Thursday, July 1, 2010
1104 Restaurants Open Around Town
Dickie Brennan's Steakhouse
And
Bourbon House Summer Specials: $20
Most of the summer specials we've seen so far (and we've put one up here almost every day for a few weeks now) have been about dinner. Here are two at lunch--at the very attractive price of $20 for two courses: appetizer, entree, and coffee or tea included. Here are the menus:
Bourbon House
Corn & Crab Bisque
~or~
Soup Du Jour
~or~
Crystal Alligator
Shrimp Creole
~or~
Paneed Veal
~or~
Grilled Chicken Spinach Salad
Dickie Brennan's Steakhouse
Turtle Soup
~or~
Steakhouse Salad
Blackened or Grilled Fish
~or~
Grilled Beef and Shrimp Kabob
~or~
Seared Tenderloin Salad
This goes through the whole summer.
Bourbon House. French Quarter: 144 Bourbon. 504-522-0111. Seafood.
Dickie Brennan's Steakhouse. French Quarter: 716 Iberville, 504-522-2467.
Broussard's Summer Menu: $28.50, Three Courses
Broussard's, the handsome Creole-French restaurant on Conti Street, has published its summer special menu. It's a bargain even by the standard of summer specials, with three courses going for $28.50. It's available every night, in addition to the regular menu. The latter is itself adapted for summer dining, with seasonal seafood and a few new dishes from Chef Torey. Here's the $28.50 menu:
Seafood Ceviche Cocktail
Fresh Gulf seafood, marinated in fresh citrus with cucumber Poblano relish
~or~
Cold Crabmeat Curry Soup
Chilled curry cream soup with fresh Lump crabmeat, Parsley oil and sour dough croutons
Gulf Fish Of The Evening
Pan sauteed with a Creole tomato and crabmeat sauce
~or~
Gulf Shrimp LeLe
Jumbo Gulf shrimp, sautéed with green onion lime rice, shallots, white truffle butter and parsley dill pesto vinaigrette
~or~
Honey Lavender-Glazed Salmon
Grilled, with roasted red onion couscous, baby arugula and tomato sauce
~or~
Redfish Court Bouillon
Poached in white wine fish broth with Brunoise vegetables and sauce Hollandaise
Mango Cheese Cake
With Citron Passion Fruit sauce
~or~
Strawberry Shortcake
Angel Food cake with warm strawberry sauce, fresh Ponchatoula strawberries and vanilla ice cream
Broussard's. French Quarter: 819 Conti. 504-581-3866. Classic Creole.
Wednesday, June 23. Santa Fe. The thunderstorms every afternoon this time of year are very convincing lately. A look at the radar today showed small, isolated patches of rain across the area. But within those green blobs on the screen are patches that go into dark green, yellow, and orange. Even into red, darker red, maroon, and--if it's really bad, as it was today--small spots of lavender. Lavender in most color schemes connotes delicacy and calm. It's the second most violent color on weather radar.
One of those storms ran across the city at the end of the radio show, and left everything dripping as I walked under Esplanade Avenue's trees en route to Santa Fe. That restaurant had a long, very successful run in Marigny, but when its founder and chef Mark Hollger had a health problem and sold the place, it went into decline, not really reopening after the hurricane.
Now it's owned by a former chef at the old place, who reopened Santa Fe with more or less the same menu as in the glory days. He took over the former hamburger stand on Esplanade which, later in its life, was the site of a few major restaurants, most notably Gabrielle.
As I expected it would, the new Santa Fe took a tremendous backlash from its old regular customers when it opened here last year. They expected everything to be the same way they remembered it. But Santa Fe was gone long enough for those memories to have been well coated with icing and sprinkles, and not even the old place at its prime could have lived up to that. And a relocated, re-staffed place reopening after four years' absence would, of course, be less than perfect.
Those complaints have faded (but not gone), and the restaurant is always busy now. It was time for me to take a look. Despite the rain an hour ago, the tables on the sidewalk were all occupied. I thought these might be people waiting for tables, but they wanted the alfresco experience, complete with the tiki torches. Many tables were available inside. The place is as ramshackle and worn as it had been during the Gabrielle days--but, of course, a very large percentage of New Orleans diners find that charming.
The server was quick to point out that the menu in front of me was only a small portion of what the kitchen had to offer, and that this was the last night of the old menu anyway. (The number of times I've found myself in restaurants on the last night of the old menu defies the laws of probability.) But she added that the new menu would include many of the specials they would have tonight.
So, after a margarita, that's what I ordered. The first items was another iteration of the fried green tomato topped with shrimp remoulade, a dish that's becoming as universal in hip bistros as spinach-artichoke dip is in chain places. These were exceptional, however, in having been grilled with the heads on. The remoulade sauce was a hybrid of the red and the white isotopes, and topped with capers--all in all, a fine presentation and flavor.
Next course: gazpacho, and a side order of guacamole. I love the Upperline's idea of adding a spoonful of the latter to the former. The tastes really go together well, here almost as much as there.
