Wednesday, May 15, 2013.
Big Wine At Atchafalaya.
Mary Leigh flew to the arms of The Boy yesterday. Literally flew: she met him at his home in Baltimore, where he went last week after his term at Loyola ended for the year. I guess they couldn't remain apart as long as they thought.
ML was on the phone this morning with an urgent message. A man she didn't know called her, after he called the Humane Society about a stray dog. They said that there was a report of a missing German Shepherd, and gave him the phone number on a lost dog notice they'd seen.
Mary Ann quickly followed all these leads and was soon at the home of the man. Inside his big fenced yard were a large, beautiful Golden Retriever, an equally well-groomed Doberman, and--a bit ragged by comparison--the dog Steel. Who has been missing from our house for ten days.
All would have been well right then and there. But Mary Ann explained to the man how Steel wasn't really ours, but belonged to an often-away Army corporal next door who, having been told about his missing dog, shrugged his shoulders and said something like, "That's the way it goes, I guess."
The man said that if we didn't want the dog, he would be happy to have Steel. He said his daughter liked Steel a lot. Complicating matters further was the problem Steel has been causing for our old dog Susie, who wasn't happy about the competition.
What will happen to Steel? Tune in tomorrow for the continuing saga.
Dr. Bob DeBellevue called a few days ago with news that there was an open chair at his wine club's dinner tonight at Atchafalaya. Two weeks in a row I was allowed to attend. And I'm nor even a doctor, as most of these guys are.
Better still, we would get a sampling of Christopher Lynch's cooking. He was executive chef at Emeril's for a few years, but left to open the ill-starred Meson 656 (or whatever that number was). That didn't last long, and if he was cooking elsewhere I wasn't aware of it.
Atchafalaya, like all the half-dozen restaurants before it on the corner of Louisiana and Laurel--operates in a well-worn but interesting, old space with some odd corners. The group of a dozen wineheads was in a room barely big enough to hold us. But nobody cares much about that these days, and everybody looked forward to the usual overgenerous wine dose. The theme was Cabernet Sauvignon.
I will jump to the finish about the wines. Everybody agreed it had been awhile since such a high level of excellence was tasted, without a single deficient. Lots of Australian bottles.
The club even liked my wine, although I had my fingers crossed. It had a good pedigree--Heitz Cellars Martha's Vineyard, 1991. But my storage conditions are not great, and even a wine with that strength might not have made it. The cork broke, but not in a disastrous way. And the wine was a little over the hill, but that could be because the other wines were ten or more years younger, and mine came at the end of the evening.
Of the food there were do doubts. After an delicious amuse of a giant fried oyster in what resembled a liquefied version of Rockefeller sauce, we entered a two-course dinner that revealed no flaws. At least not at my end of the table. The most-liked starters were a seared scallop salad, a charcuterie board, a soup of ginger and carrots, and a fried green tomato slice with crabmeat remoulade.
The entrees were better paired with the monstrous Cabernets that came uncorked every ten minutes or so. But it didn't appear that anyone was paying much attention to that issue. Truth be told, only a few entrees were suitable for wine like these.
I got one of them. The waiter said that if someone didn't order the Prime, oversize filet, it would be a missed opportunity. So I did, even though a steak was the last thing I had in mind when I sat down. It was as fine as advertised, broiled as I asked, and served with a veal demi-glace.
Elsewhere, good things were being said about the grilled fish, the chicken (had that last time I was here), and the pork chop.
I don't think anyone had dessert. I sure couldn't. The check was under $50. We stole this dinner. We tipped very heavily.
I'm not sure, but I think I may have offended one of the women there when I told why I think growing old is a good thing for men. We learn to love older women, but continue to find younger women attractive, making for a growing population of women we like every day. What's wrong with that?
Atchafalaya. Uptown: 901 Louisiana Ave. 504-891-9626.
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