From the New Orleans Menu Daily Archives By Tom Fitzmorris Click here for the current edition February 16-28, 2006 Back to February 1-15, 2006     Forward to March 1-15, 2006 Sunday, February 26. One of these days, I will figure out the logic of the person who makes air arrangements for our cruises. Or I will accept that it’s probably what I suspect: that it’s done primarily to maximize profit for the cruise line. How else to explain that our flight to Miami--where we will meet a bus very late in the morning to take us to the ship, which we can't fully board until one-thirty in the afternoon--departs at six in the morning? This means, for us, getting up at three at the latest, showing up at the airport at four-thirty. As always, the worst part of any cruise is getting from home to the ship and back again. The flight was brief and very smooth, though. Our thoughts about catching something interesting in the way of breakfast or brunch were dashed by the timing of the bus. So we had to make do with coffee and pastries from Au Bon Pain in the airport, which isn't so bad. We were hungry enough--the walk from the gate to the baggage area in the immense Miami airport was a hike. It was raining by the time we made it to the ship, and when our bus pulled up we saw something amazing: a pile of luggage sitting in the parking lot, apparently unloaded from a bus and waiting to be taken to one of the ships, sitting in the rain getting drenched. The guy who seemed to be the one in charge got on our bus and began ordering us and the driver around. We took the initiative and tipped the driver heavily to get away from that moron, and to bring us closer to our terminal. Our luggage, when it arrived, was dry. The check-in was no less irritating than usual. You go through four or five bottlenecks in a long line. Which moves very quickly, but still you never seem to get to the end of it. Finally we were on the ship at about one in the afternoon, but found that the rooms weren't ready. How could they be? The ship only arrived at eight that morning, and it takes awhile to get everybody off. So we went down to pool side and had a little something to eat. And I had one of my favorite things: a welcome cocktail, one of those fruity rum jobs with the slice of fresh pineapple and an umbrella, kinda like a hurricane. Then I had another. At long last we were in the room. Naptime for me. Mary Ann went out onto the balcony and looked into Miami and its harbor--not a bad view. While attempting to sleep, I kept being interrupted by pleasant presents from the ship: chocolate-covered strawberries (to Mary Leigh's delight), a basket of fruit, a bottle of Champagne. Then the ship departed the harbor at four-thirty. I watched that briefly, then went back to sleep--more successfully this time. I got back the hour I lost this morning. Our first dinner was good. I had a veloute of asparagus with oysters and a float of bearnaise, and a surprisingly good sirloin strip steak with peppercorns. Those who ordered the lamb liked that a lot. Andrea Smith had the only clunker: a plate of pasta with little teeny langoustine in a red sauce. Dessert was a delicious frozen soufflee flavored with lavender. After that, we adjourned to the karaoke, which took place in a much bigger theater than usual. I think the karaoke thing must be taking off. After about a half-hour, there were a lot of people there, along with singers ranging from the very good (an old white guy who did creditable soul numbers from the Sixties) the the admittedly terrible and funny. I did my usual kind of music, and got the usual amount of attention with the Lion Sleeps Tonight. And I reintroduced myself to Dalwhinnie single-malt Scotch, which Carnival's ships' bars always stock. It's delicious. Monday, February 27. The first thing we learned upon boarding the ship yesterday was that the itinerary had been changed due to troublesome weather. This was mixed news. Bad, because Mary Ann does not handle ship motion well, and indeed the weather was challenging for such people. Walking around the ship was a lot like walking on a moving train. This forced Mary Ann to go to bed early, and toss and turn all night. She wanted to get off at the first port and fly home. The good part of this was that instead of having a short day in Nassau, we would go to San Juan, Puerto Rico, for an evening. I've always wanted to go there. So today we cruised across the sea, which lessened in its roughness as we went along, but only slowly. (One of the guys in our group who knew about such things said that the reason for the heavy motion was that we were in the Gulf Stream, and that the winds were coming at us from the north, against the stream.) Mary Ann and Mary Leigh took the right tack, and went up to the tenth deck, opened up a chaise longue, stretched out next to the pool, and took in the sun and fresh air. In the course of so doing, a boy about Mary Leigh's age began orbiting in our neighborhood. She was as intrigued as he was, but nothing would come of it. At least not just yet. The president of Carnival is a wine buff, which may explain the surprisingly good selection of bottles aboard, and the presence of a wine tasting in the schedule on sea days like this one. We went through Mondavi Fume Blanc (smelled great, tasted ordinary), Caymus Conundrum 2004 (as always, a flavor so fruity that it comes across as sweet, although I don't think it is), Mondavi Pinot Noir 2002 (better than I expected for the basic wine of that type), and Beringer, a meritage blend from 2002--big and full. These tastings are great to have on the day's schedule, but I wish the people giving them would shorten their presentations (which seem to assume no knowledge at all, and are based on a very limited knowledge on the part of the presenter). Lunch was in my favorite little-known dining spot on the ship, a little kiosk specializing in seafood. It's almost invisible, above the buffet. We discovered it on the Conquest (a twin to the Valor), and found its made-to-order bouillabaisse, fried oysters, fish, and seafood salads delicious. I had all that, alone with an octopus salad. Wonderful! A few hours later, as we continued the quest for mealtimes, a few of us met for afternoon tea. Good