Gumbo Shop
The Gumbo Shop’s Reveillon has a strong following among locals, who keep it so busy this time of year that a wait for a table (they don’t take reservations) is inevitable. Part of this owes to the perennially lowest price in the Reveillon field. The menu never changes, because the regulars won’t hear of it. Lagniappe: cafe brulot at the end of the repast.
Four courses, $34.
Oyster and Artichoke Soup
~or~
Chicken Andouille Gumbo
~or~
Turtle Soup
~~~~~
Tossed Green Salad
Toasted pecan vinaigrette
~~~~~
Catfish St. Peter
~or~
Crawfish Étouffée over Rice
~or~
Crab Cakes
Green peppercorn and crawfish sauce
~or~
»Roasted Half Duckling
Local rum and Louisiana citrus sauce
~~~~~
Homemade Pecan Pie
~or~
Chocolate Cheesecake
Raspberry liqueur sauce
~or~
Hot Bread Pudding
Whiskey sauce
»Café Brûlot
French Quarter: 630 St Peter. 504-525-1486.
FULL REVIEW
All the Reveillon menus can be perused here. We’ll feature one every day throughout the Reveillon season, which runs in most of the Reveillon restaurants until December 31.The snowflake ratings are for the Reveillon menu, not the restaurant in general. Dishes marked with the snowflake symbol ✽ are my recommendations.
Wednesday, December 16, 2015.
The Eat Club Gala Returns Again.
I forgot that we arranged this on purpose, but today is exactly a year since last year’s Eat Club Gala at Brennan’s. That would be no big deal if everything had been normal. But the 2014 dinner was our return to Brennan’s after three years elsewhere. Those three years were evidence that Brennan’s was in trouble. By the end of them the restaurant had new owners, an expensive and magnificent restoration, a new chef, a new menu. . . really, everything about the revived Brennan’s was the stuff of a brand-new restaurant
And there we were last year, in a new private room on the second floor, eating dishes with the old names but new formulations. Brennan’s had, in fact, just reopened. The Eat Club was among the first groups in the place. We were the only diners in there that night, because Brennan’s wasn’t yet open every day. It felt a little stiff, but we expected that. The excitement of returning to the restaurant after it was closed for a year almost made up for that.
Last year’s Eat Club holiday gala in the Pineapple Room at Brennan’s.
So here we are, a year later. Same room. Same chef. Many of the same servers. The menu is similar to last year’s. Many of tonight’s Eat Clubbers were here last year, too. So we get a good reading of the progress Brennan’s made in its new era. In brief, the restaurant is much less self-conscious than it was last year. With little experience, last year’s service team defaulted to following the rules when in doubt, and it made the place seem a little unfriendly. Nothing could be done about that: hiring 125 experienced servers at the same time is not something any New Orleans restaurant could pull off. This evening the servers were much more cordial, smiled more and said yes to most off-beam requests.
Brennan’s executive chef Slade Rushing.
The direction of the kitchen is interesting. The highly innovative executive chef Slade Rushing hews to traditional lines with his cooking, even as he sprinkles the menu liberally with new dishes.
The first course is a good example. In its soul it’s crabmeat au gratin. But the chef added finely-chopped cauliflower and a bread crumb topping to the generous crabmeat component. If I were doing this, I think I would have pureed the cauliflower, but Slade’s version was at least as good, and we learn that crabmeat and cauliflower are good partners.
Then comes a salad of bibb lettuce, leaves almost as big as the plates. These leaves are soft and good, and topped with shrimp and hearts of palm soaked in a citrus vinaigrette. At the bottom of the stack is a thick green sauce whose components I never found out, but it was so good that I wiped it up (and out) with French bread.
Which reminds me: Brennan’s has the classic hot French bread that all restaurants like this used to serve.
Next, we get a single egg Sardou, the most popular entree on Brennan’s famous breakfast menu. Poached egg, creamed spinach, hollandaise. It fits perfectly at this point in the dinner.
Course four of the six is a pretty, toasted slab of Gulf grouper. Don’t know exactly what kind, but it lacked the toughness I often find in that species. They say it’s cooked amandine style, but this is really different from the local classic. Marconi almonds–smaller and more interesting than the usual slivered kind–are in a lemon butter with thin French green beans around the sides.
That will be called the best dish of the night by many of us, but I think the next item was better. It’s an old Brennan classic called steak Stanley. The pre-meltdown version of the dish had a big filet napped with marchand de vin sauce with mushrooms, and then covered with a creamy horseradish sauce. On the side were two quarters of broiled bananas, creating the best damn steak ‘n’ bananas in town. Slade reworked the dish such that the old red wine sauce is now a demi-glace with truffles. The horseradish is not visible, but it can indeed be tasted, with a sharp, spicy sauce and a slight sweetness. Sweet heat! Always great.
