Wednesday, March 27, 2012.
Getting Ready To Go Nowhere.
A couple of weeks ago Mary Ann and I hatched an idea to scratch a few minor itches. She needed a short getaway. Since the kids left home (Mary Leigh and The Boy flew to Baltimore to spend the Easter holidays with his parents yesterday), she travels about once a month to avoid melancholy. And this will be the first Easter in her life in which she would not be surrounded by family.
To give me an investment in her plan, she recalled my mentioning a bucket-list item. Someday, I want to say I have driven the entire length of US 90--originally known as the Old Spanish Trail. Already covered: every inch from New Orleans west to US90's terminus at Van Horn, Texas. And east to around Pensacola. "A classic Tom thing to do," sez MA.
Our plan was to leave tomorrow for Tallahassee, then drive Friday first to Jacksonville (where US 90 emerges from the Atlantic Ocean), then south to St. Augustine, the oldest city in the United States. MA always wanted to go there, and so did I.
On top of all that, she added an interview on a Jacksonville television station for herself and her book, Suzie Homemaker Chronicles. It sounded like a plan, with only one element missing: a place from which I can broadcast the show.
It used to be easy. I'd plug my Vector remote gadget into the data port on the side of the hotel room's telephone, and I was on the air. But phone companies are replacing copper wires with fiber optic cables and internet-related connections. My trusty equipment is not compatible with those technologies. It's too much to expect a high-tech device to avoid obsolescence after twenty years. But nothing has come along to replace the Vector. At least not for doing talk shows. The digital delay on voice-over-internet connections makes having a phone conversation on the air nearly impossible.
We spent the afternoon trying to find out whether the hotels in which Mary Ann allegedly (but not completely) made reservations still had the data ports. The one in Tallahassee did. The one in St. Augustine didn't. I told her that I'd check into a cheap hotel (that's where I'm most likely to find the wiring I need) just to do the show. She would not hear of it. (MA so hates hotels with fewer than four stars that she considers me infected if I so much as set foot in one.)
I stayed home to nurse this problem. We didn't go out for either lunch or dinner, like people awaiting disaster. As far as I knew, the plan was to leave at six in the morning, and figure out my electronic problems from the road.
Thursday, March 28, 2013.
Clipped Wings. Venezia's Revolution.
I would not be the one to call off our trip to St. Augustine, Florida. I was up and five and packed and ready to go at six. Mary Ann seemed to be much less insistent on going, even though my technological problem with getting the radio show on the air wasn't really hers. We checked with a few more hotels, but turned up nothing.
Around seven-thirty, Mary Ann called the producer of the Jacksonville television show on which she was scheduled to appear tomorrow and asked what kind of problem it would be if she didn't show up. "Not a biggie," said the producer. And that's when our trip to St. Augustine died, at least for now. I'm sure we'll try again another time.
I thought I'd better get out of sight. I went into town to do the radio show from the actual studio, and was told that the show would end an hour early because of yet another basketball game. Great! This gave me an opportunity to go to a restaurant where showing up before six is essential for getting a table without waiting.
It was a long time since I last sampled Venezia. Before the hurricane, I know. I have not been a fan of the Fifties-era pizzeria and Italian restaurant. Although Venezia's pizza--old style, thin crust--has always been beyond reproach, I found their red sauce too sweet and thick, and the seafood dishes overwhelmed by cream sauces. In this I seem to be in the minority. Most people who mention the place love it.
Venezia took in a depth of Katrina flood water to make its name ironic. The owners performed a Charlie renovation, named for Charlie's Steakhouse. Which, when it needed to rebuild after the storm, replaced almost everything. Despite that, Charlie's retains its pre-K non-decor. And even though Venezia rebuilt from the studs in, it looks exactly the same to me.
Although a mob of people stood around waiting for tables by the time I left, the place was mostly empty when I arrived. At the next table, a group of women was wrapping up a late lunch. Among them was Ginger, the current Red Head Lady of Louie and The, in Mandeville.
The perfect server for this place--a woman whose voice and movements alone identified here as a longtime pro--took care of my solo table. I began with fried eggplant sticks. Bigger than normal, right out of the fryer, non-greasy, and served with a very hot marinara sauce. These were so good that they inspired this week's top-twelve list, of the best too-hot-to-eat dishes.
Then a classic New Orleans Italian salad--what would have been called a "wop salad" by all Italian restaurateurs in the old days. Big, fresh, delicious.
The entree special was pan-seared drumfish with artichokes, mushrooms, green onions, crabmeat, and butter. A familiar local dish, one I like a good deal. It filled a big platter. (Venezia would be torched by its regulars if it served even a moderate portion, let alone a small one.) On the side was far too much fettuccine Alfredo. I paid the extra dollar to have it instead of spaghetti marinara. so I could taste something else important on this menu. The cream sauce was a shade too thick (I am spoiled by the Alfredo at Impastato's), but good anyway.
All of this was without major flaws. And dessert told me that this restaurant has upgraded itself far beyond what I would have thought possible. A slice of cheesecake, topped with a huge, sliced strawberry, was as fine and fresh a cheesecake as I've had. A maker of a mean cheesecake myself, I was much impressed, more by the restrained sweetness and marvelous texture. I don't know whether they make this on house or buy it, and don't care. This is the best cheesecake being served anywhere in New Orleans today.
Finding a mediocre restaurant transformed into an excellent eatery is more exciting to me than discovering a great new place. It proves that a restaurant can get rid of its bad habits and raise the bar. I can think of a lot of restaurants that could do with such a transformation.
Venezia. Mid-City: 134 N Carrollton Ave. 504-488-7991.
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