Wednesday, November 9, 2011.
Frosty. Barker's Corner. Margarita's Beautiful Party.
Frost on the grass this morning. The thermometer read thirty-one degrees--our first freeze of the season.
Mary Ann was driving around a couple of days ago and wandered into a spot where the fall colors were riotous. Along the way she saw a café in Barker's Corner that offered breakfast. She thought it would be fun if we went out to breakfast there, and we could pass the colorful patch en route.
Fall colors are fleeting, and Mary Ann said that they weren't quite as brilliant as they were a few days ago. They looked good to me, in this brilliant high-pressure morning. The ride through the countryside was pleasant, too.
Barker's Corner is on no map that I know of. But everybody between Covington and Bush know where it is. The junction of LA 437 and L A40--both minor country roads--has accumulated enough businesses to make one notice it as you pass through. The place Mary Ann had in mind only serves breakfast on weekends. The rest of the time, it's a sno-ball stand--although not on a morning like this.
Callers to the radio show had alerted me to another café in Barker's Corner called Lil' Tast'a Cajun. And there it was, serving a minimal breakfast, in what at one time had been the clubhouse for a rather small golf and country club. It was pleasant enough inside, and warm. The women working there were effusively friendly. I had scrambled eggs (a little crunchy on the bottom), bacon, and what amounted to brabant potatoes. The coffee came from serve-yourself thermoses on the sideboard. No milk or cream, just artificial creamer. You wouldn't come here for the food, at least not at breakfast, but the people and the place were charming enough that I will always remember it.
Oh, yeah--they have steak night once or twice a week. What rural restaurant doesn't?
I was on the list of speakers today for Margarita Bergen's Round Table Club at the Royal Sonesta. Margarita is a socialite--nobody I've ever known fits that description better. She's originally from the Dominican Republic and speaks with a charming Spanish accent. She knows everybody and calls them all "Darling!" Her Round Table has been gathering every month at the Sonesta for several years. I'd never been, but I knew all about it, because Margarita sends me photos and rundowns of what was said at each event.
I arrived a little late, but figured that they would serve the three-course luncheon and have the speakers afterwards. It was the other way around. But there were three speakers, plus Dennis Assaf, the director of the very active Jefferson Performing Arts Society. I had time to eat most of a minestrone soup made with Israeli couscous before I did my bit. Which wasn't much, as it turned out. Margarita has a very full program and she gave the speakers ten minutes each. I'm just warming up at ten minutes, but never mind. I was a minor attraction here. The major attractions were three handsome operatic singers with whom Dennis has worked with lately. Also there were The Hot Firemen, who appear in beefcake poses in a fundraising calendar that just came out.
Between the singers and the firemen, the mostly-female audience was whooping it up. Margarita kept trying to rein the hundred or so attendees in, but I think her efforts only encouraged more fun. It was pandemonium, interspersed with some very good singing, with playwright and composer Glynn Bailey playing the piano.
I had no idea this has evolved into such a big deal. I'll come to this again. Nor was the food bad. After the aforementioned soup came a redfish rolled up into what looked like a small cinnamon roll. It proved once again that something about rolled fish makes it tough and unpalatable. I have never seen an exception to this rule. I was asked to give my speech just as the fish landed before me. The waiter said he'd keep it warm. What he did was bring for an entirely new portion, with another carrot and a bigger piece of fish. The restaurant critic presentation. See photos above for comparison between what everybody else was served (top) and what I was served (bottom).
The chef insisted that I try the other entree option: a barbecued pork belly slab. It was pretty good, I guess. I remain apparently the only person in the world who doesn't like pork belly served in the current manner.
What with all that food and wine, I would not have a great show on the radio today. The wine did little harm to my wit, but I find that eating anything before going on the air makes it hard to speak smoothly. This is why I hardly ever eat lunch anymore. I was able to ameliorate the problem by konking out on the floor for a twenty-minute nap, but. . . well, come to think of it, the show was fairly busy with callers today. We lately have been running the Guess Where Tom Ate contest for a basket of Frere Jean's seasoning. And, as broadcasters discovered long ago, nothing grabs an audience like a contest.
Lil' Tast'a Cajun. Covington: 79144 Hwy 40 (Barker's Corner). 985-892-0410.
