    "Eating, drinking and carrying on..." -- Adelaide Brennan
New Orleans is Not OK. If you read anything today, read this. New Orleanian writer Poppy Z. Brite has a sledgehammer-to-the-head post up today which you should read, and which everyone you know should read. Every idiot politician from New Orleans City Hall to the Oval Office should read this too, so they'll know why we voted their asses out of office. (Emphases and added links mine.)
Copy, paste, and disseminate far and wide, with Poppy's blessing. Here's the permalink. Commander's Palace, Las Vegas. Gotta have something good amidst all this today ... Right now Commander's Palace in Las Vegas is the only Commander's that's open; the Brennan flagship restaurant in New Orleans got Katrina'd pretty badly (despite its initial appearance) and had to be gutted. It won't be open until summer, probably. In New Orleans Café Adelaide, a superb restaurant in its own right, is also serving as a fill-in Commander's, as you can get certain classic Commander's dishes there now (turtle soup, Tasso Shrimp Henican, and the like). Other than than that, if you want a Commander's fix, it's Vegas, baby, Vegas! Besides being Wes' birthday party weekend, the day we went to Commander's for dinner was also our friend Diana's birthday, so a double celebration was called for. We arrived early, so that we could get a little bit of an early start on the cocktail swilling and so that we could check out the newly-relocated Museum of the American Cocktail, which will reside at Commander's in Vegas for the next year until an eventual permanent home is found in New Orleans. It was nice to see the exhibit again, and our little things in it, but we were thrilled and surprised to see this, newly installed at this exhibit:  We were honored to be mentioned, and listed among that august group. A few Sazeracs, Negronis and Gibsons later we sat down to order, extremely well cared-for by Santino, their fabulous maitre'd (who were were very glad to see back at the restaurant; he'd left for a while), our captain Steve and his waiters. First out came the amuse bouche ...  A little scoop of mousse made one of their appetizers, Tabasco "Mash" Cured and Smoked Salmon, in which the salmon is cured with the salty pepper mash from the white oak barrels that's later mixed with vinegar to make Tabasco sauce, folded into a mousse and served on a toast point with microgreen salad and a little jalapeño oil. I was tempted to order more of that salmon, but I knew what was coming ...  One of my favorite dishes at Commander's, and in fact one of my favorite dishes in New Orleans -- Tasso Shrimp Henican, with Crystal Hot Sauce Beurre Blanc, Five Pepper Jelly and Pickled Okra. This is the late Chef Jamie Shannon's dish, and its retention on the menu is a continuous memorial to his talent (we all miss him terribly). The shrimp are semi-butterflied and stuffed with a lardon of tasso ham, flash-fried and coated in the Crystal beurre blanc, served in a puddle of the jelly with the okra as garnish (and I eat all the garnish). This is served as an appetizer, but is so good that a double portion of it would make an entrée that would rival any shrimp dish in town (an idea I'm going to steal from Poppy one day). There were a few Commander's virgins in the crowd, so we had to get the shrimp and, of course, the crab ...  I'm not usually a fan of crab cakes. Usually they have too much filler, too much breading, too much something which takes away from the flavor of the crab, which one would think a crab cake should feature. I've had crab cakes so thoroughly fried that they had a carapace that had to be cracked open, only to find lots of mushy breadcrumb dressing flecked with crab inside ... yecch. As far as I'm concerned, if you want crab cakes, you go to Commander's. Why? Because they're The Best Crab Cakes In The Universe. Over an inch thick, mixed with just barely enough dressing to hold them together, just enough seasoning to enhance, not to mask, the flavor of the magnificent jumbo lump crabmeat that consitutes about 90% of the composition of this dish. They're ring-molded, briefly seared on both sides and served barely warm ... absolute perfection. When we were chatting at the bar there was a gentleman sitting there dining alone, having made a meal of a starter of the Tasso Shrimp and a small main course of a dish that so startled me that I think a comic-strip thought balloon containing "!!!" had appeared over my head. It's a dish I'd never seen at Commander's in New Orleans, apparently because it's the creation of the executive chef of Commander's in Las Vegas, Chef Carlos Guia, and hasn't made it to the Crescent City yet. It's a dish that I had never thought of, because, well ... who'd think of such a thing?! A genius? A madman? We debated that very question as soon as we saw the dish prominently featured front and center on the menu, inside a box so that we couldn't miss it: Foie Gras Gumbo. A couple of us were immediately skeptical and suspicious, with Louise thinking it inappropriately highfalutin', gumbo being an earthy dish of the people, and the addition of foie gras being a rich man's affectation. Well, it was an expensive dish, but not that expensive; at $14.50 it's one of the most affordable foie gras appetizers I've ever seen (with the exception of the $9.95 seared foie gras at Café Giovanni in the Quarter, but that serving is about the size of your thumb.) It's not a huge serving either, not as large as you'd expect from a bowl of filé gumbo, but you have to think about how rich this dish probably is, and how it could floor you if you're not careful. This consideration is reinforced when you hear about how it's made; captain Steve explained it to us, but here's a more detailed description excerpted from Nation's Restaurant News:
