Wednesday, February 8, 2012.
Goal! ML Says Impastato's.
With these words I reach a goal. For the first time since the weeks after Katrina, today's diary entry is about stuff that happened yesterday. For most of the past six years, these reports lagged a week to ten days behind reality. Although not a lot of the diary material is timely, a lot of readers have asked why it's not fresher. One is lucky when one knows what his customers want from one, because then all one has to do is give it to them. So there, are you satisfied now? Probably not!
A lot of readers have also told me I shouldn't be such a smartass.
Speaking of goals, my daughter Mary Leigh has picked up an unusual passion: hockey. She is involved in a fantasy hockey league, knows a few guys who play hockey (Tulane has a hockey team, did you know?), and watches every hockey game on television. She says that hockey players are the hottest-looking men in sports. I say, vive la difference!
When we arrived at dinner tonight, a table of six ladies spotted me and asked me to come over and say hello. I introduced ML, and one of them said, "Aren't you beautiful! I know all about you. You love hamburgers!"
When we sat down, Mary Leigh told me that she's about had it with all these total strangers who know all about her because they hear me talk about her on the radio, or read about her in this department. She has never enjoyed having attention drawn to her. But her complaints about my transgressions have become more strident lately. So, even though I am committing the offense again with these very words, I hereby announce that Mary Leigh's life will no longer be covered in this diary, save for passing mentions of meals we have together.
Dinner tonight, for example. She called me after the radio show to see if she and I could catch up on that birthday dinner we keep having to postpone. I told her that my birthday celebration for 2012 is now over. But I'd be happy to take her to dinner. Where? "You might think this is crazy, but what I want is Impastato's." Fine with me. Impastato's food is never far from my mind.
When we finally made our rendezvous (I thought I was supposed to pick her up at Tulane, and went there first), the restaurant was nearly full. Mr. Joe came over with his usual offer of a massive meal. She let him know that she would be totally pleased with a romaine and tomato salad, followed by a double order of fettuccine Alfredo and angel hair pasta asciutta--the end. I fell for the more extensive repast, starting with shrimp scampi, then (after the pasta) redfish Marianna (artichokes and mushrooms in a lemon butter). I did have the willpower to turn down dessert.
I walked my daughter to her car, then returned to the restaurant to sing a couple of songs for what proved to be two large tables and half the bar full of fans. The six ladies were especially pleased, but not as much as I was. I am a ham, no doubt about it. I wish it didn't make the Marys so uncomfortable, but I can only (and barely) live my own life.
Impastato's. Metairie: 3400 16th St. 504-455-1545.
It's over three years since a day was missed in the Dining Diary. To browse through all of the entries since 2008, go here.