And here’s something odd. As usual, I am writing this a few days after the day of the action described. Last night in Diary Time, I had yet another version of steak Stanley at Commander’s Palace. I will report on that when we get to Saturday’s report.
Getting back to the Eat Club Gala, we end the dinner with the only disappointment of the evening. The dessert was bananas Foster, whose absence in last year’s dinner brought about some grumbling. This time we did have Brennan’s most famous dish (it’s also a worldwide dessert hit, and genuinely terrific). But they didn’t flame it in the dining room. This may have owed to the long, narrow configuration of the dining room, but I have seen the restaurant perform the acts in a room this size. Well, we’re getting closer.
As long as I’m complaining. . . for some reason, the printed menu for our dinner left out the identities of the wines. And we drank some rather unusual juice, at that. I promised a number of Eat Clubbers that I would publish the wine roll call here:
Val de Mer “Non Dose” Cremant de Bourgogne NV (a very dry sparkler)
Emmerich Knoll Gruner Veltliner Federspiel 2013 (great with the egg Sardou)
Txomin Etxaniz Getriako Txakolina 2014 (a mouthful of a Spanish wine, and I’m not just talking about the name)
Frederich Magnien Bourgogne Blanc 2009
Chateau Tour Bayard Montagne St Emilion 2010 (the biggest wine of the night)
El Maestro Sierra Pedro Ximenez (a beautiful sweet sherry, great with the bananas Foster)
The dinner wrapped up, Vic and Barbara Giancola asked whether I was up for a nightcap. That has been a tradition of ours that was solidified in the several cruises in which the Giancolas have joined us. We had already shut down the bar at Brennan’s, so we crossed the street to the Rib Room’s bar. There we had an accommodating bartender who was eager to put some energy into his mixology. He also was nice enough to validate my parking in the hotel. It wasn’t until after eleven that we finally ended the celebration. We will return here next year, by popular demand. At least ten of our diners said that this was the best Eat Club event ever. That is typical of our Galas.
Oh, by the way: of the eighteen men in attendance, only three showed up without tuxedos. And even they all wore jackets and ties. If there is any place where dressing up for dinner will remain inviolate, it’s the Eat Club Gala.
Brennan’s. French Quarter: 417 Royal. 504-525-9711.
Thursday, December 17, 2015.
Saul’s Favorite Egg Dish.
If I work at home the day after an Eat Club, I can push all my daily deadlines forward an hour and a half, since I don’t have to make the commute. That also lets me sleep an hour later. I didn’t get home from last night’s Eat Club until after midnight. I think I’ll plug that schedule in from now on.
At lunchtime, I call Mary Ann and find out that she is at La Carreta with the lady who lives across the street, and who takes care of our pets while we’re gone. She also has yard eggs from her many chickens. Good person to know.
I am mildly miffed that MA didn’t tell me of these plans, but she says I should come join them, at what she says is “my favorite La Carreta.” She is incorrect in thinking that I prefer the one in Covington to the restaurant in Mandeville. The Covington place had molé poblano for awhile, but no more. The Mandeville branch has a superior recipe for the house’s bean soup, of which I get not a cup but a bowl every time I go. So I wind up wasting eight miles going from one to another.
The girls are nearly finished when I finally arrive, but they stay on for awhile in order to make fun of me. I’ll take any kind of attention I can get.
The Covington La Carreta has a new menu. On it I find “Saul’s Favorite.” Saul (pronounced “sah-OOL,” the Mexican way) is Saul Rubio, one of the owners of the La Carretas. One glance at the contents of Saul’s Favorite tells me that this is a serious Mexican dish. Its centerpiece is eggs, for one thing. Eggs are much more commonly eaten in Mexico at lunch and dinner than they are here. We have two cheese and green chile enchiladas, topped by two poached eggs, which are in turn covered with thin avocado slices. This is served with thinly-sliced skirt steak from the grill. I could have done without the beef, so good was the egg concoction. I’ll bet it really is Saul’s favorite, not just a copy line. The dish will suffice for my eating needs the rest of the day.
Back home, I catch a little longer nap than usual (to erase the last effects of the Eat Club Gala last night) and roll with the radio show. It is very busy, largely with requests for discussion of prime rib, a classic Christmas dinner item.
After the show, Mary Ann and I head over to Red’s to buy our Christmas tree. MA says that she could get by without a tree, and could even forgo Christmas altogether, since the kids are gone to their new lives. They will not be coming home for the holidays.
