PASSIONATE RATIONS

Venturing out of the French Quarter, which one must do to truly experience the delights of Ms. Nola, we made our way to Pascal’s Manale just for the shrimp.  Billed as a restaurant offering Italian-Creole cuisine, it has been said the barbecue shrimp was invented here, and they did not disappoint.  It came in a broth-like barbecue bath—spicy, hot, and aromatic.  We ate it joyfully, plucking the shrimp from the bucket with our hands and gleefully peeling and eating until sated.

One day we traveled out to Lilette, a charming restaurant located in what was once a fine home.  We remember the food as excellent, the chef (John Harris) being a real up-and-comer, but we best remember the service there.  Our two waiters were as different from one another as oil and water, one somewhat high-brow and stuffy, the other much more casual, though both were exceptional at their jobs.  We mentioned that we planned to stop by a neighborhood bar on the way to the classic Nola venue, Tipitina’s, to see the Rebirth Brass Band. The neighborhood bar apparently was known to have a somewhat rough-and-tumble clientele (one of whom later tried to chat up my significant other’s sister).  Upon hearing our plans, the stuffy waiter looked at us askance.  The other recognized what a gem a local bar can be, at least in terms of making memories and getting to know the native population.  It was truly funny to watch them argue the pros and cons of bar-hopping, Orleans style.  The wait staff can make all the difference when dining out.

We also experienced Herbsaint, which was recognized by Gourmet magazine in October 2006 as one of America’s top 50 restaurants.  It was there where I had a “Blood-orange Fizz”—a martini-esque drink almost too lovely to drink, and turned out to be as tasty as it was good-looking.  Alas, it no longer appears to be on the cocktails menu (perhaps it’s seasonal).  Well, for a Nola tradition, try the Sazerac instead (one of the oldest cocktails in the city that invented them, blending rye whiskey, bitters and, oddly enough, herbsaint—an anise-flavored liqueur).  I’m sure they couldn’t mix a bad drink, especially one containing their namesake liqueur.

For one meal, we bucked the southern cookin’ for a try at Asian food a la Nola at Lemon Grass, which resulted in an experience that has yet to be bested.  On the menu was something called “Yellow Fin Tuna Carpaccio.”  Carpaccio, as you may know, typically consists of slices of beef cut so thin as to be translucent.  Here, it was paper-thin tuna, beautifully plated, accompanied by shiitake-mushroom slaw and wasabi remoulade.  The term “melt in your mouth” simply does no justice.  It was so astounding, the experience resulted in my requesting a meeting with the chef (Minh Bui), overcoming my usually shy self to do so.  He graciously condescended to sign my menu, which he did, adding “Yan can cook.  So can Minh.”  I still have that menu.  Though the restaurant has since closed (hmm, I wonder if that autographed menu’s worth something?), the chef apparently has just opened Café Minh on Canal Street.  Chowhound.com indicates it is promising.  I can’t wait to get back to try it.  Here’s hoping a carpaccio is on the menu!

We saved Commander’s Palace for our next trip, though I regularly regret not going because everyone I meet with whom I discuss New Orleans flies into throes of ecstasy at mere mention of it.  And the name alone is delicious.

Though good food can be found anywhere, in New Orleans it is ubiquitous, making it quite hard for us to return to the more ordinary culinary environs of our hometowns.  I felt at home there, as if my ancestors had welcomed me to the fold with open arms and cries of “Eat!  Eat!”  And the music that thrums through the city only makes it more thrilling for a swing-dancing food lover.

So, if you get the chance, go to Nola.  Eat.  Your appetite for good eats just might help save a city.

STATUS, VEGETARIAN ADVENTURE, DAY 8:  One full week and counting!  Today’s menu has, thus far, consisted of:  1 slice of toasted rye bread with locally made creamery butter; a chocolate covered Oreo (don’t tell); and–can you guess?–one Dr. Pepper.  Doesn’t sound too healthy for one’s morning repast, does it?  I’ll have to do better next post.