Wednesday, July 28, 2010. Off To The Mansion. In The Rain. Pain in my left foot woke me at three-thirty. I recognized it immediately: the gout. It's been coming on for a week. I wishfully thought it was just the arthritis I've had in my left big toe since I was twenty-five. But this was attention-getting pain, and it kept me awake for hours.
I got back to sleep, but not for long. Mary Ann woke me at eight thirty-two. The Dallas television producer she thought was angry with us for canceling on her for tomorrow called back, seemed friendly, and wanted to know if there were any way we could show up after all. Mary Ann suggested strongly that I should do it. Especially since we have a paid-for (by us, nonrefundably) room at the Mansion on Turtle Creek tonight.
If we went to Dallas, many problems would erupt. There was the radio show to cover. The 520-mile trip to Dallas, in what was forecast to be heavy rain most of the way, required us to leave right away. And we were totally unprepared.
Mary Ann insisted that we could address all those issues en route. She had me at a weak moment. We hit the road at a little after ten.
By the time we were in Baton Rouge, she'd already awakened Chef Duke Locicero and had him agree to guest-host the radio show today. But what about the live commercials? I am required to record them any time I leave, but I didn't think we were leaving, so I didn't. If we miss a dozen or so spots, the sales guys will (rightly) go ballistic.
"I have a solution!" said Mary Ann. Uh-oh. "Just call in with the spots on your cellphone from the road. I think people would think that was cool." She left it to me to worry about what would happen if we lost the cell signal.
We stopped for lunch in Carencro, at Prejean's. I haven't been there in years. It didn't seem like the same restaurant I remember. It was always big and touristy, but had some very ambitious cooking on the menu. Now its offerings are reminiscent of Ralph and Kacoo's. Maybe even Don's. Why do respectable single-location originals feel they have to act like chains?
We started with boudin balls, a generous serving of six with a sweet, light mayonnaise-like sauce. These were not bad, but they didn't taste like boudin to me. More like just-plain rice balls. After a salad, Mary Ann had a platter of fried catfish that she found had an odd texture to her. I tried one and found them soggy, as if they'd paused a good while somewhere on the way from the kitchen to the table.
I fared better with a bowl of duck-andouille gumbo. Dark, dark roux, loaded with both meaty elements, good and spicy. The bowl was way too much for me to finish. Just as well. Mary Ann was agitating to get back on the road. And andouille was probably not the smartest thing for me to eat during a gout flare-up.
It's a good thing we ate there. I-49 is a relatively new highway, and not a lot of services have developed at its interchanges. Nor does the highway pass through even a small city in the long stretch between Alexandria and Shreveport. It's a nice road, though, running diagonally like a sash on the chest of Louisiana. Every ten minutes or so, I called in to the radio show, did a commercial, schmoozed with Duke for a few minutes, and disconnected. A good idea, but not one I can use often.
The clouds clotted up as we skirted around the southwest corner of Shreveport. It was raining convincingly as we crossed into Texas. Last time we came this way--almost two years ago, as we ran from Hurricane Gustav--we encountered a long backup of traffic out in the middle of nowhere. What were the chances that it would happen again? Apparently a hundred percent. For some twenty miles, it was crunch-and-bunch in an intermittent rain. The delay deranged Mary Ann's mind. (She was driving, of course.) On her iPhone, she pulled up a GPS app that showed us exactly where we were, how slowly we were moving, and how much longer the backup (caused by road work) would continue. I'm not sure whether knowing all that was a plus or a minus.
MA and I agree that East Texas is something to be passed through as quickly as possible. It's too much like where we live. We gritted our teeth, and after a couple more hours the trees thinned out into the relative prairie that surrounds Dallas. After a little trouble finding the hotel, we thought it would be a good idea to go to the grocery store for the food I would cook on television tomorrow. We got lost looking for that, too.
Mary Ann brightened up when we finally opened the door to the room at the Mansion on Turtle Creek. It was all she ever dreamed of. The bathroom was especially spectacular. A view of the whole city was outside the big window. She could have all of it. I needed a nap.
I fell into a very deep sleep. After more than an hour, Mary Ann called from the restaurant. "They're about to close," she said. "If you want to eat, you have to do it now!"
I dressed up and came down. She was sitting in the bar with a cocktail and some nibbles. The staff was extraordinarily cordial and said nothing about closing. The restaurant at the Mansion on Turtle Creek predates the hotel. It began as the expansive home of cotton baron Sheppard W. King, built originally in 1908. The restaurant, under chef Dean Fearing, became one of the leaders of the new Southwest culinary movement in the 1980s. Fearing has moved on, but the mansion is still considered one of the top venues for fine dining in what Dallasites call "the metroplex."
I looked over the menu, and did it again. My only thought was that I can get all of this stuff in the trendy restaurants back home. Maybe this could be blamed on my pooped state of mind and body. I couldn't work up a bit of enthusiasm about dinner. Mary Ann felt the same way about the menu, and said that although it would be a shame I didn't dine here, she was okay with giving it up.
We returned to the luxurious room. The bathroom had an enormous bathtub. I filled it with very warm water and soaked in it for an hour. This, I've learned, quiets my left big toe when it's yelling at me.
And then we went to bed. We have no idea what time we're supposed to be at the television station tomorrow, but I'll bet it's early.
Prejean's. 3480 NE Evangeline Thruway, Lafayette. 337-896-3247.
Mansion On Turtle Creek. 2821 Turtle Creek Blvd., Dallas. 214-559-2100.
