Wednesday, December 23, 2009. Call Me Colonel. New Orleans Food And Spirits, For Four. In the mailbox this morning was a large envelope from the Office of the Governor of Kentucky. Barrie Hiern--an Eat Club regular both for our dinners and cruises, and always full of surprises--told me that he'd put my name up as a potential Kentucky Colonel. That, after reading a report in this space about Dickie Brennan's having received that honor. I figured that this must be the application form. I'd send it back to them saying I had been of greatly insufficient service to the Commonwealth of Kentucky to deserve such an honor, and that there was no need to continue the vetting process. (What if they found out that I flunked out of Jesuit?) But when I opened the envelope, I discovered it was too late. I had already been named a Kentucky Colonel, and here was my certificate, an explanation of the history of the rank, and who else had been named over the years. Well! I will have a double shot of my best Kentucky Bourbon tonight in celebration of this new rung achieved.
The full Fitzmorris quartet went to lunch at New Orleans Food And Spirits in Covington. For once, Jude got lucky. Every time we've lunched here in the past, we were either a day early or a day late for the daily special that appeal to him most. At last, he was able to sample the panneed chicken with spaghetti and two sauces. He seemed to like it, but he didn't eat the entire hillock of food the way I would expect him to. He's having abdominal discomfort that goes away when he's busy. He's twenty years old, the age at which any physical ailment signals the beginning of the end. I keep telling him that hypochondria causes cramps. And to see the doctor so he can forget about it.
The food was good enough. A salad with grilled shrimp remoulade for MA, a hamburger for ML, and an oyster poor boy for me. All too generous and good enough that we entered a detailed study of how this place compares with the Acme. We decided the specials and the burger were much better, the salads about the same (not counting the Acme's matchless blue cheese iceberg wedge), and the fried oysters not quite as good. But who handles fried oysters (or any oysters) much better than the Acme?
The radio show was truncated by the Weasel Bowl or some such. Good enough excuse to air it from home. Afterwards, we made Mary Ann happy by assembling a meal from her cornucopia of leftovers, and sat around watching one episode of Frasier after another. Just like in the good old days. I was tempted to have some Kentucky Fried Chicken with my Kentucky Bourbon, but the KFC over here was recently torn down.
New Orleans Food & Spirits. Covington: 208 Lee Lane 985-875-0432. Seafood.
