Tuesday, November 11, 2014.
Dinner At Luke With A Possible Protégée.
My efforts to find writers to review the rising tide of local restaurants–it is long since I admitted that I can’t do it alone–have not been very successful. But lately three people who were unaware that I was looking just sort of turned up. One of them is already writing for a number of publications here and elsewhere, and I commissioned her to write one for us. Daniel Lelchuk (who goes by the soubriquet “The Gourmet Cellist” on the radio show; he really does play in the Louisiana Philharmonic) is also interested in writing some reviews. He certainly is cosmopolitan enough to handle the task.
And last week I had a letter from a professor in Journalism at Loyola, telling me of a student of his who is enthusiastic about reporting and restaurants. He asked whether the young man could meet with me to discover how one goes about writing about dining.
I easily and vividly recall the moment when first I was fired up about that prospect. It was the summer of 1970, and the New Orleans Underground Gourmet–the first critical guide to New Orleans dining–had just appeared. I didn’t know how lucky I was in having already hit on the best way to start in a desirable career (or a middling or even bad career): you just start doing it, for free if necessary.
Jack Vanchiere meets me at the radio station. He is wearing jacket and tie. Good start! En route to dinner at Luke, Jack brings up a number of culinary topics, some rather abstruse. This is the first time in decades I heard someone talk about a coulibiac–an elegant French-Russian fish dish wrapped in pastry. I ask his age: nineteen. Same as I was when I got the calling.
I illustrate the fallibility of restaurant critics by finding that we must wait for a table until the pitiless hostess calls for us, and that the sound level in the restaurant is a bit loud for easy conversation. I could have picked a better place by just going to the next restaurant we came to, no matter what it was. I ask Jack if he’d like to have a drink while we’re waiting. The words are barely out of my mouth when I realize he’s not of legal age–a handicap I didn’t have when I was nineteen.
We get a terrible table in the middle of traffic. Jack gets some oysters with a persillade baked over the bivalves in their shells, and a crabmeat bisque. I have tuna nicoise served like a bruschetta. The bread part is grilled to a dry darkness so firm that I can’t take a bite out of it without sawing off pieces first. Then the lamb ragout, which sounded interesting. But the kitchen has some confusion as to the meaning of “ragout.” The word has always denoted to me a fine, rich stew of meat and vegetables. What I get is a plate of bucatini pasta in what I would call a bolognese sauce, or a ragu. The Italian “ragu” derives from the French “ragout,” or perhaps vice-versa. Depends on what book you’re reading. They’re pronounced identically.
So, I am disappointed that I didn’t have a French ragout. On the other hand, I can’t say that this Italian ragu was less than delicious. So it just comes down to expectations.
While all this is going on, Jack tells me that he is from Lake Charles, where his father ran two restaurants. He used to work at Chateau Margaux, almost certainly the all-time finest restaurant in Lake Charles dining history. So Jack has a jump on me. Nobody in my family ever dined in restaurants, let alone worked in them.
By the end of the evening, it’s clear that Jack is as knowledgeable as he is enthusiastic, and that he is skilled in journalistic writing. He is eager to take on a review assignment. One of those casual neighborhood places in the Bywater, he suggests. Great! He’ll do a better job with that than I will.
This could be the beginning of a new era for the New Orleans Menu, which has never contained a voice other than my own and the occasional pieces Mary Ann writes. The last obstacle is figuring out how to handle expenses, something I know nothing about. Through 42 years of writing reviews, I was never once reimbursed for what I spent researching the restaurants. I don’t accept free meals, and I’ve never had an expense account. But I can’t ask that of anyone willing to write for us. Dilemma.
Lüke. CBD: 333 St Charles Ave. 504-378-2840.
Orleans Grapevine
French Quarter: 720 Orleans. 504-523-1930. Map.
Casual.
AE DC DS MC V
Website
ANECDOTES AND ANALYSIS
Remember wine bars? They made their big splash here in the 1980s. After a golden decade they faded, as restaurants co-opted the idea by offering dozens of wines by the glass. But wine bars never went away entirely. New ones continue to open sporadically–particularly as restaurants and bars have become more like one another. Here is a particularly good such place.
