Before I get started, thank you for your feedback! Last week, I asked whether links in my items were helpful, since they received very few clicks.
Overwhelmingly, readers responded that they are. Even if you don’t click while you’re reading the newsletter, links are good reference tools and bookmarks.
So, links will stay, and you’ll find some in this week’s newsletter. I appreciate your guidance.
Is It Still Exciting To Dine Out?
This week, I got to have lunch with my dear friend Simone Reggie at one of my favorite New Orleans restaurants, the High Hat Cafe. Simone was kind enough to bring me a tote bag filled with products from Tabasco, for whom she is the Southern ambassador. You can see the contents in this Instagram Reel @micki_in_nola, which seems to have delighted people who watch Reels.
During a previous High Hat visit, the owner, Chip Apperson, asked me if I was familiar with the late writer Jim Harrison.
Of course, I said. He was a famous resident of Michigan’s Leelanau Peninsula, where he wrote novellas such as Dalva and Legends of the Fall. In fact, my mother, a voracious reader, knew him and you couldn’t swing a cat on the Leelanau without hearing a Jim Harrison story. He was the very definition of a swaggering Alpha Male writer, in the Ernest Hemingway or Anthony Bourdain mode.
Chip knew I had written Satisfaction Guaranteed, and he had recently read Jim’s book of food essays from the 1980s and 1990s called The Raw and the Cooked. It includes a description of a massive sandwich that Jim ate during a trip to Zingerman’s Deli.
I had certainly heard of it, but I had never read it, so he brought it in for me to borrow. I dove in and was immediately struck by one of Jim’s observations about big city food choices. “New Yorkers, who are anyway a thankless lot, have no idea of the tummy thrills and quaking knees an outlander feels walking into Dean & Deluca, Balducci’s, Zabar’s, Manganaro’s, Lobel’s, Schaller & Weber, etc.,” he wrote.
Some of those places are no longer with us - to be honest, I had to look all of them up - and only a few remain as influential in the food world, as they were 30 years ago. You could argue that Goldbelly has become as much a purveyor of gourmet food as any of those legendary names.
I was more struck, however, by the idea that people would be so jazzed to shop and dine. That excitement seems like it went missing in the pandemic.
For much of the past half century, many upscale restaurants and food shops were as much about entertainment as they were about the actual ingredients. Any restaurant from any celebrity or celebrity aspiring chef certainly had an aspect of that.
If ordinary customers were a little intimidated, or felt the prices were higher than at home, that was part of the mystique. The idea for some was to create an image (now, we would call it branding) and make the guests believe they were being allowed into something special, if not exclusive.
But for a good part of the past two years, we were not allowed in anywhere. Many of us had to experience restaurants by proxy, either through carry out or delivery, or in some cases, meal kits that we prepared ourselves.
An entire feature that drives the restaurant world went missing. And it’s logical to ask: does it make a difference?
Vanishing service
Certainly, walking into those famous places was important to Jim Harrison. But he was writing at a time when cable TV was evolving. The Internet was in its infancy outside academia. There was no Amazon or Google, and smart phones were still a decade or more away.
Restaurants and food stores were entertainment in a way we may no longer need them to be. Our post-pandemic world seems to be proof of that.
This weekend, I read a piece by John Kessler that appeared in Gravy, the publication from the Southern Foodways Association. John, who is the dining critic for Chicago Magazine, began by recounting a visit with a loud group of friends to a Vietnamese restaurant. When no one was getting their act together to order, their veteran waiter took charge, and the result was a memorable event.
“The meal was it: the quality restaurant time we’d been needing for the past two years. It was like a great night from the Beforetimes, when my family, friends, and readers all felt so passionately about going out to eat,” John wrote.
But he went on, “Such experiences for me are now uncommon. In part, it’s because expensive restaurant fare has become less necessary since quarantine made me a better mixer of craft cocktails and shucker of oysters. But I wonder if the main difference I’m noticing is in service. It’s like a tacit understanding between server and guest has been altered.”
