindy, of course. Mark Chifici, one of the sports guys on WWL, asked, "Are you sitting in for your wife today? (She's guest-hosted the show for the past couple of weeks.)
Dinner at Mayas, the Caribbean-Latin American café on Magazine Street. Every time here, the environment pleasantly surprises me. It's in a very old building, and its equally ancient neighbors have not generally gentrified their properties. Mayas, on the other hand, actually feels rich--not something we associate with Latin American restaurants, although I see no reason why we shouldn't.
It was a gratifying, even exciting dinner, marred only by two timing problems--the same ones I had last time I was here. I bit for one of the house's specialty cocktails, a Caribbean martini. Made with coconut milk, flavored vodka, and pineapple, it nevertheless didn't resemble a pina colada. Much better. But it took a good ten minutes for them to make it. Why?
My first course was a vegetable soup with meatballs. Spicy, chunky, fresh-tasting. I was about a third of the way through it when the waiter came out with a kitchen glove on one hand. It held a plate of fried eggplant, napped with a spicy tomato sauce and shredded cheese. One day I will hear an acceptable explanation for why waiters seem to think it's okay to bring out the next course in the middle of the last one. Until I do, I'll keep saying what I said to this guy: "I'm not ready for that. Bring it back later."
I will give the waiter points for returning later with what was at least close enough to a freshly-made second course, instead of trying to give me the one that visited earlier. That pile of fried vegetables was very good, and I'm glad I got to taste it the way it was supposed to be.
The entree was a variation on a salmon special offered that night, with an intriguing saffron and curry sauce. I asked whether they'd make the same dish with scallops. No problem. And here it was, another plate so hot the waiter needed the kitchen glove again.
This tasty dish revealed an issue. Salmon? Scallops? They also had Chilean sea bass, mussels, and clams. All that comes from cold waters, either far north or far south. Why no fish from the part of the world from which the recipes come? I'll assume the shrimp were local, but where's the redfish, drum, flounder, or the other warm-water fish more customary in this kind of cooking.
I had eaten too much, but stayed for the flan anyway. Very good, distinctly Latin American, with a heavy caramel and a stuffer texture than you'd find in, say, a French place.
This is the fourth or fifth restaurant to open serving this kind of food since the hurricane. We had none of it before. Mayas is not only good, but it has brought us a flavor palette that will be new to most local diners.
Mayas. Garden District: 2027 Magazine 504-309-3401. Caribbean. Mexican. Spanish. Central American.