WHY IT’S NOTEWORTHY
The intentions of Orleans Grapevine are clear. The large, heavy document that follows you to the table is the wine list, whose depth of vinous offerings rival those of all but the best-stocked major restaurants. It begins with only three pages of food. One of those is devoted to small plates. These are as ambitious as the main courses, and work well if you want to conduct a wine tasting at the bar–not a bad idea. The full-fledged entrees include good fresh fish, fish courtbouillon, a rack of lamb, a couple of steaks, and a double-cut pork chop. So it’s not just light dining to go with the wines.
WHAT’S GOOD The groceries bought by the kitchen are of excellent quality, a fact particularly noticeable in the seafood dishes. The steaks are USDA Prime, and the pork and lamb chops are of equivalent pedigree and goodness. . The ravioli–of which there are usually two kinds daily–are delicate and made in house. Even considering all the great versions around town of scallops, the ones here rank near the top of the list.
BACKSTORY
Owners Pam Fortner and Earl Bernhardt opened in the Orleans Grapevine in 2002. It was a long jump from their other French Quarter business: four loud Tropical Isle bars on Bourbon Street. In its quiet sophistication, the Grapevine could not be more different. The building went up in 1809, when Orleans Street and the blocks around it were the center of the performing arts in New Orleans.
DINING ROOM
The premises will please those who like having dinner at Antoine’s followed by drinks at the Napoleon House. The main room’s U-shaped bar is the focus of a distinctly French Quarter environment, with low lighting, irregular hand-made surfaces, and high ceilings. An unmanned piano that plays soft cabaret music all the time. A recent renovation made courtyard dining more appealing–at least when the weather cools. The service staff knows the wine and food well enough to make sensible recommendations.
Pompano with crabmeat.
FULL ONLINE MENU
DOZEN BEST DISHES, DESCRIBED
Small plates
Mixed green salad, port-poached pears, Roquefort, port vinaigrette
»Baby spinach salad, goat cheese, pumpkin seeds, grapes, honey mustard sherry vinaigrette
»Duck breast salad, blueberries, Maytag blue cheese, balsamic blueberry vinaigrette
Caesar salad
Gumbo du jour
Soup du jour
»Cheeses du jour with fruits
Baked brie, roasted garlic cream or strawberry balsamic coulis
»New Orleans barbeque shrimp
»Tenderloin of beef medallions, marsala and mushroom cream sauce
»Crab cakes, chipotle pepper, wilted spinach, remoulade
»»Pan seared scallops, mushroom wild rice, blackberry beurre blanc
»Steamed mussels, a saffron tomato broth, jumbo lump crabmeat, bacon, basil aioli
Entrees
Evangeline chicken (wrapped with bacon, fresh sage, Southern Comfort glaze)
»Creole seafood courtbouillon
Flounder stuffed with crabmeat, crawfish tasso cream sauce
»Fish of the day
»Ravioli Orleans (goat cheese, shiitake mushrooms, vermouth sauce)
»Herbed rack of lamb, brandy peppercorn demi-glace
Double cut pork chop, sweet potato and tasso hash, orange-pepper glaze
»Black angus filet mignon, crawfish-sundried tomato demi-glace or Stilton blue cheese sauce
Petit filet and Maine lobster tail
Seasonal vegetable melange, jasmine rice
Desserts
White chocolate bread pudding, white chocolate ganache
Peach cobbler
»Vanilla creme brulee
Bittersweet chocolate mousse, Grand Marnier whipped cream
Triple chocolate fudge brownie, ice cream, strawberry coulis
New York cheesecake, blueberry coulis
FOR BEST RESULTS
Throughout the menu, wine pairings are available, and three-wine flights along eight different themes can be arranged. Take advantage. This is a great medium-price restaurant to bring out-of-town visitors, who will find the place exactly how they envision a French Quarter cafe.
OPPORTUNITIES FOR IMPROVEMENT
The kitchen misses on some details. I’ve had undercooked rice, sauces that didn’t stand up to the main item, and one ingredient too many in a number of dishes.
FACTORS OTHER THAN FOOD
Up to three points, positive or negative, for these characteristics. Absence of points denotes average performance in the matter.
