Wednesday, August 24, 2011.
Roux On Orleans. Electric Ride.
Too many of my goals are about sheer numbers. Right now, 450 restaurants are covered with detailed, up-to-date reviews on my website. But, really, the number of restaurants really deserving close scrutiny is only around 300. Another 200 are good, but serve a limited clientele.
But I feel compelled to reach that 500 figure, even though I know in my heart that I would be performing a better service by doing almost anything else. This is probably a mild form of mental illness.
Tonight I went to Roux On Orleans, which on a number of occasions asked me to review their offerings. The chef is Guy Sockrider, whose food I've enjoyed in previous postings. But Roux On Orleans is in a French Quarter hotel, and no matter how good it ever gets that fact will keep locals from going in large numbers. That's why it had a low priority on my list of restaurants to try. But that compulsive streak I refer to above kept it on that list.
When I arrived at about seven-thirty, the restaurant was completely empty. I had to wait a few minutes before any member of the staff appeared. This was not as horrible as it sounds. Late August to early September is the slowest time for tourism. No eatery feels that more than a hotel restaurant.
The waitress was pleasant and attentive enough once I surprised her with my presence. I asked her some questions about which might be the best choices, and she gave me reasonable answers. I began with the crab cake. It was solid crabmeat, and the buttery, crabby sauce was good. But for a crab cake to make a visual impression it must be either 1) very thick, with visible lump crabmeat poking through the bread-crumb coating, or b) served two at a time. This was neither, and the heavy bread crumb coating made it seem as if something was lacking.
Nothing was lacking in the chicken-andouille gumbo. The problem was too much of everything. The broth was much too thick. If I'd eaten all of this--and it wasn't good enough for me to do so--I wouldn't have been able to start in on the entree.
Which was a more impressive piece of work than its predecessors. A fillet of black drum was encrusted with a tasty coating that reminded me of the great trout Mandich at the extinct restaurant of that name. Underneath it was a pile of lump crabmeat mixed with pecans, spinach and a little tasso. This was very good, and very ample. More than I could finish, which is something I rarely say about a fish dish.
The dinner ended with a light cube of very good bread pudding.
The best news was that all of this except the crabcake was on the $32 Coolinary menu, which included a glass of wine. Bottom line with tip: $57, a terrific deal for such a generous menu, whose only real flaw was the gumbo. The premises were nice, and even the background music--coming from a piano on autopilot across the lobby--was entertaining.
But where was Chef Guy? I would find out two days later.
Starting for home, I saw scary lightning in the distance. No rain--in fact, stars were visible as I crossed the Carrollton overpass. But that would change as I approached the twenty-four-mile Causeway. A few years ago, I would have turned around and waited the storm out. With new bravery born of living through Katrina and last week's stock-market freefall, I drove ahead, into the teeth of the storm.
I soon regretted that decision. This was lightning more intense than any I could remember. The bolts were strikingly bigger--blinding enough that each strike left a persistent image on my retinas. The bolts came down on both sides of the bridge, sometimes with less than a second between flash and boom. The water, I knew, was more likely to get hit than the bridge was. But I also know my chances of getting hit were greater than zero. Ah, well. . . if I die, I die.
But then the rain came, in the torrents one would expect from the advance warnings. And the wind picked up, too--but from the front, making steering easier. But everybody slowed to about thirty-five, extending our exposure to the elements.
The tension remained high for about twenty minutes, after which the assault faded. But this would not be the end of it. On Thursday, it was found that a marsh fire in New Orleans East had been set, almost certainly by lightning. We would have to put up with the effects of that for over a week.
Roux On Orleans. French Quarter: 717 Orleans (Bourbon Orleans Hotel). 504-571-4604.