 Oh my. As for our skepticism ... we were wrong, wrong, wrong. (Well, I thought we were, and I wasn't all that skeptical to begin with; in fact, I was kinda excited.) There's nothing wrong with taking a simple dish and elevating it to higher levels of complexity, and even a working man's gumbo is pretty complex in flavor. We ended up ordering one of these to share, and it's a good thing -- it's rich, very rich, and given all the other food that was to come that was probably wise. I must confess that it was so frackin' good that I was seriously considering ordering another one just for me (well, I'd probably give Wes some too), but if I had done that you would have had to change my name to Mr. Creosote by the end of the meal. We got some sides too -- the Stone Ground Grits with Goat Cheese, Spinach Rockefeller and some Crawfish Étouffée (made with Breaux Bridge, Louisiana crawfish and superb), and then it came time for the entrée. Given this crowd and its history, you'd think that the seven of us would have ordered seven different things, with the plates orbiting the table all night as we take tastes (which we've done several times), but as it turned out, five of the seven of us zeroed in on the same thing ...  Well, we are The Fat Pack after all, and what do our lives revolve around? PORK! In this case, Kurobuta Pork Loin, and here's its description from the menu: Iron skillet seared Berkshire "black hog" served with fingerling potato steak fries tossed with toasted garlic and buttermilk blue cheese, cayenne ketchup emulsion and Creole mustard-bourbon sauce. Um, holy frackin' bejeebies. This was mind-bogglingly good; the pork seared to perfection, with a beautiful crust and perfectly pink on the inside, with that great tangy sauce (there was ketchup in that, go figure, and they say so proudly!). The fries, though, the fries ... Michael didn't like them as much, declaring them to be insufficiently crispy, and despite the fact that I'm a crispy fry fanatic I disagreed. They were crispy enough, and besides they were tossed with a topping (which makes my head spin just thinking about it right now). Fingerling potatoes have such a great flavor just plain and roasted, but like this, oh man. I actually left a little of the pork and finished the fries (well, I knew what was coming next). Next, to our delight, was a dessert bomb, a Brennan specialty in which the table is bombarded with one (or more) of every single dessert on the menu, which also included a couple of plates of pralines decorated with "Happy Birthday!" in chocolate sauce for Diana and Wes. (Thanks, Ti!) Unfortunately my dessert bomb pictures are not the best, mostly due to two cocktails, two glasses of wine and the beginning of the onset of food coma. I'll try to see what I can salvage in Photoshop later, but for now the menu descriptions will have to do: Creole Opera Cake, thin layers of pecan genoise layered with chicory coffee buttercream and dark chocolate ganache, topped with Bourbon Chantilly and pecan praline cream; Passion Fruit Crêpes, housemade crêpes filled with passion fruit curd and California stawberries, topped with mixed berry granita and caramelized orange reduction suace; French Quarter Beignets, traditional New Orleans beignets dusted with powdered sugar, served with warm café au lait sauce and chocolate drizzles; Creole Bread Pudding Soufflé, Commander's signature dessert, a rich bread pudding whipped into a light fluffy soufflé and served with Bourbon whiskey sauce; and finally, the Brennan family classic, Bananas Foster, bananas cooked in brown sugar, butter and cinnamon and flamed with rum, served over vanilla ice cream. Even though we didn't finish it all, the waiters were nevertheless impressed by how much we did finish (well, this group is not to be trifled with). It was the perfect capper for what may have been our best-ever meal at Commander's, and they've all been great. Taking very shallow breaths (as my stuffed-as-full-as-a-haggis stomach didn't allow much room for my diaphragm to expand my lung capacity), we waddled carefully out of the restaurant. Michael and Louise headed to Barbary Coast to see a band called Darby O'Gill and the Little People (hey, how were they anyway?) while the rest of us headed back across the street to Bellagio and digestivos at Petrossian Bar -- 20-year tawny port for Diana and Robin, Macallan for Steve, 16-year Hirsch Bourbon for Wes and a Chartreuse for me. Later, we slept soundly. No money for levees? Hey, New Orleans! 'Member when I said I'd do whatever it takes to rebuild your levees bigger and better then ever, no matter what it took? Well, turns out there ain't enough money to fix 'em up like I said. Sorry. Take lots of pictures of your city before next hurricane season so we'll all know what it once looked like.