Dining Environment +1
Consistency +1
Service+2
Value +1
Attitude +2
Wine & Bar +2
Hipness +2
Local Color +3
SPECIAL ATTRIBUTES
Courtyard dining and sidewalk tables
Romantic
Open Sunday dinner
Open Monday dinner
Open some holidays
Open until 11:30 FR SA
Historic
Reservations recommended
Lost Bread (Pain Perdu)
“Pain perdu,” as the Old Creoles like my mother called it, got its name from its use of day-old stale French bread. Lost for most purposes to which French bread is usually put, these crusts are soaked in eggs and milk, fried or grilled, and served for breakfast. It is, you’ve noticed, quite like French toast, but a good deal richer.
This is another one of those dishes for which my mother’s version remains definitive for me. She soaked the bread in the custard until it was almost falling apart, and then (hold your breath) deep-fried it. The most outstanding characteristic of this stuff is its oozy richness. It is not oily in any way.
4 eggs
2 Tbs. sugar
1 Tbs. vanilla extract
1/2 cup half-and-half
1 tsp. cinnamon
2 dashes nutmeg
18 slices of stale French bread, about 3/4 inch thick
1 cup vegetable oil
1. In a wide bowl, beat the eggs with the sugar, vanilla, half-and-half, cinnamon, and nutmeg.
3. Soak the slices of bread in the egg custard. Lower two pieces at a time into the oil and fry about two minutes on each side. Let it cook to a darker brown than your instincts might tell you.
4. Remove the lost bread as it’s cooked, and drain it on paper towels. Use another towel to blot the excess oil from the top, and to keep it warm. Continue cooking the rest of the bread in small batches, allowing the temperature of the oil to recover between batches.
5. Serve immediately with powdered sugar. Warn your guests about the lava-like heat of the insides!
Serves six to eight.
Deep Fried Bread Pudding Poor Boy @ Ye Olde College Inn
This sounds both silly and unappetizing, but suspend judgment until you taste it. The reason this won overall at the Po-Boy Festival’s annual competition is clear. The effect of frying gives the pudding a crispy, thin crust all around–not a property we often observe in the dessert. It reminds me of my mother’s unique method of making pain perdu. She fried it in a half-inch of oil, to mind-altering effect.
Ye Olde College Inn. Carrollton: 3016 S Carrollton Ave. 504-866-3683.
This is among the 500 best dishes in New Orleans area restaurants. Click here for a list of the other 499.
November 20, 2014
Days Until. . .
Thanksgiving–2
Christmas–35
New Year’s–42
Food Calendar
Today is National Whole Ham Day. I cannot imagine Thanksgiving without a turkey. But I also cannot imagine it without a ham. It’s not just because I like ham. It’s also because I love the way the house smells when this ham is in the oven. As it is all morning Thanksgiving. And I love the way the early arrivals fight over the black ham–the crusty stuff I cut off at the beginning of the carving, coated with the brown-sugar-and-mustard black crunchy stuff. And I like to contrast of color and flavor with the turkey, even though the two are sliced more or less the same.
A whole baked ham is a joy far beyond the more familiar deli sliced ham. The texture and flavor change completely in the baking. I found this out the hard way, when one year I used a bigger ham than usual and didn’t bake it long enough. Nor did I leave it out overnight to take the chill off. I had a temperature reading of over 150 degrees after four hours of baking (the ideal is 160). When I cut in, the difference in color and texture between the center and the outer two-thirds was alarming and disconcerting.
The most common baked hams these days are those spiral-sliced jobs you find in specialty ham stores and supermarkets. I’ve had my share of them, but I haven’t bought one for years. I like the ones I bake myself better. Not just because I have a good recipe, but because I’m starting with a better ham than the ham shops do. Those hams ate too sweet and sliced far too thickly for my taste, too.
There’s only one thing wrong with a baked ham: getting rid of it. (You’ve heard that Dorothy Parker definition of eternity as two people and a ham.) We have a lot of people over for Thanksgiving, and everybody who wants it gets a big chunk of ham to take home. But we do all sort of things with what we have leftover. Sandwiches and omelettes of course, but red beans and jambalaya, too.