He concluded, “I just don’t feel as well taken care of these days.”
I have to agree. In my first weeks in New Orleans, I’ve been returning to some of the places I’ve loved on previous visits. In most cases, I’m treated like Dolly Levy making her grand entrance at Harmonia Gardens, and even those where I am eating for the first time, I’ve gotten a warm welcome.
But on one occasion, I sensed that our server was disengaged. I always try to be considerate of restaurant staff; I know it’s a difficult job, and I don’t want to be that customer. I know that when you dine late, people are tired and the kitchen is running low.
However, this was at the beginning of service, and I wanted the restaurant to have that anticipatory buzz of a new evening. Our server, though competent, just didn’t seem interested in us, or in telling the story of the dishes they were serving. We left feeling like we hadn’t gotten the experience we’d hoped for.
A collective effort
To me, dining out is a group effort: a customer who wants to be there, connecting with hosts and servers who are happy to see them, and a creative atmosphere behind the scenes where everyone can do their best work. I know some restaurant veterans are probably smirking at my idealism, but that’s what I am hoping for when I go out.
If you can make a personal connection, that’s even better. Robert, on the left in the photo above at Casamento’s, gave us extra attention in the midst of shucking what had to be hundreds of oysters on a Saturday night.
Sadly, the pandemic made that more difficult to achieve. “At many restaurants, service has become mechanical. You pull up a QR code–enabled menu on your device, the waiter arrives masked and distanced, and you order,” John wrote. (Things in New Orleans have been a little warmer, but I have seen this elsewhere.)
Moreover, we don’t even have to physically go there any more. Delivery apps and the Web have dulled the intimidation factor. You needn’t fear you aren’t cool enough to dine at Zahav and you don’t have to wait weeks for a reservation. You can just tap on your phone and food will arrive.
Without the thrill or comfort that restaurants provide, I can stay home and cook, or get another round of Uber Eats, which I’d just as soon not do, because the prices just seem astronomical for very little food.
No help for restaurants
Last week, the U.S. Senate failed to approve the $42 billion lifeline that the Independent Restaurant Coalition was seeking. Remember that I told you it was not a slam dunk, but the vote fell by a greater margin than some industry people were expecting.
The IRC issued a dire news release afterward, predicting that half of the 173,000 restaurants waiting for a grant are likely to close without the assistance, which would have been the fourth round of aid for in two years.
“Local restaurants expected help and the Senate couldn’t finish the job,” huffed the group.
It’s painful to see favorite places close, but I’m wondering if the public isn’t sending a message by its lack of alarm. The expectations that we had of restaurants before the pandemic aren’t being met - and it’s possible that after making do for two years, we don’t actually need what they provided before.
The places that figure it out will be the ones that keep going, and where the thrill that Jim Harrison once felt returns. It is possible, after all. Zabar’s is still thankfully still in business, and I know my heart will beat faster when I can return. I now can’t wait for Labor Day, when Casamento’s returns from its annual summer vacation.
Is there a restaurant or food place that still gives you the flutter that Jim Harrison felt? Let me know, I’d love to hear about them.
New Digs For Old Friends
One of the places where I have been treated like Dolly is Coutelier, the beloved knife and kitchen gear store with shops in New Orleans and Nashville.
They have been a friend of the newsletter, and recently expanded the original store here, so I stopped in to see the new digs at 8600 Oak Street and say hello to owners Jacqueline Blanchard and Brandt Cox.
The expansion is just beautiful. The cozy vibe remains, but there is a bigger selection of everything from cookbooks to Japanese gourmet ingredients and of course, knives. There is plenty of space now for demos, and it will be a great location for author events.
The shop is a few blocks down Oak Street from the first location; keep driving or walking and you will come across it. And, you can order from their expanded selection online, too.
