In Defense of Emeril

Not because he needs it, but because the vitriol spewed at him by these elitist, East coast shoemakers needs to stop. First some background. The other evening while watching another painfully boring, self-important and faux psychological No Reservations some little precocious junior Neurologist on the Hudson Valley show perks up, "My dad hates Emeril."

Her dad is Michael Pardus a chef instructor at the world renowned Culinary Institute of America. No doubt Chef Pardus is a very good teacher and I am sure the man can cook. But you know what they say about why people teach.

Now Emeril did not go to the CIA, he went to Johnson & Wales. One suspects some of the jealousy fueled hatred directed towards Emeril by the Ruhlmans, Parduses and others is little more than Harvard grads mocking Thornton Melon's success. If so, grow up jerks.

In the early 90's, Emeril Lagasse took a corner warehouse in an abandoned part of town and turned it into a global empire. He also went on an unknown and struggling television network and turned it into the media force (for good and bad) that is now the Food Network. Sure, some people found the catchphrases slightly annoying, but the fact is Emeril did more to get people excited about cooking, eating, and restaurants than any other chef in history.

Emeril out Juliaed, Julia. And sorry but Emeril did not give rise to the Rachel Ray's, Sandra Lee's etc... on the Food Network. A series of market studies, advertiser driven shows, and focus groups gave us 30 Minutes From Can to Table. Essence of Emeril is also one of the best cooking shows on television. On Essence, Emeril is much calmer, more instructive, and delivers much more than just a final dish.

Bourdain's entire career would have festered out in a French-american version of TGI McFunsters had Emeril not come on the scene in the early 90's. Who would he have railed against? He bounced, by his own admission, from one dead end cooking job to another as culinary superstars rose around him in New York City. It is time to move away from the morose, introspective bullshit. You are boring everyone.

To be fair, Ruhlman addresses some of the celebrity-chef backlash in The Reach of a Chef. However, ever notice no one ever says, "I hate Emeril because the food in his restaurants sucks"? It is because the food by and large is excellent. Granted, I've had some average meals at NOLA where it always seems to be spring training, but at Emeril's and Delmonico's, I've experienced nothing but fantastic food and service.

Besides his professional success, the man has always been at the forefront of philanthropic activities both in New Orleans and across the country. People will argue he didn't react to Katrina fast enough. And maybe so, but those days after Katrina were very confusing and we all seem to have forgiven the Mr. Benson.

End Rant.

See you Wednesday. We are going to see the Mardi Gras.

Go Big or Go Home

Today marks the beginning of the end of the most gluttonous and debaucherous seven week stretch that most of us have ever lived through. And hasn't it been glorious?

If you are looking for a way to go out with a bang, look no further than the trifecta of filet mignon, foie gras, and bearnaise. This specimen came from Galatoire's, but any restaurant is likely more than willing to create this concoction if the kitchen is stocked accordingly.

Too much too soon, you say? Nonsense. If there is one characteristic which native New Orleanians are known for, it's stamina. So don't hold back this weekend, because the last time I checked, Lent doesn't start till Wednesday.

Finish strong.

Camellia Grill

Camellia Grill, that much loved institution on Carrollton, turns out one of the better burgers in the city. The quarter inch thick patties certainly benefit immensely from their stay on the decades old griddle and its coating of bacon grease. Always order a cheeseburger dressed with grilled onions. Sometimes add bacon, but only when your diet isn't very demanding.

And here is a tip - the magic time to go before the morning rush. If you go after 9:30 you are doomed to wait, but earlier the hungover college kids and sleepy headed uptowners have yet to emerge from their cocoons. The last time we were in there, Lindsay got all excited by the "mac n' cheese bites" and had to have them. They were not good; just fried disks of imitation dairy. But after that brush with mediocrity, we had hankering for the real deal mac and cheese.

So I combed through some cookbooks and coddled this creation together. What you will like is that the richness of the sauce is tempered by the heat of the cayenne and mustard. Adding some hot sauce (especially Valentina) when you mix the pasta and the mornay (more on this latter) will only make this dish better.

If you want to learn how to make three quick cooking techniques, mac and cheese is a good tutor. A roux becomes a bechamel which begets a mornay. To begin, warm a quart of milk over low heat.

In a heavy bottomed pot, melt one stick of butter. When melted but not brown, add 1/4 cup of flour. This is the roux. Keep the heat low and stir for about two minutes. Then pour the warmed milk into the blond roux and whisk. When fully mixed (this is now called a bechamel), add a good pinch of salt, 8 grinds of black pepper, a teaspoon of cayenne, and a teaspoon of ground mustard. Stir and then add in 2 cups of shredded cheese, about one handful at a time.