Five Days Till Thanksgiving
This would be the perfect day to buy the ham, if you’ll have on on the table for Thanksgiving. You don’t need to do anything to it beforehand, but it’s such an important part of our dinner that I’m reluctant to take the chance that I can’t find a Chisesi ham in the stores. Just keep it in the refrigerator until Thanksgiving morning, and you’ll have that potential problem avoided. I’ve already told you, but as each day passes, the chances of your getting a desirable restaurant reservation for Thanksgiving dwindles. Here’s a list of all the restaurants that are open that day.
Gourmet Gazetteer
Whenever we find a food name in Michigan, it’s always on the wild Upper Peninsula. That’s where Stew Creek runs for about two miles through heavily forested, uninhabited land. It winds up in the Ontonagan River, which lows into Lake Superior. Another creek with a food name–Hash Creek–does the same trick about a half-mile north. Yet another–Trout Creek–is in the vicinity of the nearest restaurant to Stew Creek, about nine miles as the crow flies, but thirty-six miles by car. (Logically, it’s called Trout Creek Restaurant.) All of this is in the Ottawa National Forest.
Edible Dictionary
chess pie, n.–A staple dessert of the American South, chess pie is most succinctly described as a pecan pie without the pecans. It also resembles a custard pie, except that it’s made without milk, and usually sweetened with corn syrup. It’s also common for the crust to be made with cornmeal or corn flour instead of wheat flour. It has no top crust. Chess pie is usually very sweet; some bakers add a little vinegar to the custard to offset this. The origin of the name is something of a mystery. The story that rings most true (or it could be that it’s just the most entertaining one) is that it’s the expression “just pie” (as planin old pie) said with a Southern accent. It does not seem to have anything to do with the game of chess.
Deft Dining Rule #888:
The thinner the ham is sliced, the better the flavor. More surface area for your taste mechanism to work on.
The Old Kitchen Sage Sez:
When buying a country ham, always buy the left leg. It’s slightly smaller but more tender. [This is a matter of controversy.–Tom.]
Annals Of Popular Cuisine
The fifty billionth hamburger was sold by McDonald’s today in 1984. I remember when the tally, advertised on the Golden Arches sign, went from 500 million to 600 million. Not long after that they changed that line to merely “Billions and Billions Sold,” so often did it need to be changed. What a troubling thought.
Today’s Worst Flavor
Today in 2002, the State of Louisiana set a bounty on nutria, at four dollars per animal. The gigantic rodent, introduced to the state’s swamps by Edward McIlhenny of Tabasco fame, found the place very much to its liking and continues to eat vegetation voraciously, such that marshes are denuded in spots. An earlier effort to promote the eating of nutria meat–in which quite a few local chefs were involved–failed badly. With good reason: in texture, appearance, and taste, nutria is unappetizing. What would you expect from a big orange-toothed rat? The things are still running amok.
Food Namesakes
Alistair Cooke, long-time host of Masterpiece Theatre, was born in Britain today in 1908. . . A movie called Nuts, starring Barbra Streisand, premiered today in 1987. . . Drew Ginn, Australian Olympic rower in 1996, was born today in 1974. . . Dutch World War II resistance fighter Ferdinand van der Ham was born today in 1916. How appropriate! . . Pro football quarterback Greg Cook was born today in 1946.
In a class by himself was R.W. “Johnny” Apple, who not only has a food name but was a food writer, mostly for the New York Times. That interest was secondary to his main gig, which was as a political reporter and analyst for the Times. His writing about food, however, was clearly fired by real passion. He was as knowledgeable about where to eat anywhere (including New Orleans, where he visited often) as any of the Times’s restaurant critics. Today is his birthday, in 1934. He died in 2006.
Words To Eat By
“Ham’s substantial, ham is fat.
Ham is firm and sound.
Ham’s what God was getting at
When He made pigs so round.”–Roy Blount, Jr.
Words To Drink By
“It is most absurdly said, in popular language, of any man, that he is disguised in liquor; for, on the contrary, most men are disguised by sobriety.–Thomas de Quincy, British writer of the 1850s.
The Overselling Server, #527232
The place has to make up for the expense of tablecloths, after all.
Click here for the cartoon.