I wish that at least they'd be as honest in their dishonesty as Earl Long was when he was governor, running on a tax cut platform and then realizing he'd have to raise taxes. When asked what he was going to tell the people, he said, "Tell 'em ah lied." Clean house in New Orleans. The following information came via an email forwarded from Rob Florence in New Orleans, about a grassroots political movement called Clean House New Orleans. It all looks really good, but I fear it may be fizzling, at least as an organization; the "next meeting" listed was nearly two months ago, and since their blog was started in mid-February there have been no postings. Still, the stuff in the email is more than worth thinking about:
The more you think about the situation during Katrina, and the more you see what's being done (i.e., what isn't being done) locally in New Orleans, the more you think about getting rid of everyone in local office and starting over. So NoTORIous! An only slightly fictionalized sitcom starting Tori Spelling, playing herself, amidst a gaggle of demanding friends and Loni Anderson as her perfectionist mother, in which Tori's looking for friendship, respect and love? Um, sounds unlikely on the surface, and a show I'd be unlikely to watch, but ya know what? It's pretty funny. I'll be watching and you should too, and that's not just because my friends Damon and Sharon are writers on it. There's a lot of humor from Hollywood in-jokes and celeb name-dropping, but that's all part of Tori's world, so if you ever wanted to make fun of celebrities, or watch celebrities make fun of themselves (and Tori's very charming as she goes about it), then check out this show, running ... um, practially around the clock on VH-1. [ Link to today's entries ]
Would monsieur care for an after-deener meent? Eet's wahferr-theen! (Ooohhhh ... f*ck off, I can't eat another bite. I'm absolutely stuffed.) Okay, enough with the "Are you alive? Have someone check your pulse!" emails. I'm alive, just fat and groggy. In the final blowout for Wes' 40th birthday month, we headed to Las Vegas (along with about 30 other friends and family from L.A., New Orleans, New York and Ireland) to have a party. There were four Gargantuan meals -- Rosemary's, Carluccio's Tivoli Gardens (formerly Liberace's Tivoli Gardens, next door to the Liberace Museum), brunch buffet at Bellagio and a mind-boggling meal at Commander's Palace. Net weight gain -- five days, five pounds. (Oy.) Fortunately three have already come off, as I've been eating vegetables, soup and toast for the last three days. The party was a total blast, and was held at the Piano Room at Carluccio's. The restaurant was designed by Liberace, and the Piano Room is completely mirrored and festooned with twinkly lights (which unfortunately gave a couple of our friends headaches), with the music to his signature song "I'll Be Seeing You" etched along the mirrored walls, a giant bar shaped like a grand piano and anchored with one of Liberace's mirrored pianos, which is signed. It doesn't get any kitschier than that, folks. Food porn up soon, when I have time to get some of the pics into Photoshop. The Cocktailian. In today's edition of Gary Regan's fortnightly column, The Professor, our cocktailian bartender, plays with yet another wacky new liqueur called "Qi", made with smoky Lapsang Souchong tea, adds Bourbon, Peychaud's and orange bitters and a few kumquats and comes up with a cocktail called the Memere. Fond as I am of my Earl Grey infused gin, I'm wondering if I'll ever end up with a bottle of something as off-the-wall as this stuff, but I guess we'll have to see. Maybe I can find a 50ml of it somewhere. The drink sounds intriguing, though, full of bitters as it is. [ Link to today's entries ]
Cocktail of the day. We've got an inadvertent theme going this week -- whiskey-based cocktails that are closely related to one another and yet very distinctly flavored. We were back to Irish whiskey last night with this entry from Gary Regan's The Joy of Mixology. Lovely drink, and a very close cousin (if not sibling) of my own St. Dominic's Preview. The whiskey was once again Tullamore Dew, the bitters Regans', and the vermouth Martini & Rossi. The recipe specified a garnish of a green maraschino cherry, which visually is in keeping with the theme of this cocktail. Unfortunately green maraschino cherries are macerated in a mint syrup and taste absolutely vile, and fortunately we didn't have any. A red one was substituted. Use a green one if you can find one that isn't minty-fresh.
Up the Dubs! (Well, cocktail-wise, anyway. If I cared about such things I'd be a Galway man. Actually, on the rare opportunities I get to do so I love watching hurling; it's really exciting.) Hmm ... do I need to invent a cocktail called "The Galwegian"? I'm shocked, shocked to find that there are drunk people in this bar! Bushland's latest absurdity. "So the next step," Rick asks, "is sending undercover agents into Olive Garden to arrest people for being fat?" You ordered the Fettuccine Alfredo with extra cream sauce, ma'am ... you're under arrest.
I have a big problem with this. Wes put it perfectly: "What business is it of the state if I'm intoxicated in a bar (an establishment that, hello, has a license to sell alcohol), as long as I don't drive drunk or otherwise injure someone or cause property damage? Since when has the 'public' part of 'public drunkenness' been interpreted to include the interior of a privately owned bar? At this rate, we'll have to turn them all back into clubs and charge a nominal membership fee so they can be considered 'private.'" I'm all for the return of the speakeasy, if it'll keep these kinds of absurd intrusions at bay. Look, I drink (although rarely to excess). I enjoy alcohol, I consume it responsibly and usually enjoy a cocktail when I get home from work, or a glass of wine with dinner. That said, I'm no fan of obnoxious drunks. I'm all for preventing injury or death perpetrated by a drunk behind the wheel, and this is why a bartender is legally mandated to stop serving someone who's obviously intoxicated. The problem is, if a person can't even have one too many in a bar and stay there safely while he or she drinks water or soda to sober up before leaving, i.e. going out in public, without some idiot cop coming up to said person in a bar and forcing them to take a breathalyzer test for sitting on a barstool while intoxicated, then this goes too far. It's a little too much like the "Precrime" cops in Minority Report. Where do draw the line? If you're in a bar and have had two drinks within an hour, you're probably above the .08 BAC that's the cutoff for being too drunk to drive. Can these cops arrest you in a bar for that, or are they looking only for people with lampshades on their heads? Where do they draw the line? I don't like it. [ Link to today's entries ]
Cocktail of the day. I thought I had posted this drink before, but an internal search reveals no mentions on Looka! ... weird. It's an old favorite of ours, and we had a couple last night. It's listed in CocktailDB, albeit with no notes as to its origin, but we first found it at Robert Hess' DrinkBoy. The brands we used for the first three ingredients were Eagle Rare 10 Year Old, Maraska and Regans' No. 6, respectively.
