Archived Article By Tom Fitzmorris Originally published February 24, 2006 Click here for the current edition A New Mardi Gras Idea My daughter, who is thirteen, admitted to me yesterday that she hates Mardi Gras. She's tired of the parades, which she says are the same old things over and over. She hates the crowds, and she really hates the sleaziness that inevitably attaches itself to the celebration. I explained to her that it's the let-it-all-hang-out aspect of Mardi Gras that makes it as popular as it is to many people. But I knew that wouldn't change her mind, because it never has changed mine. Most of us love Mardi Gras three times in our lives. We love it when we're between about five and eleven. Then we hate it, as my daughter does now. We start liking it again in our late teens through our early twenties, when we can hang out with our girlfriends and boyfriends and act a little decadent and raucous. (Or maybe do more than just act.) When that wears off, most of us drift away from Mardi Gras again until we have children in the first age category above, when we enjoy it all over again at that level. When our kids get to the teenage occasion of liking Carnival, that's when we hate it the most. If we're lucky, we get one more shot when we have young grandchildren. The exceptions to all the above, of course, are those for whom Mardi Gras is a passionate hobby. God bless 'em. We wouldn't have anything to talk about if they didn't throw all that time and money into the Carnival endeavor. At this point in New Orleans's history, the idea is surfacing--as it does every few years--that we would be better off putting our efforts and investments into institutions with deeper effects on the local economy than Mardi Gras does. There's certainly truth in that point, but not enough to make it worth pursuing. The effort to move a person's obsession from revelry to hard-nosed business would itself be better spent. However, I do think it's long past time that we rethink the way we celebrate Mardi Gras. Look at it. We have parades, all of which are essentially the same. And we have balls, all of which are also the same. What we don't have is the one kind of celebration which is, really, at the core of the occasion to begin with. The word "carnival" means, literally, "farewell to meat." But meat is not the only thing traditionally given up during the forty days of Lent that begins the day after Mardi Gras. One is also supposed to forgo, to as great a degree as one can stand (and a little more still) eating at all. And drinking, too. We're also supposed to stop celebrating and carousing. The celebration of Mardi Gras, then, is one last great burst of indulgence before all this privation begins. Whether one actually does undertake penance in Lent is another matter. That's what Mardi Gras is. But Mardi Gras has become the least pleasurable time in the eating and drinking calendar. This is so true that most good restaurants close that day, and many of the best restaurants in the French Quarter close for the entire Mardi Gras weekend. Even before, many restaurants see much reduced business, because the parades prevent people from getting to them. On the parade routes, the food available mostly comes from portable fast-food operations who tour the country selling the same fare whether it's at the Des Moines Corn Festival, the Dubuque Swine Fair, or the Pickle Parade in Peoria. Where are the poor boys? Muffulettas? Boudin? Nowhere. How about a kielbasa, or funnel cakes, instead? The scene is no better at home. What do most people make for a Carnival party? Hot dogs, hamburgers, pizza, chips and dip. It's the poorest eating we do all year long. Long-time readers will recognize this screed as one I've issued at this time of year for decades. But now, with the prod of Katrina at my back, telling me that it's time to do all the things we've always wanted to do, I've decided to move on the idea myself, instead of waiting for someone else to do it. (Because it's quite clear that nobody will.) Next year, on Mardi Gras, the Krewe du Gras will make its first appearance. It will not have a parade. It will not have a ball. Its only goal will be to stage the most lavish, unusual, innovative, and delicious dinner, abetted by the best wines, and punctuated by the most pleasant entertainment that can be assembled, in the most comfortable of circumstances in the city of New Orleans. That's it. Let me dilate on this a bit. I envision a dinner that begins around three or four in the afternoon. That will not only allow enough time for the cooks and servers to set it up properly, but also allow those who want to take part in the traditional Mardi Gras celebration to do so, and even get a rest in before showing up, in the most formal of attire, for the dinner. The dinner I have in mind has a historical basis. In the late 1800s, in the Gilded Age, dinners that seem laughably outsize were served at any occasion of great moment. They stretched on so many hours that they amounted to two meals, however, and they had long gaps in them for catching one's breath (or, in some situations, catching one's lover). I've always been fascinated by those dinners, and indeed have put them on about once a year for various charitable functions. I'd like to take it up to the next level. Here's a sample menu, with generic wines and dishes to illustrate the general principle. Note that there is an overwhelming New Orleans bias to the taste, and a centerpiece of a massive slab of beef--the traditional Mardi Gras Boeuf Gras: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sazerac cocktails Oysters on the half shell, with Louisiana caviar Champagne Grilled shrimp with red remoulade and cool glass noodles Sauvignon Blanc Turtle soup Rainwater Madeira Clear consomme with vegetables Dry Sherry Broiled red snapper with a gratin of crawfish with asparagus Chardonnay Lemon Granita a la Hansen's Sno-Bliz New Orleans Rum Bone-on prime, dry-aged sirloin strip, roasted whole and carved off the rack in the dining room Peppercorn sauce Bearnaise Sauce Wild mushrooms in butter Demi-glace with foie gras Potatoes lyonnaise Broccoli au gratin Bordeaux-blend red wine Grilled breast of duck with shredded confit and foie gras, with a sauce of Louisiana satsumas and duck glace Sweet potatoes Dirty wild rice Pinot Noir Salad of bitter greens and Creole mustard-paprika vinaigrette Cheeses Fantastic old red wine Three Worlds of Dessert (Chocolate, custard, and fruit) Late-harvest, botrytis white wine Nuts and bon-bons Cafe brulot Cognac Individual broiled oysters en brochette with bacon ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I'm thinking a minimum of six hours for this. With live music. A famous chef--different each year--as "king." Major figures from the wine and food worlds as our guests. The Krewe du Gras would be open to everyone, but it would be a club with a limited number of members. It is my consistent experience that dinners of even close to this ambitiousness begin to deteriorate when more than fifty people are in attendance. The dinner would be supported by dues. I'm intrigued that the amount of money the typical float ride in a major parade spends on throws, costumes, and other expenses is far greater than we would need to put on the grandest of dinners, with a great band, a spectacular room, and first-class cooks and waiters. I also see a charitable donation coming out of the dinner. While the dinner would be the big deal, part of the fun of being part of this would be the planning meetings, which would, of course, take place at excellent restaurants, where we could try dishes and wines. Our Duke Of Wine would be charged with building a cellar for the Krewe's future dinners. My goal in this, aside from the primary one of orchestrating the best dinner anyone attending ever had, is to start a new trend for Mardi Gras. I would hope that other organizations would copy this one--even if they splinter away from the Krewe de Gras. The dinners would make news in culinary circles, and expand our city's role as one of the world's great centers of interesting food. The name (thought of by one of the callers to my radio show) is already being registered, and I'm scouting around for sites and members. If this revolutionary new (but really very old) approach to celebrating Mardi Gras interests you, write: krewedugras@gameofliving.com It'll give us a better way to celebrate the day after we're finished with teenage, kids, and grandkids. © 2006 Tom Fitzmorris. All rights reserved. news@nomenu.com