Aside: Ok, you have gone to all this trouble, do not use some pre-shredded garbage that came in a plastic pouch with a resealable zipper that always breaks. Get some nice white or yellow cheddar, maybe some fontina, some provolone, shoot even blue cheese will work. A combination of cheeses is a winner as well.

Once the sauce thickens and cheese has fully melted (this is now a mornay sauce), add in one package of cooked pasta of your choice. Something small, like elbow macaroni (classic), shells (elitist), or bowties (whimsical?). Stir some more and pour into a buttered casserole dish or individual ramekins. Top with breadcrumbs, more cheese if you want, and some small chunks of butter.

Bake at 375 degrees until bubbly and brown. Can also be made ahead of time, then just bake off when ready.

Perfect for those who think diets are for quitters and Donnie Boy Riguez. Ooops, sorry to be redundant.

Farewell to Meat - Lorin Gaudin

Lorin Gaudin: Media Personality, Celebutante and International Raconteur
The Cut: Entrana con fina la Piel, from La Boca

In the New Orleans culinary underground, Lorin Gaudin knows where the bodies are hidden. She has been active in the New Orleans food scene for years and as a result has a finely tuned ear for New Orleans food gossip. She will probably kill us for saying this, but she has photos of Robert Peyton wearing little more than his trademark sweater vest, Docker's No Wrinkle Slacks, and a scowl.

This is not to say that she is a ginnywoman, but rather that she is well tuned into the stories and motivations of chefs and restaurants. You can check out Lorin on WDSU TV on Thursday afternoons and on WBOK 1230 am on Fridays from 2-3 where she dishes out platefuls of restaurant and food news.

So when we needed a final candidate for the Farewell to Meat series, we naturally turned to her. Lorin graciously agreed, and here is her take on what would be the perfect Mardi Gras dinner.

1) Where are you eating? La Boca

2) What cut of meat? Skirt steak with the skin on.

3) How cooked? The way it comes - juicy and cooked-through.

4) What else are you eating with it? Golf salad and those incredible garlicky fries with the green chimichurri.

5) What are you drinking with it? Whatever fabulous Argentinian wine Adolfo Garcia suggests.

6) What are you giving up for Lent? Bread. I figure Lent dovetails nicely with Passover when Jews give up eating anything leavened. Oh, did I mention I'm Jewish?

Ooh, Dreeeeaaaam Burger

Considering that most of my time these days is spent at the office, I am lucky enough to have co-workers who enjoy a fine meal almost as much as I do. One of these characters is Willy Wonka, a confessed chocoholic and self-proclaimed arbiter of overall good taste.

While Willy has dined in some of the nation's finest restaurants, he has an innate weakness for the simplest of foods: the hamburger. If there is a burger on the menu, chances are that he is ordering it. Kobe burger at Cafe Minh? Been there. Peanut butter burger at Yo Mama's? Done that. I think that Willy has eaten more hamburgers in the past 6 months than I have in the last 6 years. But of all the burgers in the city, one has stood above all others...

The Dream Burger at Elizabeth's in the Bywater has been christened by Willy as "the best in the city." As a lowly Oompa Loompa, I rarely question Willy's judgment (even if I disagree), but it's hard to argue with his assessment in this case. First, the beef is superb. Moist and flavorful with a heavy dosage of fat, it's tempting to order the basic burger with nothing but a light smear of mayo. But why go plain when you can have praline bacon? The criss-cross of sugary sweet pork belly may be unorthodox, but it works. Lastly, a sauce of blue cheese flows over the sides of the patty. Ask for extra napkins.

$10 gets you the Dream Burger and your choice of side, of which I would recommend the sweet potato and grit fries. Don't forget to save room for ooey gooey cake for dessert.

"These Are Strange and Beautiful Days"

Foreword: Food is the second to last thing on anyone's mind today. Work is obviously pulling up the rear. This also applies to blogging. Win or lose on Sunday, chances are we will not be posting on Monday morning. (You know how tired you are after a full weekend of standing up and getting crunk.) Seeing as we have a parade to attend on Tuesday, we will see you then.