It was, of course, the inspiration for Wes wanting to create his first original cocktail, in hopes that (at least at one or two bars) he'd be able to walk up to the bar and say, "Bartender, I'd like a Footloose, and my friend here will have a Fancy-Free." Ah, maybe one day. Chowhound gets bought. If you hit the main page of one of the best food sites on the web, the beloved Chowhound, you'll see the startling news that they've been bought out by CNET (more here.) The Chief Hounds seem excited, and after a moment's thought I'm excited too. Chowhound, due to its always having been a homegrown effort, had really overworked, lousy software, and I hated having to load literally 2MB of posts on one page before I could read anything. (I subscribe to the weekly Los Angeles ChowNews to get the digest of the best stuff.)
Bravo. I hope all the great Houndfolk who've been running this site for so long got a pile of money and a living out of this, and I can't wait to see how the new site will look. Let's keep our fingers crossed that it all goes well. (Hmm, I wonder if they'll keep charging $30/year for ChowNews.) Glencreosote and other Scots whiskies. I'm still very early in my journey to learn about Scots whisky (a term some seem to prefer to "Scotch" these days), as I've historically been more of an Irish, Bourbon and rye man. My Scotch collectoin is small but not too bad -- some Glenmorangie, Dalwhinnie (which is quite good), Compass Box Hedonism and Orangerie (the latter being a Scots whisky and orange liqueur, actually), Glenlivet 12 Year Old, the blended Famous Grouse and a bottle of 10 Year Old Laphroaig (only 1/4 ounce of which I've used, in a Dreamy Dorini Smoking Martini from when Wes and I spent New Year's Eve at home three years ago, watching movies and getting drunk on Audrey Saunders cocktails) which I am not yet qualified to drink neat. What I should probably do is attend more whisky tastings. Eric Felden of the Wall Street Journal (not typically my favorite paper, but in this instance we've at least got tippling in common) visits the Scots Malt Whisky Society in Edinburgh for a tasting. (Read and/or save the page soon, as this link will rot in less than a week.)
I like the flowers, but I might have to learn to appreciate the solvents. (Mmmmm, neeps and barbecued cat.) Cooking for dummies. Sadly, we are now afflicted by the dumbing down of cooking.
I seem to have missed this distressing phenomenon, as I come from a culture of people who cook and because I generally don't make recipes that come from places like Kraft or Betty Crocker (usually heavy with their own processed products). I have gotten occasional emails from people reading my recipes, asking what it means to sauté something; I just assumed they were anomalous dumbshits. (Okay, just kidding. Sorta.) Seriously, if you're going to cook, you can get a paperback copy of a basic cookbook like The Joy of Cooking for just a few bucks. Why would one try to do anything without learning a single thing about how to do it properly? Gee, I think I'll take up simple auto mechanics, but I won't bother to learn what a spark plug is or how to drain oil from an engine. Word of advice -- if you're unfamiliar with a culinary term you come across in a recipe, remember that (as in so many other situations) Google Is Your Friend. Organic food vs. local food. Some very interesting points raised in this Slate article -- while singing the praises of organic food stores like Whole Foods, there's more to think about when you look more closely at what they offer.
I've always been a little suspicious of the whole "organic" thing anyway -- more often than not "organic" is a synonym for "expensive", and although we still get our bi-weekly delivery from Organic Express (primarily for convenience), we often find the quality of the produce from the neighborhood Albertson's on the corner to be superior for certain items. I'm really big on local produce and small farmers, and one of the best ways to support and take advantage of that is to visit your local farmer's market, something I wish we did more often. [ Link to today's entries ]
St. Joseph's Day in New Orleans was yesterday, and the altars are back great form. Always a big holiday among the large Sicilian community in New Orleans and those around them, St. Joseph's Day also meant that my mom and grandmother would bring home a sack full of goodies, mostly Italian cookies and pastries, plus a "lucky bean" so that the pantry would never be bare. Although I've left Catholicism behind, I still like this holiday. Poppy's been writing about her participation in St. Joseph's Day activities (plus here, here and here. Don't miss her photo set of the St. Joseph's altars she visited, and have a look at this "virtual St. Joseph's altar" featuring a pile of recipes for Italian dishes. Yesterday was also Super Sunday -- did anyone go see some Indians? Saving Broadmoor. David Winkler-Schmit of South Prieur Street writes about how he and his neighbors are determined to rebuild and restore their flooded New Orleans neighborhood, after seeing that the Bring New Orleans Back Commission saw their future as a big green circle (i.e., future parkland). Cocktail of the day. Because you're going to need a drink before continuing to read today's posts. This one, a very tasty Manhattan variation, came from The Old Waldorf-Astoria Bar Book. For best results, use a high-quality, spicy sweet vermouth like Carpano's Punt E Mes or Antica Formula, and Regans' Orange Bitters No. 6.
