Atypical Luncheon Conversation Between Gumpy Old Men at Roux (with apologies to Saki).

[Alas, they were too late. Roux is now True.  The silver lining is that True--and I dined there last evening--is hitting on all cylinders. I enjoyed my lamb loaf with sweet potatoes and I normally don't eat sweet potatoes. Ed. 10/20/2012]

The Archives Office clock reached eleven with the respectful unobtrusiveness of one whose mission in life is to be ignored until 4:59 p.m.  Without so much as a “Tah” to his assistant, our career management level Statey, one Whiggin Blanquet, rose from his calculations of his DROP payment at his faux-wood desk, grasped his walking stick and strode out the door to his near-by reserved parking spot. He quickly drove off toward his favorite lunch spot in Cloverdale—Roux—where he was to be treated to lunch and to a rare conversation with his foil/counterpart, one Chase N. Allpots, the decayed gentleman from Ireland.

“I’m starving,” Whiggin Blanquet announced, making an effort to sit down gracefully and read the menu at the same time.

“So I gathered,” said his Irish host, “from the fact that you were nearly punctual.  Perhaps I ought to have told you that I am now on an Atkins diet.  In your absence I’ve ordered two bowls of gumbo and rice without the rice and a truffle pasta salad without the truffles and pasta. I hope you don’t mind.”

Blanquet pretended afterwards that he did not go white above the collar line for a fraction of a second before he realized Allpots was trying to make a joke.  He was saved when he saw the waiter approaching with two cups of gumbo with rice piled above the rim and his favorite truffle pasta salad that he one day hoped would be named for his boyhood pet and beloved truffle-hunting piglet: Mortimer. (For a prior post mentioning dear Mortimer, click here.)

This little pig could hunt

Whiggin Blanquet breathed a sign of relief.

“All the same,” Blanquet said, “you ought not to joke about such things. There really are such Atkins people.  I’ve known people who’ve met them. To think of all the adorable things there are to eat at this restaurant and in the world and then to order and go through life munching tofu and being proud of it.”

“These Atkins people are like the Flagellants of the Middle Ages, who went about mortifying themselves,” Allpots sniffed.

“They had some excuse,” Blanquet said. “They did it to save their immortal souls, didn’t they? But as for these Atkins dieters, you needn’t tell me that a man who doesn’t love pasta and bread and truffles has got a soul, or a stomach either.  He’s simply got the instinct for being unhappy highly developed.”

Blanquet and Allpots relapsed for a few golden moments into tender intimacies with a succession of rapidly disappearing shrimp and truffles.

“I think shrimp and truffles are more beautiful than any religion,” Blanquet resumed presently. “They not only forgive our unkindness to them; they justify it, they incite us to go on being perfectly horrid to them.  Once they arrive at the lunch-table they seem to enter thoroughly into the spirit of the thing. There’s nothing in Christianity or Buddhism that quite matches the unselfishness of a shrimp or a truffle.  Do you like my new tie? I’m wearing it for the first time today.”

“It looks like a great many others that I have seen lately, only worse,” said Allpots.  “And you really should try to avoid marginalizing religions by comparing them to shrimp or truffles.”

“Touche,” said Whiggen Blanquet once again mindful that the skin-flint Allpots was actually treating him to lunch for a change.  “To what do I owe the honor of this fine occasion?”

Allpots became apparently serious and lowered his voice saying: “We may not agree on much—or even enjoy each other’s company for that matter—but we do agree on one thing: Roux for lunch.  And those of us with the sense to know True Banh Mi from a Taco Bell burrito must patronize our fine lunch spots to keep them here when we need a Shrimp Ceasar Po’boy or Tuna “Nicoise” Salad with a Pimm’s Cup.”

Dear me, Blanquet thought to himself, Allpots has found something worth supporting with his purse and the old boy had a point.

“Well then, “ said Blanquet finishing off the last bit of pasta, “I shall show my support for the cause by ordering one of those divine Shrimp Caesar Po’Boys and a Vodka martini.”

Allpots wiped the trace of gumbo and the beginnings of a smile from his lips, and slowly lowered his dexter eyelid.  Which, being interpreted, probably meant, “Not on my tab.”

(For info on Saki: http://www.online-literature.com/hh-munro/)

First Abita Beer Dinner at Roux Worth Going Toux.

[Ed. Note: Roux turned into True and now is A&P Social.]

The LITG Board of Directors was meeting in August to discuss the timing of our IPO when the Gumphone Rang with a tip from the French Consul General to the Gump--one Michelle Pompidou--explaining in broken English that there would be an event at Roux in September that he was inviting LITG to attend and review. We put him on the speaker as he struggled to describe something about what sounded like a "bear dinner" at Roux.  Of course, knowing the proclivities of Misseur Pompidou (the proud bastard son of a former president of France) he could easily have meant a "bare dinner" (au natural of course).  We certainly never expected him to mean a "beer dinner."

Anyway, I volunteered to accept the invitation with our Franco-friend which was set for September 7 at 7. I managed to scare up a date with an out-of-warranty (as NGNG would say) socialite and we arrived on time to discover we were about to attend what was billed as an "Abita Beer Dinner" a/k/a a "Food & Beer Shindig." You Southerners, like my Irish brethren, have a remarkable talent for inventing words or a turn of a phrase.  I had heard the word "shindig" before but, frankly, did not have clue as to what it was or how it applied to a beer dinner, whatever that was.  Was there to be a hoe-down?  Square dancing?  Yee-haws and the lot?  Fortunately not.

