Wednesday, March 6, 2013.
Up And Down The River, Part 5. St. Francisville's Oyster Bar. Red Stick.
The Queen of the Mississippi began its return trip from Vicksburg to New Orleans yesterday afternoon as the sun went down. We're literally going with the flow now, and the miles clicked away more rapidly than on the way upstream. The river looks a little on the low side, but the current makes a difference for the boats floating on it.
But it seemed to me that our boat made very good time upstream for a sternwheeler. I knew from looking over the railing that other engines with standard propellers also move this vessel, with perhaps more force than the sternwheel's paddles brought to the task.
It took eighteen hours of thrust all night long to get from Vicksburg to St. Francisville by lunchtime. That opened up a spot on the schedule for my cooking demonstration. It was a little daunting. My usual portable equipment was not allowed. No open flames on the boat--a good rule. Even the main kitchen had to get along on electric appliances. And I wasn't sure whether they'd confiscate my knives at boarding.
But Mary Ann found a good substitute for my butane stove. Right there in our home pantry was a large, square electric frying pan. It was made by Hoover, of all companies. I bought it for $40 in response to a flier inside my Texaco bill in 1972, when I found myself living in an apartment with no kitchen. (It didn't matter much, because was already eating almost every meal in restaurants.) I've carried that pan around with me ever since, but used it only four or five times.
It proved ideal for my needs today. In addition to the seared of beef I required, the pan has a little warming drawer underneath. It proved to be the perfect apparatus for melting the chocolate I needed to make chocolate mousse.
The boat's chef--a quiet but very agreeable, helpful, big man-- allowed me to get in his way in the main kitchen so I could boil some shrimp. In fact, he said he'd just go ahead and do it for me, if only to get me out of the line while he and the other cooks were prepping lunch.
With that job done, the demo went well. I made remoulade sauce, and gave my long speech about the different ingredients and methods one can use for that greatest of cold Creole appetizers. Mary Ann--my sous chef--sliced some grape tomatoes to garnish the shrimp remoulade as we passed it around.
I fired the Hoover up to 425 degrees and seared some thin slices of prime beef tenderloin. Took it out, deglazed the pan with bourbon and vermouth. Added cream and peppercorns. Reduced it to a sauce. Added the beef back, then passed it around on toothpicks. It's not an especially Creole dish, but at the moment it answers the most often-asked cooking question on my radio show: how does one cook steak with some artfulness?
That done, I did three stages of beating. First egg yolks, vanilla, and a little coffee. In a second bowl, the egg whites got the whisk, and went into the first bowl, followed by the molten semi-sweet chocolate. Bowl Three was for whipping cream, which we folded into the other stuff. (Without benefit of a rubber spatula or wooden spoon, which I'd forgotten.) I did all this beating by hand, filling the time with jokes and half of a Sinatra song. Anything to engage the audience, many of whose members are beyond the age when they want to learn anything new about cooking.
Mary Ann didn't like the looks of the mousse as she blended it. O she of little faith. It came out perfect, if you like a very chocolatey mousse. Which she does.
By this time the cruise director was hurrying me up. With the help of a passenger who liked to talk with me, we cleaned up as best we could, and everybody adjourned to lunch.
We were in St. Francisville by then. The boat was tied up at what used to be the ferry landing for the river crossing to New Roads. A large bridge downstream made that obsolete. I've been to St. Francisville enough time not to need another look. Aside from the ferry replacement, not much has changed lately. And I had my newsletter to write. Getting ready for the cooking demo had taken most of my morning.
Mary Ann never stays on a docked boat, and she was one of the first to go down the gangway. She took a tour bus to the center of the little old town and walked around for an hour or two. She came back with news of an oyster bar within easy walking distance from the boat. It seemed unlikely, with not much else around. But it was a lovely day, and we strolled over. In contrast, the Oyster Bar looked stark, with added darkness inside, where three people sat at the bar, drinking and smoking.
"Where's the oyster bar?" I asked.
"You're in it," said one of the customers.
"Great! Where are the oysters?"
The trio laughed. "We haven't served food here in thirty years," one of them said.
"But you have a big sign outside that says 'Oyster Bar,'" I insisted.
They laughed again. "That's just the name of the place!"
We left around five for Baton Rouge, not far downriver. The five-thirty cocktail party continued its serving of surprisingly good hors d'oeuvres. Crab cakes tonight, among other things. More people than usual came over to talk with me, now that I'd proved my mettle with the cooking demo.
Then another fine dinner. Shrimp bisque and a chopped salad with some offbeat greens and vegetables. A very fine seared duck breast (the whole thing, which was a lot of food), with raspberry duck demi-glace and dried fruits. Orange sour cream cake. The same generic house wines as always, but not bad: a choice of Pinot Grigio, Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Noir, Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon was available in limitless quantities every night, no extra charge.
The entertainment tonight was provided by Judy Whitney-Davis, the tour guide from the Houmas House. Her presentation was a mix of storytelling, anecdotes, jokes, preaching, irony, and a capella singing. This was the third time we've seen Judy perform during the past month, in three different venues. (The first was at a Mardi Gras party at Houmas House owner Kevin Kelly's house; the second was three days ago at Houmas House, on this very trip.) She was terrific every time, but tonight she was in exceptionally fine voice, starting every song right on key and staying there, with power and passion. The passengers talked about it for the rest of the trip. What a voice! What a style!
Mary Ann and I had the same thought about Judy. She has what it takes to be a major star. Certainly more talented than a lot of other people who've made it big. To me, it all comes down to that vexing matter we are told to ignore. The breaks, or lack of them.
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