PASSIONATE RATIONS

I’ve got a big birthday this month.

As a food lover, I’m forcing people to give me a particular present.  Well, two presents really:  (1) hang out with me (if that’s within the realm of possibility); and (2) fill out a questionnaire.   This entry is about the former. You’ll have to come back to read about the latter.

The “hang out with me” part of the present is simply that.  I’m an introvert.  Don’t want no big party.  An abundance of small gatherings of a few favorite people suits me just fine.  So, I’m spending the month scheduling little events.

My run o’ fun began with February’s commencement, when one of my oldest and dearest friends actually drove down from upstate New York to spend the weekend with me.  We ate out multiple times and gorged ourselves on the best ice cream in the world (that I’ve discovered so far): Herrell’s homemade in Northampton, Massachusetts.   If you’re in western Massachusetts, this is a place you must try.  (And, oh yeah, check out Antonio’s Pizza in Amherst while you’re at it too.  They actually have a macaroni and cheese pizza.  It doesn’t get any better than that.  It seems I’m getting a few extra pounds as presents too, but no matter…).   It was a beautiful weekend of nostalgia and new memory-making.

And it wasn’t over when my dear friend left.

On Mardi Gras Eve (aka this past Monday), I scheduled a Louisiana-spiced dinner with two other friends and it turned into one bon temp.  

My favorite foods come from little places with big flavor and there’s a particular chef who delivers big time:  a certain Chef Wayne and his Big Mamou.

Chef Wayne’s original restaurant is located in Springfield, Massachusetts (happily within walking distance of my workplace but a 35 minute drive from home).  He’s done so well there, he was able to open a second venue and…praise be!…it’s within a fifteen minute drive of my front door.   Mamou II opened a mere week ago. How could we not go for Mardi Gras?!

The conversation flowed readily enough, what with the primaries being the next day—and what with the assistance of some Steel Rail ale.  But things really got goin’ when the food arrived.

I admit it.  I pretended to be in New Orleans and stretched my vegetarian travel-exception to a not-so-little dish known as “Big Mamou Chef Wayne” (crawfish tail meat, shrimp, red peppers, yellow squash, broccoli, and green onion in a lobster brandy cream sauce, served with puff pastry).  I’m not sure I need to do more than list those ingredients.  Doesn’t the list just send you into paroxysms of delight?  Yep.   There it is.

Two of us ordered chicken etouffee—a classic dish of boneless chicken in a dark spicy gravy enriched with onions, tomatoes, celery and garlic and sprinkled with crispy fried catfish tails.  By the sounds coming from the other side of the table, I know my travel exception will have to be engaged every time I visit.

My spouse got the seafood jambalaya, another classic of Louisiana cuisine.  My one taste made clear that everyone got the best thing on the menu—there are no second bests here.

Getting up and leaving at that point would itself have made a memorable evening, but I had noted upon entering that Chef Wayne was in the house, so I endeavored to get him to autograph a menu.   Not only did he indulge my whim, but proceeded to sit with us for a half an hour regaling us with tales of restaurateur living, including a hysterical tale of a customer who came to the restaurant (yes, a southern-cooking restaurant) looking for gluten- and fat-free foods.  And he lamented (with good humor, of course) the Northeast’s apparent inability to handle true Louisiana spiciness.

Ah, New England!   How quaint thou art!

Wayne is an exceedingly personable man with an obvious zest for living and cooking.  His volubility and hospitality made an already special evening simply shimmer with joy.

And, yes, we did order dessert to complete the experience.  And complete it it did.  We all raised forks over two desserts:  Aunt Millie’s Five Flavor Pound Cake with brandied peaches and pecans, and a bit o’ deep dish bourbon pecan pie.  The pound cake was dense and moist, drenched in the brandied sauce.  It was spicy and clean on the palate, subtly sweet.  But the pecan pie…oh the pecan pie!  

If you ever thought pecan pie pedestrian, this will change your world view.  I have no idea what they did to that thing, but I don’t think I’ve ever had a better dessert.  I’m sure people were glancing over their shoulders to see what all the hubbub at our table was.  We were in the throes of edible ecstasy.  It was deep and rich in a manner unlike any other pecan pie I’ve ever had (though one of my ex’s moms got close).  Maybe it was the bourbon.  Whatever it was, I’ll be back for more.

During Chef Wayne’s table visit, one of my friends mentioned to him that I like to write.  The Chef noted that people are always telling him to put together a cookbook (a thought I’ve often had while dining a-la-Mamou).  He looked at me with an inquiring eyebrow.

Hmmmmm….. Now that really would be a birthday present!