I remember getting trounced by the Vikings in the '87 playoff game. I remember when I knew the entire cha-ching commercial. I remember Morten hitting that 60 yarder at the end of the first half of the '91 wild card game against Atlanta and thinking, "There is no way we lose this game." I remember losing to the Eagles at home in the playoffs the next year. I remember the Dome Patrol. I remember losing a lot in the mid to late 90s. I remember when we drafted Ricky and Ditka wore dreadlocks. I remember when Hakim dropped the ball. I remember sitting in Tiger Stadium and losing to the Dolphins, Bears, Bucs, and Panthers. I remember when Gleason blocked the punt. I remember the 12th man in the huddle and when Hartley hit the fleur de lis.

I could wax on about what it means for the Saints to finally make it to the Super Bowl, but you read enough of our gibberish already. Instead, I give to you a collection of stories written about the Saints in recent weeks. So if you want to really know what it means to be a Saints fan, ask the bank VP in Biloxi or the Metairie girl who will run the game ball onto the field in Miami. If you want to know what Drew Brees means to New Orleans, read what Peter King has to say. Whether its cancelling school or continuing trials, we will do whatever it takes to minimize "distractions" from the game. Don't forget to pay tribute to those who unfortunately never made it to see this day and don't let anyone tell you that "Who Dat?" belongs to anyone other than the fans. Our apologies to the Manning family, even though Peyton is a great guy and a great New Orleanian, on Sunday he is the enemy. So get ready Miami, the Who Dat nation is coming in full force, and we are not settling for anything less than a miracle.

Yesterday's failures are what makes today's successes so sweet. These are strange and beautiful days in New Orleans. Let's enjoy them while we can.

Restaurante Telemar

If you went to high school in New Orleans around the turn of the millennium, then you may remember a notorious party thrown by the Norton family at an abandoned warehouse on Earhart. Or you may remember that same warehouse a few years later becoming Daiquiri Island as the de facto spot to drink when you were under 21. Now that warehouse/daiquiri spot is Restaurante Telemar, a cramped, loud Honduran place turning out impeccable, flavorful cuisine.

Instead of chips and salsa, your meal begins with a Honduran nacho dish. Crispy house made tortillas fried golden are topped with creamy beans, tomatoes, some peppers, and a salty and delicious cheese (chihuahua, likely but there was something that may have been lost in translation).

They are perfect with cold beer - in this case, Port Royal from Honduras. No Coronas on this menu, thank God. Port Royal, a German style pilsner, has a refreshing, crisp taste which is perfect for this type of food. Latin American food is generally a beer cuisine (see also, Vietnamese), and that is just fine by me.

Lindsay got the chicken with plantains, which was out-of-the-park good. Tender, juicy, well-seasoned chicken, fried to a crisp, sat atop some plantains and was ringed by a crunchy, cabbage based slaw. Getting a crunchy piece of chicken skin with some tart slaw and then the sweet plantain, all in one bite was like winning the Lotto.

The tongue in red sauce took our taste buds on an entirely different fantastic voyage. The tongue had been braised in a cousin of a tomato based Creole sauce. Chunks of red, yellow, orange, and green peppers, some onion, and tomato stewed with spices added an addictive flavor to the tongue stew. The rice, slaw and big hunk of cheese did not hurt either.

What we loved about this food was how flavorful and soulful each dish was. The preparations showcased what is best about different home cooking techniques from various cultures. The dishes that take a lot of time to make (i.e., tongue) or are just really simple (fried chicken with plantains) are always the best representations of a nation's cuisine. And Telemar is representing. Now, if I could just wash it down with a Jungle Juice.

Restaurante Telemar - Birdie.

Farewell to Meat - Chip Flanagan

Chip Flanagan
Executive Chef, Ralph's on the Park
The Meat: Wagyu Rib Eye with cauliflower puree and grilled scallions

Chef Chip Flanagan has cooked in kitchens in New Orleans for years (plus a stint on St. Croix) and brings a unique "the cuisines of the world are my inspiration" point of view to Ralph's on the Park. His dishes present recognizable New Orleans foods in new light. For example, the Cajun Scotch Egg wraps boudin around a poached egg. Or the Oyster's Rockefeller Reprise in which a deliciously rich spinach custard is topped with plump, fried oysters that are then crowned by bacon studded bread crumbs.

When Flanagan first took over the reins at Ralph's, these ideas seemed out of place with management and ownership. Flanagan recalls sitting in a meeting and finally saying, "Listen, whenever there is change, we are going to lose people, but my food can bring more people in than we lose." That candidness and the ability to take risks has helped put Ralph's back on our map.