If you are in the mood for gelato when you visit, you’ll want to find the new location of Piccolo Gelateria. It moved from its original spot on Freret Street, where it opened in 2016, over to 4500 Magazine Street. (Walk a few steps south of Magazine on Jena Street to find the entrance).
This is true Italian gelato, fresh made by owners Ria and Ross Turnbull every day. They use real ingredients, such as seasonal fruits (I had red peach and strawberry last week) as well as top quality chocolate and espresso, brewed in house.
Ria told me that business has been much stronger in the new location, and I could see it. In the half hour that I ate and chatted with her, at least eight groups of customers came in, of all generations.
They’ve just switched to their summer hours, so tuck into a nice meal somewhere and go to Piccolo for an after dinner treat.
We have a winner!
I’m delighted to announce the winner of the Mosi tea giveaway. It is Stacy Small, the CEO and founder of the Elite Travel Club.
She writes, “I recently moved from Maui to Marin County, am originally from Rochester, N.Y., was the founding editorial director of Elite Traveler Magazine, am a serial dog rescuer, a reiki master healer, and the author of ‘Why Not Me?!? 12 Lessons a Year on an Island Taught Me About Living My Dreams.’ Hard at work on the sequel, titled ‘A Little Bit Spiritual, A Little Bit CEO.’”
Mosi will be sending her the prize package. I have multiple giveaways lined up for this summer, too.
You can easily become eligible by joining the CulinaryWoman Community. Simply upgrade your free subscription to one of our paid options.
You receive an advance look at what’s in the newsletter each week, and you support the newsletter. I truly appreciate our community members and our giveaways are simply one way to say thank you.
Keeping Up With CulinaryWoman
I got some exciting book news last week. First, the Wall Street Journal review gave Satisfaction Guaranteed a nice bump in sales, and brought the newsletter some new subscribers. Welcome to everyone who has discovered it and us.
Second, my book will be coming out in paperback next year! I will have more details to share down the road, but it’s an opportunity to connect with more readers. I especially want students to be able to access the book, given all its business and life lessons (and food stories).
You can reach me at CulinaryWoman at gmail dot com. I’m always happy to receive story ideas, but I don’t honor embargoes and as someone who lives a sober lifestyle, I do not write about alcoholic beverages.
Covid cases are trending upward again. Every day, I see a social media post from someone saying that they finally tested positive. (So far, so good for me.) Get a booster if you are eligible and consider wearing a mask if they are recommended.
Happy Victoria Day to our Canadian readers! Stay well, and see you next week.
While I don’t have any warm and welcoming type of restaurant story to share of late, I was taken back to one particularly over-the-top restaurant experience from the past, sparked by your description of that era. For me, that would have been the Quilted Giraffe in NY, Barry Wine’s restaurant, back in the 80’s, early 90’s. A good friend of mine had become close friends of Barry and his wife in Poughkeepsie, where the original Quilted Giraffe began. I will never forget the first time he took me there. The service. The people watching. The “show” as it were. The oh-so-trendy small bite seven course tasting menu served on very expensive china, on very expensive linen. But that was the key word:expense. This was the consummate expense-account experience. I have to say however, I can still remember those exquisitely delicate beggar’s purses of caviar that they served. So delicate the pastry literally fell apart in your mouth with almost no assistance, releasing a pop of salty fresh caviar for you to enjoy. While beggar’s purses became a “thing” I never had one that was anywhere nearly as exquisitely delicate as Barry’s were. And yes, he was usually there, working the room. Definitely a memory from another time, another place.
We dine out very infrequently now, and so many places we went to regularly fell victim to the pandemic. The places we still go to, the service might be slow due to staff shortages, but they are genuinely happy to see us, and make us feel special. I’m so happy that you like the High Hat. If we fly into NOLA around lunchtime, once we’ve picked up our rental car we drive straight there for lunch, even before we go to our hotel. Love their fried catfish.