Tuesday, October 6. Good-Bye To Gerard. John Besh's Cookbook Party. The memorial service for Gerard Crozier was at midday at St. Pius X in Lake Vista. I expected a large crowd of his former customers, chefs, and other restaurateurs to be there, and showed up early. But there was plenty of room. Is this what happens after you leave town for four years? Even after you've cooked here for thirty-five years? The customers outnumbered the colleagues. The chef contingent was led by the French chefs, who are a very tight, loyal fraternity. I couldn't think of one who was missing. Even Daniel Bonnot came in from France, where he lives most of the time now. But where were all the other chefs? Maybe they were there earlier.
Gerard Crozier, the wiry Lyonnaise chef, ran the best French bistro in New Orleans history. With the exception of a short period after he moved to Metairie, I always gave him a five-star rating. He was so angry with me for lowering the rating to four stars that he banned me from the restaurant for awhile. That blew over, and we became good enough friends that we always insulted one another whenever we met. (It's a guy thing, and a part of his personal repertoire.)
Gerard and his wife Eveline moved to Knoxville after Katrina dealt major damage to their unlucky but delicious Chateaubriand Steakhouse. A rumor I heard about Gerard proved true: he worked at the Knoxville Wal-Mart. Apparently the Croziers didn't need the money, and Gerard liked schmoozing with people. Regular Wal-Mart customers and employees attended the Knoxville services in large numbers.
Gerard's death was sad and sobering. There had been nothing wrong with him. He was still running and in great shape physically. But one night, while watching television, he just died. He was only sixty-three.
Eveline was, of course, stricken. Their son Francois, who I can't remember having seen since he was a six-year-old at the restaurant in New Orleans East (he's in his thirties now), was even more upset. Not for a moment during the visitation and service did I see his eyes dry. He wrote me a note of appreciation for the obituary I published in the newsletter, and went on to say that maybe he should have learned more about cooking from his masterful dad. But cooking was never an interest for him, and this is the time in history when people generally avoid their parents' footsteps. My kids certainly do.
But the tone changed during the sermon in the Mass and in the eulogy. In both, Gerard's sometimes devilish prankishness was the main theme. He was a fun-loving guy, who never took anything too seriously. Not even his cooking. He was such a natural and so well trained that he could turn out brilliant food in his sleep. Even if you knew his recipes, you couldn't cook them as well as he could. He had la technique down cold.
At his memorial, I learned something about Gerard I didn't know. He was a lifelong, regular blood donor, and he'd donated all his organs at death. Hence the little box of him on the table at the front of the church.
My plan was to have lunch somewhere between the end of the services and showtime. But none of the restaurants I thought about going to were open. And I wasn't hungry anyway. I was one of Gerard's first customers when he opened his first restaurant in 1976, when I was in my mid-twenties and still learning my job. He was a given throughout my career as a restaurant reporter. And now I can't say what he's up to anymore? That's a loss.
John Besh's cookbook was officially launched tonight with a big party at Restaurant August. I met Mary Ann over there and we hung out for awhile. It was a little embarrassing at first: people were lining up to talk to me, and a photographer from Esquire Magazine--which was co-sponsoring the event--told me he wouldn't leave without my picture.
On the other hand, the real star signed piles and piles of his excellent new book, My New Orleans: The Cookbook. I'm glad that it's selling for $45. That prevents it from competing with my cookbook, even though it will surely sell at least as many copies. It's a beautiful piece of work, and unites two currents in food-book publishing these days. In addition to the two-hundred-plus recipes, which are surely terrific, John tells a bunch of stories about food, food people, and his career. I hope he sells a million of them. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy.
Or a busier one. I heard that the Stage Door Canteen at the World War II Museum in the Warehouse District is shortly to open. That will be the sixth restaurant for the Besh Group. He's ahead of Emeril (who has three), even with the Taste Buds' Zea, and catching up to the Brennans (ten).
The food was John's greatest hits: the gnocchi with crabmeat, a massive display of charcuterie, buttermilk-fried quail, a truly fantastic oyster soup, and the inevitable beef short ribs (MA's favorite). Lots of good wine, plus three great single-malt Scotches from Glenrothes, one in the barrel since 1985!