I did not come here to eat a rack of lamb, but Mexican food. The server and the hostess made such a fuss over the lamb, though, that it seemed a mistake not to get it. It was as fine as advertised. The chops were the small ones from down under, but cut double thick, grilled to crusty-juicy, and wet down with a natural sauce with a touch of garlic.
That ran my per-person check to about as high a level as I suspect they ever see here. But I had the flan for dessert anyway. It was without flaw, and big enough to even push a lifelong lover of egg custard like me past the brink of total satiety.
I'd say Santa Fe is fully revved back up to speed, except for people who need it to be exactly the way it was in 1990.
Santa Fe. Esplanade Ridge: 3201 Esplanade Ave.. 504-948-0077. Mexican.
Thursday, June 24. M Bistro. Another day of ferocious rain. As Mary Leigh traveled across the Causeway, a waterspout formed on the lake very close to the bridge. They opened the drawbridge to stop traffic, and she was caught in the gridlock. She said she was frightened witless by this, and I don't blame her. I can't say the closing at the drawbridge strikes me as the most brilliant of ideas. If a waterspout were coming right at me, I'd want to move--even though it's known that the attempt to outrun a tornado is not a good idea.
The Marys called me during the radio show requesting the displeasure of my company at a restaurant acceptable to them. Fortunately, one of the places on my mind for tonight was the new Bistro M at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel. Executive Chef Matt Murphy--who came close to death a year or so ago because of a freak infection--is back at work. The hotel decided to rename and re-invent its fantastically boring main dining room to celebrate his return.
So it's Bistro M now. I saw the menu when it opened and it looked good. I knew it sounded good, because Jeremy Davenport is now playing in the bar adjacent to the restaurant. Jeremy leads a small jazz combo, plays a mean trumpet (in a style reminiscent of Chet Baker), and sings in an upbeat, pop style. He didn't know it, but he received almost unimaginably high praise tonight. Mary Ann said she could spend an evening in the bar listening to Jeremy's music. I could hardly believe my ears. Mary Ann, near as I can tell, doesn't like music of any kind.
Listening was more entertaining than dining. The problems all had to do with the service scheme, which isn't close to matching the sophistication of the food and certainly not the standards (or prices) of the Ritz-Carlton. What is a restaurant like this doing without tablecloths? Why are the chairs so low that you feel like one of those eighty-year-old guys you see looking through their steering wheels as they drive? Why did the hostess bring us, in a nearly empty room, to a dark spot on the verge of a passageway full of staff walking back and forth right next to us all night long?
We started with a charcuterie plate, including pork rillettes, a country pate, and a kind of mousse. Mary Ann wanted that. It was the low point of the meal; none of the elements were interesting at all. (I continue to go through life without a single enjoyable example of rillettes.) My first course was better: a dozen mussels, dramatically topped with the longest crouton I've ever seen--about eighteen inches. But I had to run down the waiter to get a soup spoon for the broth at the bottom of the bowl, and he seemed puzzled as to why I wanted it.
My second course was simple: crabmeat stuffed inside an avocado. Both elements were just right, fresh and ripe respectively. Mary Leigh munched away at a caesar salad she said was unmemorable, which comment she also applied to the hanger steak. (Although I'm thrilled that she has accepted--chosen, in fact--something other than a filet mignon. Twice in one week, yet!)
Veal cheeks! If I ordered that, it would make twice in one week. Maybe the only chance I'd get to compare and contrast for a long time. This version had the tenderness and slight muskiness for which veal cheese are celebrated. And a gelatin-delicious sauce, which almost just happens when you cook veal cheeks down. The meat's dark mahogany color was brightened up by what I think of as "hotel vegetables" (small, carved, barely cooked, largely without flavor).
Mary Ann's main was a sort of sandwich of blackened redfish with a crabmeat risotto in the center, and more crabmeat here and there. Like everything else, it looked better than it tasted, but not bad at that.
The one dessert was a mango cheesecake with chocolate sauce and ice cream--another excellent visual, tasting tropical and cool, perfect for the season.
It could by that my mind is poisoned by the memory of the original restaurant in the Ritz-Carlton, which was much more exacting and interesting than this one. That one died because nobody ever went there. Tonight, the bar was full for the music. But the dining room had us, one lonely guy over there, a group of staff dining over there, and one couple on the undefined line between the music club and the restaurant. I'd come here any night of the week for the music and a drink or two, but I think I'd have dinner elsewhere before or after. The $225 check for three (with tax, tip, one cocktail, and one glass of wine total) reinforces that urge.
I think I may have said that before about this very same restaurant, in its last incarnation before this one.
M Bistro. French Quarter: 921 Canal. 504-524-1331. Contemporary Creole.
Belgian.
Gretna: 2505 Whitney Ave.. 504-366-3995. Map.
Lunch Tuesday-Friday Dinner Thursday-Saturday.
Nice Casual
DC MC V
WHY IT'S NOTEWORTHY
Like Belgium itself, this charming chalet is wonderful surprise. The food of Belgium--basically French, with some Dutch influence here and there--is as marvelous as it is unknown in New Orleans. Clementine's does pure Belgian cooking, starting with spectacular mussels and running through crepes, fondues, and seafood. All of this goes at lower prices than you'd expect.