Yum. Your tax dollars at work, part 8,617. Rather, your tax dollars at waste:
Color us surprised. This was predicted as soon as the adminstration began its criminally belated response to the disaster by assigning contracts to its cronies. Of course, Halliburton got these contracts not because of their huge GOP contributions and close adminstration ties and because Vice President Dick "The Cannibal" Cheney was their former CEO who's still getting checks from them, it's because they're generally highly competent and because they were able to do the best job for the people, right? Er, no.
And today, there's this:
I know this country has too short of an attention span to actually do something like organize a millions-strong march on Washington, but can we please all remember this when we go to the voting booth in November, and get vote the ruling party out of power in the legislative branch? Survey: Bush = "incompetent". Making our day ... "In one independent survey, conducted by the Pew Research Center for the People and the Press, a plurality of respondents used the word 'incompetent' when asked to describe [George W.] Bush. In previous polls, the most common word had been 'honest.'" It took them this long to figure this out? [ Link to today's entries ]
Ná cuir ceist orm ... níl a fhois agam. (I do know, actually; I just like saying that.) Lá Fhéile Pádraig Sona Duit! Happy St. Patrick's Day, and all that. No feckin' green beer today, please. Black. I'm reminded of a lyric Christy Moore quoted on his site today, a Colm Gallagher song he does that is included on his superb box set entitled "The Grand St. Patrick's in San Fernando" (which I should've played last night, yet opted for something a bit more lighthearted):
The Irish Times tells us what's expected at St. Patrick's Day celebrations in Ireland this year:
Ah Jaysis, those Loyalists sure do know how to party, don't they?
(Oh right, no icky queers allowed in U.S. Irish parades.)
What, no drunks either?! Sure they're only little, how much trouble could they be?
Meh. If I were out celebrating today, I'd rather it be at the corner of Constance and Third in da Irish Channel. Try not to be too much a plastic Paddy, but have an enjoyable day all the same. (As for us, we find that an Irish bar is the last place we want to be on St. Patrick's Day. We'll stay home and drink, thanks, and watch "Father Ted" and "The Van", I think. Such homebodies.) Deoch! Okay, so there may be drinking involved. (No! I don't believe it!) If I were to offer a Cocktail of the Day today, it might be simply this:
There's a caveat, though -- make sure that the places you order Guinness from the tap actually do it well. A couple of weeks ago we went with some friends to The Knitting Factory in Hollywood to see The Sacred Cowboys, a country/Southern rock band whose lead singer is W. Earl Brown, whom you may know better as Dan Dority, Al Swearingen's evil henchman on "Deadwood". They were great, but I swear ... the Guinness I was served there was without a doubt the most god-awful pint it has ever been my displeasure to have pass my lips. It tasted old, stale, heavily metallic and ... well, Jaysis knows what other shite was in that line. It may have been the single most disagreeable pint of Guinness served to anyone since Arthur Guinness started his brewery in Dublin in 1759. Needless to say, do not ever order a Guinness at The Knitting Factory. (Andy said even the whiskey tasted "off", so you're probably better off with bottled beer.) If there isn't a decent pub in your neighborhood, apparently you can just order a pre-built pub and they'll deliver it to you (which I find fascinating and bizarre). Speaking of whiskey ... it should be Irish this weekend, of course. We have a pretty decent collection at home, consisting of, if I recall correctly:
There will be sipping. Then there's the cocktail question. Well, sad to say, Ireland isn't much of a cocktail-drinking country. I love the pints and the pure drop, but when were were last there I did miss the ould cocktail. (The Octagon Bar at the Clarence in Dublin filled the bill, although at an eye-popping €15.50 per drink for starters.) There isn't really a "typically Irish" cocktail, although you'll see lots of things with Irish names, many green for the sake of being green, and that greenness coming from awful doses of green crème de menthe. "What about Irish coffee?" you ask. A lovely drink it is, but I've always thought of it as kicked-up coffee rather than an actual cocktail. It didn't exactly spring up from local pub culture; it was invented by head chef Joseph Sheridan at Foynes Airport in Co. Clare (precursor to the modern Shannon Airport). As the story goes, "passengers from America would come into the Foynes airport via seaplanes (flying boats), chilled due to weather conditions. Typically they would order hot cups of coffee or tea when the arrived to their terminals. Brendan O'Regan, the manager of the Foynes catering service, believed the passengers would like something stronger than just coffee or tea and so Joseph Sheridan created the Irish Coffee." This would have been sometime in the 1940s, and Sheridan moved to Shannon when Foynes was closed in 1945, taking his recipe with him. I'm not sure if many people in Ireland other than tourists ever order this in a pub, but that aside it's really good when made well, and is perfect for taking the chill of a wintry day. It's easy to make, although having hand-whipped cream on hand isn't generally a daily occurrence in my house (and don't you dare use that stuff from the can).
