We traveled to New Orleans, one of our favorite cities in the world, for a Labor Day weekend full of Southern decadence. I am not talking about sloshing down beer-puddled Bourbon Street to catch a scintillating spectacle of bored, over-the-hill strippers bump and grind their way through Hey Big Spender, or even standing beneath balconies imploring shy, retiring lasses to bare large parts of their anatomy for strands of cheap, colorful beads imported directly from China. What I am talking about is a four day food orgy which required iron resolve, a soupcon of gluttony, and several pairs of maternity pants I had prudently bought beforehand at Good Will.
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| Just Like I Remember It But Cleaner |
Desire Oyster Bar,
Clover Grill,
Somethin' Else Cafe,
Lucky Dog, and of course Emeril's fantastic
NOLA were all hits but the Best In Show was John Besh's
Domenica at the Roosevelt, a Waldorf Astoria Hotel formerly known as the Fairmont New Orleans. Oddly, my first trip to New Orleans was when I was in college when my French class professor sponsored a busload of sophomores to go to Mardi Gras. Although cloaked in a transparent charade of Francophilia, I believe his motives for transporting nineteen year olds who could legally drink non-stop for 24 hours in the French Quarter were dubious at best. The Fairmont at that time was a total dump and with four to a room the trip was relatively inexpensive for me--a young guy who rolled dough and topped it with sauce and cheese in a franchised Pizza Inn 30 hours a week. The lobby was impressive (it still is, and now that the cobwebs have been removed from the chandeliers they are almost blinding) but the room smelled so several parties ago we were forced to drink beer in the morning to overcome it and soldier on.
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| Mmmmmm, Beignets |
Fast forward
thirty years a few years and I am back at the
Fairmont Roosevelt's Domenica, sitting at a wonderful table in the window overlooking Baronne Street. There were four of us and we decided to start with the Affettati Misti, "a salumi and imported cheese platter with sweet and savory treats." Moments later our waitron unit brought out this veritable plank that actually groaned under the weight of all the house cured meats, wedges of smelly cheese, a jar of duck liver pate, interesting condiments like pickled watermelon rind and raisins, and a huge basket of steaming, savory beignets that had just been snatched from the fryer. The four of us dove into the platter like Tom Daley on steroids and didn't stop grabbing and moaning until the platter was clean.
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| When The Moon In The Sky... |
Our efficient server whose name was either Melissa or Jane forced us into another round of drinks as we composed ourselves from the meat and cheese fest, quickly reconsidering the rest of our ordering options since the appetizer course had been so deliciously daunting. We decided to split a couple of pizzas and they were both perfect. The Wild Mushroom pie featured tomatoes, fontina cheese, caramelized onions, bacon, and a fried egg while the Calabrese was riddled with spicy salumi, mozzarella, capers and olives. That one was a repeater for the rest of the night for my three amigos. I, of course, never burp.
We finished off sharing a panzanella salad and also a dish called Squid Ink Tagliolini which was black pasta with a generous smattering of blue crab, herbs and olive oil. Eschewing dessert, we staggered across Canal Street, reeling under an enormous caloric intake and discussing where we would be meeting for breakfast the next morning.
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