WHY IT'S GOOD
You'll be familiar with most of the food on this menu, but you're not likely to have seen them in one place before. Nor prepared exactly like this. Mussels--for which Belgians have a mania matched only by the passion they hold for fried potatoes--come out in several different sauces, several dozen at a time. Also here is enough fondue dishes, prepared at the table for two, to make an entire meal. Crepes are another big deal, prepared in both savory and sweet styles. Although they don't have as wide a range of Belgian dishes as a fan of the cuisine would like, they do a good job with the beer-based beef stew called carbonnade flammande and a few others of that ilk.
BACKSTORY
Chef Laurent Desmet and his mom (Clementine, pronounced in the French way) are both from Brussels. They opened the restaurant in 2002, taking over the former Willy Coln's Chalet.
DINING ROOM
After the hurricane, the Desmets renovated the old cottage, retaining the chalet look they inherited from Willy Coln. The better and larger of the two dining rooms has a homey, comfy appearance and windows looking into the neighborhood. It's rustic but pleasant.
ESSENTIAL DISHES
Garlic mussels (appetizer).
Daily soups (very homestyle).
Salade Liegoise (green, bacon, onions, potatoes, green beans).
Moules (mussels) any style (best: au vin blanc, a little creamy).
Crepe Campagnarde (mushrooms, ham, bacon, and cheese)
Steak au poivre with frites.
Chicken with tarragon.
Fondue dinner.
Belgian fries.
Crepe Clementine (puffy, with apples, flamed at the table).
FOR BEST RESULTS
Even if you've never had a taste for mussels, have at least one entree of them on the table. They will change your mind.
OPPORTUNITIES FOR IMPROVEMENT
The catfish with almonds would be better with some other fish--trout, flounder, even sheepshead. They could add a few more Belgian classics, at least as specials. Waterzooi comes to mind.
FACTORS OTHER THAN FOOD
Up to three points, positive or negative, for these characteristics. Absence of points denotes average performance in the matter.
- Dining Environment +1
- Consistency +1
- Service
- Value +2
- Attitude +2
- Wine and Bar +1
- Hipness
- Local Color +2
SPECIAL ATTRIBUTES
- Romantic
- Good view
- Good for business meetings
- Small private room
- Easy, nearby parking
Mussels in Ghent-Style Wine Sauce
The best mussels I ever ate were in a big restaurant (I don't remember the name, but it was in the former town hall) in the center of Ghent in Belgium, on the third day of our honeymoon. They were awash in what they called a wine sauce, although it seemed more like a cream sauce to me. It's a Belgian classic, and no place in the world is more enthusiastic about mussels than the Belgians.
Mussels are very inexpensive, so buy plenty of them. The best are the black-shell mussels from Prince Edward Island in Canada. (I do not recommend the green-lipped mussels from New Zealand.) Mussels should be tightly closed; if the shell gapes a little, tap it. If it doesn't close, pitch it. Although most of the mussels I'm finding in stores these days are pre-washed, scrubbing them and removing the byssus ("beard") is essential. After they pop open in the pan, check them to see whether they need to be washed inside even a little more, as sometimes they do.
Mussels cook very quickly, and they shrivel up if you cook them too long. So get them out of there at the first sign that they're heated through.
- 8 dozen mussels
- 1 onion, chopped coarsely
- 1 Tbs. coarsely-cracked pepper
- 1 tsp. thyme
- Stems from 1 bunch parsley
- 2 cups dry white wine
Sauce:
- 1/2 stick butter
- 1 heaping Tbs. flour
- 1 onion, pureed roughly
- 2 cloves garlic, pureed roughly
- 1/4 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes
- 1 cup heavy whipping cream
- 1/2 tsp. saffron
- 4 sprigs flat parsley leaves, chopped
- 2 green onions, chopped
1. After cleaning the mussels well, put them into a very large heavy pot with all the other non-sauce ingredients plus 1/4 cup of water. Put the pot over high heat and bring the liquid to a boil. After a couple of minutes, vigorously shake the pot to allow the unopened mussels to work their way to the bottom and open. Steam for about four minutes, or until all the mussels have opened.
2. Remove the mussels to a strainer over a bowl to catch all the juices. After they cool for three or four minutes, rinse the inside of the shells in a bowl of water, and remove any beards that may remain.
3. Add the collected mussel juices back to the pot and strain through the finest strainer you have or cheesecloth.
4. To begin the sauce, heat the butter in a large saucepan until it bubbles, and make a blond roux with the flour. Add the onion, garlic, and crushed red pepper. Cook for about two minutes--until the garlic is fragrant.
5. Add the mussel juices and, over medium-low heat, bring to a light boil and hold there for about eight minutes. Add the cream, saffron, and parsley, and return to a light boil for about three or four more minutes. Add salt and black pepper to taste.
6. Place a dozen mussels in a large broad-rimmed soup bowl, and ladle the sauce over them. Top with chopped green onions. Provide hot loaves of French bread, damp towels, and a bowl for the shells.
Serves one mussel fanatic or four normal people.