For a New Orleans version, the Irish Channel Coffee, use good, strong New Orleans dark roast coffee and chicory, preferably Community or Union (use French Market or CDM if that's what's around). There's one cocktail I'm quite fond of that's becoming associated with this day, although I doubt that a single person in Ireland will drink one today (as opposed to the 150 pints of Guinness that are being pulled per second for each of the 24 hours of St. Paddy's Day). It's Irish whiskey-based and quite lovely, but calls for a bit of a tolerance for the intensely herbal liqueur Chartreuse:
In yesterday's edition of The Cocktailian, Gary Regan's fortnightly column in the San Francisco Chronicle, The Professor, our cocktailian bartender, offers a different version; same ingredients, different proportions -- "More whiskey, less vermouth, less Chartreuse."
Here's my own contribution to the small roster of "Irish" cocktails (actually, Irish whiskey cocktails). I've posted it in the past, added a little history and what is a very good name, I must admit.
If you follow all of the above suggestions ... well, try to space them out a bit. Bia! Since St. Patrick's Day falls on a Friday this year, by extension you should be celebrating all weekend. This'll give you plenty of time to do some cooking, so get busy on these wonderful Irish dishes (I can't wait to have the first two, as tomorrow night's dinner): If I'm really brave, we'll start out with that glorious cornucopia of pork products, the Full Irish Breakfast: Eggs, rashers (Irish bacon), sausages, black pudding (yum!), white pudding, potato farls, brown bread, butter and strong tea. For starters. With your pint try some Irish cheeses, maybe Dubliner or Cashel Blue. Then, for dinner, you could try ...
There's lots more at Epicurious' St. Patrick's Day feature. The current issue of Saveur magazine (the website's behind, sadly) has an excellent article about Irish food and cooking this month, so check that out too. Ceol! If you missed my all-Irish special last night ... well, you missed out. I started with Christy, singing one of his own, about The Man himself:
From there went to Christy singing Shane, then Shane (still alive, by Jaysis) and the Pogues, Ron Kavana, Horslips, Damien Dempsey, Planxty, Glen, Mic and lots more. Here's the playlist. Looking through that playlist is a decent place to start with your weekend Irish music-listening. You should also check out RTÉ's excellent television series "Other Voices", which thanks to the miracle of modern technology you can watch via the web. My discovery of the month: Dublin band The Immediate, featured on programme 7 of the current series. If two years of haranguing you hasn't sunk in, buy the Planxty Live 2004 CD and DVD. Just do it. Buy Mic Christopher's Skylarkin too, while you're at it. Then go to the Toasted Heretic website, and specifically to their music downloads page, and download everything they're offering. That's a start, anyway. Craic! From Julian Gough, lead singer and lyricist of legendary Galway band Toasted Heretic. I've only seen two Heretic gigs, but Jaysis, what I would have given to have been at this one:
Heretic's first two cassette-only albums have been lovingly remastered and packaged into a stunning 2-CD set called Now In New Nostalgia Flavour. They're for sales in the States via CD Baby. Get the set NOW, before the bastards at Tayto (formerly my favorite Irish crisp) round them all up and destroy them. And if you ask nicely and promise to buy me a pint some day, I'll send you a very rare Heretic song, one of their best. (Brendan, you already have it, of course.) [ Link to today's entries ]
Quote of the day. This is great.
(Thanks, Audrey!!) Walkin' to New Orleans. This in yesterday via Jane and Nate (thanks, Jane!)
This is a very cool thing, and I hope it gets some notice. Here's a site with daily updates. Laughing our way back to life. Novelist Mark Childress, a "once and future" resident of New Orleans, writes of the first post-K Mardi Gras, and of my favorite of the parades I attended (which I've illustrated with my own photographs):
Amen. Here's a shot of Steve (in his aforementioned costume) and Mary (whose costume got some press attention as well): 
I really loved the Krewe d'État. Next to the stupendous Krewe du Vieux, it's easily the most satirical of the krewes (and I'd say it's the most satirical krewe that's clean enough to bring your kids to). We had a blast. The entire set of my photos from the Krewe d'État parade can be seen here. I'll have photos of the Mardi Gras Indians on the streets of the Tremé, wacky costumes and other Mardi Gras photos up when I have time. A Flood of Emotions. Expat New Orleanian Scott Jordan, now living in Carencro and working as the editor of Lafayette's Independent Weekly wrote an excellent article about heading back home for Mardi Gras.