And the perfect example of this is the Japanese Wagyu on the menu. Wagyu beef comes from cows in Japan who spend their whole life living much like the Pope: they are fed alcohol, massaged, and kept happy. This results in a meat with more marble than Versace's Miami villa.

The Wagyu is $12 an ounce, but a 3 ounce order is sufficient for the most tender, soft, and pleasing meat in town. To cook, Chef Flanagan cuts a rectangular portion from the rib eye, seasons it with salt and pepper, and cooks it with no oil in a blue steel pan over high heat. The meat only cooks for around forty-five seconds per side resulting in rare to medium rare doneness. But trust us, you don't want to go further than this.

After cooking the meat rests before being sliced for final plating.

An up close view.

See those beautiful streaks of soft, white fat running through the meat? It tastes like Hartley's field goal felt.

To round out his meattidunal Mardi Gras supper, Flanagan would go with the lamb spare ribs with Worcestershire and satsuma glaze, and the City Park Salad. For dessert, he suggests either the Creme Brulee or trio of chocolates. And what to drink with all of this?

"Brandy. Just cuz."

For Lent, Flanagan isn't giving up anything so much as he will vow to exercise more. But don't expect him to stop tasting the Wagyu. "Giving up eating this meat would be too great a burden."

Behind This Door...

... is another world far, far away from the Uptown street on which it lies. No sign, no valet, no uncovered windows to peak through. Unless you're a Newman mom picking up your son from football practice, you're not going to find Gautreau's if you are not actively searching for it. Instead, you are likely to just drive on by, unaware of the fantastic food being served inside of this old pharmacy.

On the whole, the dining room is most often described as a "jewel box." The main dining room on the ground floor holds less than 100 seats, but the mirrored columns and tall ceilings contrive more space than is actually there. Trompe-l'œil creates curtains from beige tinged walls. You walk through the dining room to reach the bar in the back, whose lively atmosphere usually resonates off the pressed tin ceilings.

While the dining room is full of illusion, deception is undeniably absent from the menu. Descriptions of dishes read relatively straightforward, but what comes forth from the kitchen can only be described as "excellence in simplicity." Same goes for the number of dishes on the menu, which is short yet nothing seems to be missing. One would think it would be easy to choose from a list of 5 appetizers and 7 entrees, but that was hardly my experience.

In the appetizer section, crisp pork belly is augmented by a ying and yang duo of sweet roasted peaches and tart pickled onions. You can find crabmeat and gnocchi on a number of menus around town, but Gautreau's version is lighter than others while still retaining its richness in a sauce of parmesan cream, English peas, and chanterelle mushrooms. Meaty scallops are delicious in their own right, but that show was stolen by the bacon and corn relish on top and spicy beurre blanc underneath.

In the entree section, a peppery saute of chorizo and clams served as a base for a crisp filet of fresh snapper, the spicy renderings of the chorizo flavored each bite of swiss chard next door. The Folk Singer is no vegetarian, but the pergoies stuffed with wild mushrooms brought her one step closer to conversion. We were too full for dessert.

Gautreau's is a special place - from the hidden location and unique interior down to the amazing cuisine. Crossing the threshold of the doorway is akin to entering your own private club, but yet you wonder how everyone else knew to come here? People seem to find great food no matter what the location. As Rene says, "Here's to hoping it stays a secret."

Gautreau's - Eagle

Taqueria D.F.

If you're headed to the Super Bowl with a Spanish vocabulary solely consisting of "Bienvenido a Miami," you're in trouble. But instead of spending all of that money on Rosetta Stone, might we make a suggestion?

For lunch today, take an off-campus field trip down South Claiborne to Taqueria D.F., where a complimentary language lesson is always served with lunch. In this month's issue of OffBeat Magazine, we review this taco truck which serves some of the best lengua, barbacoa, and tripa this side of Mexico City. Yes, we understand that Cuban food is more prominent in the home of Super Bowl XLIV, but you need to start at the bottom and work your way up. Have you seen Scarface?

Just a 12 minute drive from the CBD, the D.F. dishes out tacos at a $1.50 per pop, cheap enough to allow you to sample the entire smorgasbord of delicious meats available. Now that's a working lunch that's both easy on the wallet and filling for your stomach. The $5 footlong crew at the office will be begging you to take them along next time.

As for how to say "Who Dat?" en Espanol, you're on your own for that one.

