Wednesday, April 13, 2011.
Oyster Poor Boy.
The high point of the day was Mary Ann's discovery that she was out of the food she brought home from the French Quarter Festival. Almost, anyway. A smoked turkey leg from Jacques-Imo's and a piece of hot sausage from Vaucresson remain. She wants to make gumbo with those two items, but she hasn't, yet.
So, when lunchtime rolled around, she felt it necessary to make a run to a restaurant for me. I let her spill out the places she would go, and chose one of them. The Acme. A fried oyster poor boy, please, with buttered French bread and extra pickles. This would not travel well, of course--no fried seafood sandwich would. But getting me down the steps and into the car to eat at the restaurant is beyond inconvenient.
I am counting firsts and lasts since the accident that broke my ankle. This was my first serving of fried oysters. Big ones, meaty and tasty. Not perfect: they fried them a little too long. But my palate is in deprivation mode, and that makes everything taste better. Who said, "Hunger is the best sauce"? It's true.
Two weeks ago, Mary Ann bought a porterhouse steak from Fresh Market, and has been watching it lose freshness in the refrigerator. She said this evening that it's now or never. She overgrilled it and declared that it was over the hill and would have to go to the dog. Fifteen dollars! she moaned. But I have not been hungry for a big steak. Part of that is my fear that it will trigger a gout attack, which in my current state is really awful. But she is exploring the possibility of blaming the loss of the steak on me, and I think I'd rather have the gout.
Acme Oyster House. Covington: 1202 US 190 (Causeway Blvd). 985-246-6155.