That was the beginning and the end. Make sure you read the middle. (Thanks, Scott!) [ Link to today's entries ]
A new low. Bush's approval rating is now at 34%, according to the second CBS News poll in a row, released Monday. Shall we say, the twenties by late spring? UPDATE: New Pew poll released today has his approval rating at 33%. A new definition for "journalism." Apparently it's "making shit up."
Read the rest. So much of what's passing for journalism these days is a disgrace. N.O. housing issues. Here's some far better reporting, (i.e., true stuff) from a really cool Reuters reporter we met at The Chimes B&B in New Orleans:
My folks are currently wondering if and when they'll be eligible for the state buyout (as I understand it, you can get the difference between the assessed value and what you got from flood insurance, up to a cap of $150K). What would be even better is if they can get someone to buy the house and property (keeping our fingers crossed on both of those options). Keeping the music alive. More good stuff from Jeffrey: It was a high-energy homecoming as Kirk Joseph's Backyard Groove blasted out the funk at New Orleans' Maple Leaf Bar to fans and old friends who couldn't help but dance long after midnight. You can help New Orleans musicians by donating to the New Orleans Musicians' Hurricane Relief Fund or to the Tipitina's Foundation. Hope springs infernal. (Via Wes.) Could it be? John Fithian, who heads the National Association of Theatre Owners, said his group is looking into ways to cut down on theater hassles. Among them are making pre-show advertising less of an irritant to viewers and curbing rude behavior among audiences, which could include blocking cellular signals to keep people from talking on their phones during movies, he said. Mr. Fithian, the way to make pre-show advertising less of an irritant to viewers is to eliminate it. At least from the auditorium itself; perhaps a big-screen plasma TV in the lobby where people could stand and watch if they wanted to. As for curbing rude behavior among audiences ... well, it's currently illegal to block mobile phone signals. I suggest big, scary-looking bouncers. Back in my day, at the Village Aurora Cinema 6 in Algiers, we used to eject people from the theatre with alarming regularity. (It only occasionally resulted in threats of violence or death, but only because the ushers and managers tended to be little and skinny.) Maybe if theatres started hiring bouncers like bars do. How about a pillory for rude theatregoers out front? I'd pay extra for that. Still, we'll take what we can get. Whatever you can do to get rid of the ads and the assholes, we fo' dat! Quote of the day. It boggles my mind, too.
Question the administration. Quote of the day, part deux. Regarding a (truly awful) bill which technically did not pass the House of Representatives, but which the President signed into law anyway.
The actual malice in the first place is that Congress passed a bill which attempts to reduce the deficit by reducing benefits for the poor and elderly. What's a mere typo, a clerical error, to the truly corrupt and morally bankrupt? [ Link to today's entries ]
Yay, Irma! News about the Soul Queen of New Orleans ... here's a press release:
Wow. I can't wait to hear this. [ Link to today's entries ]
Argh. Of course, Jazzfest schedulers have put The Boss on opposite The Meters.
Well ... I saw the Meters reunion last year. I haven't seen Bruce since 1980. I think I know where I'm going to be that day, and at the end on the second Sunday. There ain't no way I'm missing Fats. The Cocktailian. Rather than a visit to the Professor this fortnight, we instead stick with his real-life alter-ego, columnist and cocktailian author Gary Regan, as he experiments to create a new cocktail (via much trial and error) featuring a wonderful new spicy walnut liqueur from from Napa, Nocino della Cristina. He finally comes up with something you can easily make at home or, if you're willing to go through some effort, helps you recreate the signature drink of San Francisco's Hawthorne Lane restaurant that also features the liqueur, the marvelous-looking Bella Noce cocktail. Quote of the day. From a review on DVDfile.com of "the 2005 movie that was robbed at Oscar time":
I can't wait for the DVD release, which looks great. Speaking of DVDs, by the time Wes and I got around to Oscar catch-up time, Crash was already out on DVD. We found a used copy on Half.com, watched it, and as soon as it was over decided that we, the rabid and consummate DVD collectors who keep really bad horror movies as well as multiple copies of films because the earlier DVD release has a trailer that wasn't included on the special edition, didn't even want to keep the Crash DVD. We sold it on Half.com for more than we paid for it. Why save New Orleans? Very cogent and positive answers are put forth in this TIME article co-written by, of all people, Newt Gingrich. (I guess he's Not Quite Completely Evil. Wes wonders, "Is he just messing with our heads?")
Make sure you tell this to your buddy Bush and his rubber-stamp Congress. Cartoon of the day. The current edition of Don Asmussen's "Bad Reporter": Keeping track of the lies is getting difficult... [ Link to today's entries ]
Happy birthday, Wesly! Welcome to your forties. *smooch* :-) It's official! Not like we didn't see this coming:
Yeah you rite! Now, Jazzfest organizers, PLEASE do not schedule Bruce opposite Allen Toussaint and Elvis Costello, or The Meters. Please. Oscar debacle. Yeah, I know, it's three days later, and I've been too busy/lazy to post in the meantime. But I can still hear the sound, heard at the Oscar party I attended which had a number of industry types in attendance, of gasps and jaws dropping when Nicholson said "Crash." I can't remember when there's been a worse choice for Best Picture in my lifetime, and cements for me the complete irrelevancy of the Oscars for anything other than studio publicity, budgets and actors' salaries. I'll lift a bunch of links from Jeroen, as he already did all the research I was about to do (and did I mention the lazy thing?) ... Here's Los Angeles Times film critic Kenneth Turan's excellent essay on why "Crash" won, why "Brokeback" lost and how the Academy chose to play it safe.