Taqueria D.F. - Birdie

Brunch at Fuel

Saturday morning. You wake up in a hazy state of mind, throw on a pair of jeans, ask yourself whether it was really necessary to order that third bottle of wine at dinner last night, and then wonder where your next meal is coming from. Grands biscuits just aren't going to cut it, and the thought of going out for something as simple as bacon and eggs seems futile. Showering requires too much effort, so Brennan's and the like are out. Where can you go?

Welcome to Fuel Cafe, a quaint Magazine Street coffee house whose brunch menu reaches beyond the standard fare.

Case in point, Fuel Benedict: jalapeno corn cake topped with slow roasted pork, poached eggs, and chipotle hollandaise. From my Twitter research, I believe this dish is a holdover from the tenure of Chef James Leeming, who left Fuel last October to open Coulis.

Here is what I love about this dish. (1) The jalapeno corn cake is a marked improvement from Holland rusks or English muffins in terms of flavor and texture. (2) An overly generous ladle of hollandaise flows over the cakes. (3) Slow roasted pork >>> Canadian bacon.

Fuel has taken a page from Elizabeth's playbook by serving praline bacon. Unlike the sticky syrup-like coating at most other restaurants, Fuel's version covers the strips with a layer of crushed pralines so thick that the result is more akin to a bacon candy bar.

Fuel also offers daily specials which are announced via Twitter. On a visit back in November, I had a hearty vegetarian Moroccan soup of chick peas in a tomato base with a dollop of yogurt. Delicious.

But truthfully, your best choice at Fuel isn't even made in house. Once upon a time, Chef Maribeth was in the kitchen at Fuel cranking out hand pies on a daily basis. She left the kitchen at the beginning of the year and is now out on her own, but her pies are still available at Fuel. It's all in the ethereal crust.*

In the past year there have been quite a few changes in the back of the house at Fuel, but for the most part the menu has remained constant. Sweet potato pancakes, shrimp and grits, and the aforementioned Fuel Benedict are still dished out on Saturday and Sunday till 3:00pm.

Fuel Cafe - Birdie

*Though we had been told otherwise, Chef Maribeth is not providing baked goods for Fuel. However, her hand pies are available on direct order from her new venture, Betty's Bake Shop. We apologize for our mistake due to misinformation. Lookout for more on these hand pies in the coming weeks, including a full report on whether it's true that Chef MB sold her soul to the devil in exchange for the recipe for a pie crust that good.

Krewe of Cork

Face it on Friday, February 5th you are not getting any work done. Ohhh sure, it may very well be your intention to get into the office, finish that summary of the Gomez case, work through lunch and then head home around four to start roasting a pig for Sunday.

But you and I both know what will really happen. You will get talked into going to a Pre-Saints Super Bowl Party on Thursday night where you will put to the test the Liquor before beer theory of international politics. You will wake up hungover on Friday, stumble into work at 10, realize no one is around but people talking about the Saints, you'll go to lunch at 11 and not go back.

Listen, I am not judging. I think that is awesome. But let me put a good idea out there. Join the Krewe of Cork. The Krewe parades on Friday Feb. 5th. The festivities begin with a lunch at the Court of Two Sisters, where wine is served. Then a walk around the quarter dressed in costumes, where more wine is consumed than the Pope's house on Thanksgiving, finally after the parade there is the King and Queen's Party, where yep more wine is served.

The Krewe of Cork has over 400 members, but none is more animated and excited about the parade than Patrick Van Hoorebeck. He describes the parade as a celebration of life's pleasures: champagne, white wine, and red wine. This year's Grand Marshall is Clovis Tattinger. If that name sounds familiar, it is because his family owns the Champagne Tattinger house. "Over the years," Van Hoorebeck explains, "I have lobbied Clovis to participate in the parade and for the Tenth anniversary he has agreed."

The best thing about the Krewe of Cork? You don't need to be a blue blood or a debutante's husband to join. Anyone can join, so why don't you? Membership includes all parade day events (lunch, parade, some beads, wine, after party, hotel lobby, round about four you gotta clear the lobby) and is $275. Plus, the Krewe of Cork sponsors monthly lunches where even more wine is served and a parade during the New Orleans Wine and Food Experience.

Lindsay and I will be parading this year and if any of you readers (ok reader) would like to join us, shoot us an email. We would love to put together a fun group of people who are looking forward to blowing off the greatest Friday of all time. The rumor is that ole Bobby Peyton and the Summertime Blues will be wearing nothing more than a single cork, strategically placed. However, Mr. Thomas will not be there this year due to a scheduling conflict.