smoked salmon and little sweets, and a fine trio of flute, cello, and piano playing classical music. I play a head game with myself that this is how people cruised in the old days, and that the old days still persist. I like playing the part of an anachronism. Formal night finds far fewer men wearing tuxedos than even a year ago. I expected this Miami/New York crowd to be a bit more sophisticated, but the trend away from dressing up seems if anything to be picking up speed. I can't understand why. We men look so good in formal wear that we ought to be looking for more, not fewer, opportunities to don it. Tonight was our reservation in Scarlett's, the supper club. Something new has been added since our last cruise: the food of Chef Georges Blanc. (In fact, I found out that this came on just two weeks ago.) His dishes are found on the menu in the main restaurant, but for the supper club he built a seven-course degustation menu. Which, of course, I ordered. It started with a few amuse-bouches (they all come to me, since neither of my girls like things like caviar or foie gras). Then Chilean sea bass, a chicken with a cream sauce into which a bit of foie gras was melted, and a small filet mignons with a demi-glace and a small timbale of steak tartare. It finished with a fanciful dessert assortment that intrigued the others nearby so much that they wanted to get it too. (For some ridiculous reason, they were not allowed to do so, even though the cost of my dinner was the same $30 as theirs.) The dinner was wonderful, and put this place ahead of any previous shipboard dining in my past experience. About thirty of the forty of the people in my group were also with us this evening, lined up along a banquette that makes our standard Eat Club seating possible. On past voyages, the tables were set for four or six at the very most, and we could never sit together. Another plus for the Valor. After dinner, a bunch of us went down to the karaoke lounge. There, I learned, they were auditioning people for a show called "Legends." I'm not sure, but this seems to be taking place of the talent show. One is forced, however, to choose one of the handful of songs and personalities, of which the only one that appealed to me was Frank Sinatra, singing My Way, one of his least-interesting songs. I thought I did a pretty good job of being Sinatra up there, but late in the auditions a guy showed up with a large collection of friends, who thought his off-key performance was better than mine. Darlene, the lady who ran the show, told me that I was to be Elton John, singing Crocodile Rock. Gee. I can't back out without looking like a poor sport, but this is very disappointing. Tuesday, February 28. Mardi Gras, and I am wearing a Mardi Gras shirt. We have most of the day to spend aboard the ship, before we dock in San Juan at four this afternoon. Mary Ann is feeling better, since we seem to have emerged from the high swells that dominated the day yesterday, and since she has the prospect of getting on shore later. But that leaves the whole day open. We did away with a good bit of it be sleeping late--thank God, even Mary Ann slept until after nine. We breakfasted in the buffet (which has exactly the same food as in the main dining room, with the exception of smoked salmon and eggs Benedict). The girls then went off to soak up more sun around the pool, and I caught up on a few of my duties as leader. One of the best things Carnival does in the food department is to have ethnic days in the buffet. Today is the best of them: Indian Day. A large percentage of the kitchen staff, including the ship's chef, is Indian, so this is always good. It was mostly vegetarian, and very filling. Mary Leigh was borderline disgusted by the look of what I was eating, and said so, but that didn't stop me. Mary Ann forced us to get off the ship as soon as the gangplank was down, which includes gthe necessity of standing in line in the hallways and stairwells waiting to check out. Why not just wait fifteen minutes until the crowd is gone? She doesn't see the logic of that. One minute missed on shore is tragic to her. We walked around San Juan for a couple of hours. Its resemblance to New Orleans is substantial and logical. The two cities have many cultural roots in common. The cast-iron balconies and narrow streets of Old San Juan make a New Orleanian feel quite at home. The only big difference is that San Juan's buildings are more massive and taller than those in the French Quarter (they're built on solid bedrock, not gumbo). The most striking building of all was the Hotel. It looks like a cross between Gallier Hall (same floors, exactly) and Brennan's (similar courtyard, right down to the plantings). Beautiful place. We will stay there if we come back for a longer stay. Twenty of the group met me for dinner at a hip Puerto Rican seafood place called Aquavita. Glass-and-neon sculptures of jellyfish over the bar inspired me to concoct a joke (what's the slipperiest animal in the sea? The K-Y jellyfish). The food was better. The kitchen had a terrific assortment of fish to play with, of which the most impressive was the halibut (obviously, they don't get everything from nearby, but it was very fresh) and the swordfish (served on a more massive bone than I thought swordfish had. I had marlin, a steak like white fish I'd never tasted before. We started with a tower of fried squid, oysters, shrimp, plantains, and a few other things, and an assortment of ceviches (not as good as I was expecting). Fun, cool place with great food. But this is why our cruisers sign on with me. I hope my luck holds out as I select other restaurants throughout the cruise. After dinner, it occurred to me that an umbrella I'd bought for Mary Leigh at the Coach store had been left behind. I called to find out whether I'd be able to return for it. No; they'd closed. But they offered to ship it to us. How nice! That's what's good about these not-so-bargain stores. After returning to the ship, I went back to the karaoke lounge (it started late tonight) and did a few more numbers that didn't fit the general tenor of requests from the rest of the crowd. Forward to March 1-15, 2006 © 2006 Tom Fitzmorris. All rights reserved. news@nomenu.com