But, I tell her, I was twenty years old and living alone when I put up my first Christmas tree, and I did so every single single year until we married. When, of course, Christmas became essential. I’ll know that my life has changed profoundly when I fail to pull out my bubble lights and decorate yet another Tannenbaum.
This is tree number forty-four for me. And it’s our twenty-sixth Christmas at the Cool Water Ranch. I’ve lost track of how many trees we’ve bought at Red’s Christmas tree lot on Claiborne Hill in Covington. It’s at least eighteen, because as soon as Mary Leigh was old enough to have opinions–when she was about four–she has held the job of ultimate selector of Christmas trees. She has a studied, consistent eye. A tree must be full and shapely, but it must also have a serious defect, enough to make us feel a little sorry for the tree. But she and Dave have their own apartment now in Virginia. But we follow her standards. The tree we buy has a split in the trunk about halfway up, which creates a big empty spot. This raises MA’s sympathy. It also makes her ask for a steep discount from the manager. She gets it knocked down to $50 from a tag of $75.
I will keep going to Red’s mainly for the little free candy canes they give out in the office. It feels right, because it’s cold and a bit squishy from recent rains. It’s been about five years since we last saw Red himself, but I hear he’s still at it.
La Carreta. Mandeville: 1200 W Causeway Approach. 985-624-2990.
La Carreta. Covington: 812 US 190. 985-400-5202.
Creamed Spinach
This is an old American classic, found not only in the venerable establishments like Antoine’s and Galatoire’s, but also in the new breed of steakhouses that have popped around town. The funny thing about creamed spinach is that it contains no cream. Also no cheese, although if you want to sprinkle some of it with bread crumbs on top and bake it as a casserole, you will find a doubling in the number of compliments from eaters.
This stuff is also essential for all dishes Florentine or Sardou.
Eggs Sardou, with creamed spinach underneath.
3 10-oz. bags fresh spinach
4 Tbs. butter
4 Tbs. flour
1 1/2 cups milk, warmed
1/4 tsp. salt
Pinch nutmeg
Generous pinch white pepper
1. Pick the stems off the spinach, and wash it in enough changes of water that no dirt can be seen.
2. Put the dripping-wet spinach into a saucepan over medium-low heat. Cover the pot and cook until the spinach has wilted completely (about six to eight minutes). If you have a steamer, that’s an even better way to cook the spinach.
3. Remove the spinach to a sieve or colander with small holes. With a spoon, press out the excess water. Place the ball of spinach on a cutting board and chop finely.
4. Rinse and wipe out the saucepan. Over medium-low heat, melt the butter and add the flour. Make a blond roux, stirring constantly. Before the first hint of browning, remove from the heat and add the milk.
5. Whisk the milk into the roux to make what looks like runny mashed potatoes. Add the salt, nutmeg, pepper, and spinach. Stir until completely blended.
Serves eight to twelve.
Seafood Platter @ Bourbon House
Most of the menu at Dickie Brennan’s seafood house flies higher than fried seafood, but their West End-style seafood platter is among the better ones around. The oysters, shrimp, and catfish are large, golden brown, hot, fresh, fried to order, and seasoned nicely. Also here are fried crab fingers. A stuffed crab or soft-shell crab can be added for a supplement.
Fried catfish, one of the four items on the seafood platter at the Bourbon House.
Bourbon House. French Quarter: 144 Bourbon. 504-522-0111.
This is among the 500 best dishes in New Orleans area restaurants. Click here for a list of the other 499.
December 21, 2015
Days Until. . .
Christmas–4
New Year’s Eve–11
Looking Up
The winter solstice occurs at 10:48 p.m. New Orleans time. Today’s daylight is the shortest of the year, with the sun lowest in the sky. “Solstice” comes from Latin words meaning “sun stands still,” which it apparently does. For the past few days and the next few, the points at which the sun rises and sets on the horizon hardly vary at all. That is obvious to me as I drive south-southeast across the lake. The sun was almost directly in my eyes, which is odd. The winter solstice is a cheery day for us here in the Northern Hemisphere, because it means summer is on its way back.
The Old Kitchen Sage Sez:
Bacon fried at the exact moment of the solstice will neither shrink nor curl, but instead lie flat. Unless you’ve bought really cheap bacon. Or unless your name is Bacon (see below), in which case no bacon should be eaten on this day.
Gourmet Gazetteer
Refrigerator Creek is in the Cascade Range in west central Oregon. It’s in Deschutes National Forest, where a great deal of lumbering goes on. The creek’s source is a series of lakes in the mountains at about 5400 feet. It drops about 700 feet in eight miles (passing under the northernmost main line of the former Southern Pacific Railroad en route) to empty into Big Marsh Creek. All this water winds up in the Columbia. This is a great area for camping, and the Boy Scouts have a reservation nearby. Not so good for dining. The nearest restaurant is twelve miles away in Crescent: the Mohawk.