A little research:
"The disparity," Jeroen opines, "is simply too big to not call it a deliberate snub." Wesly points out that probably the only reason "Crash" picked up its sole best picture nod other than the Oscar was that Chicago critic Roger Ebert, whom we respect and usually agree with, loved the picture. An amusing and dead-on article from the Los Angeles Daily News about the lessons learned from Oscar, which ends "Crash's best picture win proved that arguing, belittling and fearing anyone that's different is what most members of the Hollywood establishment relate to. Sad to say, but that's probably the most realistic lesson that the 78th Academy Awards had to offer." An email that's apparently getting forwarded around:
Two of these points fit in perfectly with Wes' summary of the film's overly simplistic message: Push a decent person hard enough and you get a racist; push a racist hard enough and you get a decent person. Finally, an excellent MSNBC article by Erik Lundegaard entitled "Oscar Misfire: 'Crash' and Burn":
Read the whole thing. Y'know, we're already saying screw next year's Oscar party. [ Link to today's entries ]
All on a Mardi Gras Day. After an absolutely hideous two-hour airport traffic jam last Wednesday, getting bumped from my flight, finding out that there wasn't another seat out of New Orleans until Friday, asking if they could get me out of Baton Rouge, dropping off my rental car then getting another rental car from someone else that I could drive one-way to B.R., going back to the house (but at least having a great dinner at Ye Olde College Inn -- a Gargantuan fried oyster, Havarti cheese and BACON poor boy), getting up at 5am Thursday, driving to B.R., checking in only to find they had booked me on an oversold connection out of Houston with no seats, missing that connection anyway due to a late inbound flight, getting rebooked on a 2:50pm flight but then scrambling for a 1:25 standby, flying back, driving straight to the radio station and doing a 2-hour radio show mostly consisting of brand-new records I hadn't even listened to yet ... well, I've been too wiped to post, sorry. Mardi Gras was fantastic, though, as you've probably read. The weather could not have been more perfect on Mardi Gras Day. The crowds, although somewhat smaller due to lack of hotel rooms and a rainy first half of parade season, were amazing (with TONS of locals), friendly and well-behaved. The parades were wonderful, and the level of satire high. (I'll post pictures over the next few weeks.) Don't believe the pessimistic articles like this one, which vastly underestimated the crowds (more like 70% of normal, not 35%) and which said "The bottom line: The city's sputtering economy did not get the lift many had hoped for." To that article's credit, though, it did include this:
(Yay, Mary!) Believe this story, written by locals who know what they're talking about.
It was a Mardi Gras to remember. Now it's Lent, for those who follow such things. I forgot who said this, but I'll repeat it: This year, I don't think anybody in New Orleans should have to give up anything for Lent. They've already given up enough. Elevating our civilization to a Higher Order. Oh yeah, my costume. It came off pretty well, I think. I paid tribute to one of the world's great scientific geniuses, Dr. Momus Alexander Morgus, resident of the Old City Ice House atop the French Quarter, and was recognized everywhere on the streets of the city. I collected a lot of handshakes and hugs from my fellow New Orleanians, from regular folks to krewe members to Mardi Gras Indians (I got a bear hug from the Big Chief of the Mandingo Warriors), and at least half of the people who recognized me asked, "Where's Chopsley?" (he was at home, sadly, without enough vacation time; Wes would've made a great Chopsley). It was a blast. 
As the son of a dentist, I'd have to speculate that my dad would have been delighted with my new dental work. Oh, one more thing -- I was hoping that I'd be the only Morgus on the streets that day, but I'm about 80% sure I ran into the REAL Dr. Morgus (a.k.a. Sidney Noel Rideau, who's been playing the character on and off on local television since 1959). I encountered another Morgus, and was flabbergasted ... because he was perfect. Absolutely perfect. Perfect as in, it's him. I think. We looked at each other quizzically, and approached one another warily, but never got closer than about 20 feet. "You're a very handsome man, sir!" I called out to him. He looked ... well, a little put out, frankly, shook his head and kept walking. I wish I had gotten a picture. Listen to Dr. Morgus' own post-Katrina greeting, and listen to Dr. Morgus' own song, performed in 1961 by "Morgus and the Three Ghouls" (actually, Mac "Dr. John" Rebennack, who delivers a blistering guitar solo, his second cousin Frankie Ford and members of Huey "Piano" Smith's band). He even lies about cheese. An amazing post from "ReddHedd" at Fire Dog Lake, which begins with yet another George Bush lie, and the greater picture of what it represents. February Looka! entries have been permanently archived. [ Link to today's entries ]
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