Today’s Flavor
Today is National Hamburger Day, says someone, somewhere, who probably had a space to fill on a calendar. Of course, every day in America is National Hamburger Day. If you consider how many restaurants serve the things as a main menu item, then note how many dishes are variations on hamburger (meat loaf, meatballs, kafta kebabs, chopped steak, on and on), the astonishing appeal of ground beef is revealed. Just under nine billion of them are sold every year in this country, two-thirds of them in restaurants. So they break up the home. Hamburgers account for about forty percent of all sandwiches sold. But what person in his right mind wouldn’t prefer a roast beef poor boy, or an oyster loaf, or a muffuletta? Or a gyros or a deli corned beef on rye? Beware the hamburger’s strong pull on your appetite. Resist it and improve your eating.
It is National Absinthe Day. Absinthe is a highly alcoholic liqueur, very popular in France in the 1800s. In the early 1900s, it was banned there and here, too. Its flavor is dominated by herbs in the anise family of flavors. If you drink Herbsaint or Pernod (both of which were created as absinthe substitutes), you get an idea of what absinthe was like. One of components of absinthe was wormwood. Despite its evil-sounding name, it’s a green herb. It carries a toxin that was alleged to be the reason for absinthe’s illegality. However, none of that toxin comes through the distillation of well-made absinthe. The real reason for the ban was that an anti-alcohol movement was underway in the early 1900s, and the popularity of absinthe made it a target. Absinthe is making a strong comeback in recent years, and its fans are overzealous about it. They’ve even revived the elaborate ritual for sweetening the stuff, involving the use of special perforated, flat spoons for the sugar to rest on.
Edible Dictionary
birch beer, n.–A variation on root beer, created in the 1880s as a competitor to the new and highly successful Hires Root Beer. It genuinely does use birch bark and sap as one of its flavoring ingredients, along with herbs and vanilla. It has a lighter flavor and color than root beer. Some varieties of birch beer are very pale or even colorless. It’s more popular in the Northeast and into Canada, but birch beer was common in New Orleans in the 1950s through the 1980s because it was the primary fizzy beverage sold by Royal Castle, a chain of hamburger restaurants. Royal Castle is still in existence in its hometown of Miami.
Restaurant Anniversaries
The first Morton’s Steakhouse opened in Chicago today in 1978. Owners Arnie Morton and Klaus Fritsch. It is a classic expense-account restaurant, catering to business travelers. Morton’s is all over America, so a guy (it’s mostly men who go there) in a strange town will find it comfortably familiar. The prices are at the top end of the spectrum, and the menu is primarily beef, with the standard steakhouse alternatives. In 2012, Morton’s was bought by the large, Houston-based chain-restaurant operator Landry’s
The Saints
Today is the feast day of St. Baudacarius, a Benedictine monk who tended the grapevines and kitchens at his monastery in seventh-century Bobbio, Italy. A legend about him is that he once ran out of food, and after praying for divine assistance he was able to feed thirty monks with a single duck.
Annals Of Brewing
This is the day the Pilgrims debarked from the Mayflower in what is now Plymouth, Massachusetts. The year was 1620, and the ship had been at sea for sixty-three days. The crew didn’t have enough beer to last all the way to Virginia and then back to England, so they unloaded the Pilgrims to lighten the pressure on the lager. (This is not a joke.)
Food Namesakes
Ray Romano, whom everybody loves, was born today in 1957. . . Francis Thomas Bacon, who developed the first fuel cells, was born today in 1904. Fuel cells, which may power the next generation of automobiles, make electricity and water at the same time. . . Kristi Cooke, Miss Ohio in 1991, was born today in 1967. . . David Nathaniel Baker, a classical composer and cellist, joined us today in 1931. . . Another classical composer, Edward Everett Rice, came into the world today in 1848.
People For Whom No Dish Will Ever Be Named
Today is the birthday, in 1879, of Josef Stalin. Whose real name, Iosif Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili, is even less likely to be honored with something delicious.
Words To Eat By
“Dinner at the Huntercombes’ possessed only two dramatic features–the wine was a farce, and the food a tragedy.” —Anthony Powell, British writer, born today in 1905.
Words To Drink By
“There is only one absinthe drinker, and that’s the man who painted this idiotic picture.”–Thomas Couture, whose birthday it is today (1815). He was talking about Manet’s painting “Absinthe Drinker.”
Food As Weapon.
The soup du jour needs to be skimmed first before the gland flaming presentation can begin.
Click here for the cartoon.