Indeed, what we experienced was in fact nothing short of a fabulous five-course meal that equaled any "wine dinner" I had attended but which utilized Abita beers from New Orleans as the common denominator.  At $40 per person the cost was also quite reasonable which allowed me to treat and impress the post-debutant socialite.  Not enough unfortunately.  But there always is next weekend. My host, M. Pompidou, arrived marinated in Bordeaux with a foxy date half his age and some cotton magnate and his new bride. Seeing Pompidou and his date reminded me of his friend DSK and that I should try very hard not to mention anything about that. Back to the review...

A group of about 30 diners were greeted by Abita representatives and Chef David Dickensauge all who hail from New Orleans.  I cannot even describe how Pompidou pronounced the chef's name, but it caused his date to giggle each time. In any event, Dickensauge and the representatives chatted up every table during the meal.  We were all impressed to know the Chef has been in the restaurant business since the age of 15 when someone at Commander's Palace apparently saw a spark in the waif from the local Boy's Club. In fact, he has worked at some of the best restaurants in the country, sometimes without pay.  Roux is his first attempt at running his own place. Given that his staff had to manage over 150 plates of food delivered to the entire group five different times speaks volumes for his management.


The first course was a seafood and andouille sausage gumbo made with Abita Restoration Pale Ale.  One of the Chef's secrets is that he always makes his gumbo with beer and chicory coffee. Although in the past the timing and temperature of some dishes were questioned, on this night the gumbo was the perfect temperature and delicious. If you did not know, the Restoration Ale was developed after Hurricane Katrina and a dollar was contributed to the recovery for each six pack sold.
  

 The second course was Abita Amber Beer battered scrimps with a Roux slaw and Bloody Mary cocktail sauce. The beer for each course was served just before the delivery of the food and the pairing of beer and food was phenomenal.

 
Chicken drunken by Jockamo I.P.A. comprised the third course.  It was accompanied with with buttermilk glazed carrots.  The term "I.P.A." refers to "India Pale Ale" which was invented to withstand the long travel from Brittain to the colonial troops in India. The secret is the addition of hops.

The fourth course was Purple Haze Braised Short Ribs with collard greens and pinto beans. We cut the meat with a fork.  It was outstanding.  As was the "purple" beer.

 
The dessert was an ice cream made from the foam of Abita Root Beer and cake topped with Turbo Dog Cookies.  By this time Michelle could only speak French.  I remember he was saying "manifique" a lot.

It was, for all concerned, a memorable evening and dinner all well below the Frazer Lanier line.  I am pleased to report that whenever you next hear of a second Beer Dinner at Roux you need to jump on it "Like a June Bug" as you Southerners are prone to say. While we did not have any "bear" nor did anyone get "bare" and it may not have been a "shindig," it was nevertheless a great experience and fine meal in the heart of the Gump. I hope they have many more.

Cheers!

[PS. Words in bold print can be found in our LITG Glossary]

ROUX HOUX!! NEAUX-CLEAUX HAS A GREAT NEW CHATEAUX DE GUMBEAUX!!!!!

[Ed Note: 01/18/2012: Roux is now True and True is even better than Roux]

First, let's get one thing straight. Well, a few things straight. (1) I like to catch fish by the boatload. (2) I like to shoot multiple species of ducks. (3) I like classic cocktails, expertly built, with loving care, by professionals. (4) I like to gamble in proper casinos, not amongst pensioners playing nickel machines in "bingo" joints. (5) I like great music played by sweaty-ass musicians in smoky-ass bars who care more about how they sound than how they look. (6) When I say, "Hey, how about a look at those ta-tas," I like having better than a 50-50 chance of actually getting to see 'em.  (7) I like carefree natives who have nice boats, talk funny and who are full of shit. (8) I like having an active Powerball lotto ticket in my billfold at all times (it comforts me).  And (9) I like great food cooked in the creole/cajun style.

By my count, that's 9 out of my top 10* favorite things and I can only think of one place in the whole world where you can score "9" on the Bidgood Bob Pleasure Meter over a three-day weekend without having to cross any state lines or break any laws... and that squishy little slice of heaven is called THE GREAT STATE OF LOUISIANA. 

Next to Pine Bar on Cloverdale Rd...
make a night of it.

Now, unfortunately, the economy being what it is I can't just drop what I'm doing and haul ass to the Bayou State every time I get the urge for something that tastes good, sounds funny or ends in an "X." That's why I'm delighted to report that the Gump Guinea Pigs survived, the full review is complete and the verdict is in. Make a reservation, get your ass to Roux and wallow in it, baby.

First things first: They don't call me "Bidgood Bob the Gumbo Snob" just because I went to a couple of Sugar Bowls when I was in college. I am a student and protege of Chef John Folse and LITG's own Whig in a Blanket, who has taught me the art of the roux and the science of great gumbo for over two decades. When I tell you that Roux owner/chef David Dickensauge knows gumbo, this is not idle praise and I'm not kissing his ass just to get a free bowl (although I wouldn't dare want to hurt David's feelings by refusing one). Fresh lump crabmeat, claws, shrimp, oysters... done just right and about the color of a grocery sack. Keep your hands off the hot sauce... it don't need nothin' else on it nor in it.

Here's the deal... every time I've been to Roux I had the gumbo and I truly can't remember if they put any rice in there or not. I was drinking all three times. Be that as it may, they certainly didn't use a big wad of rice to make the gumbo go farther or to pad the profit margins. As I remember, with that much seafood there wasn't much room for starch.

Oh, one more thing about the Roux gumbo -- there's no okra in it, which is fine by me because I never liked the slimy little bastards anyway.

We are pretty sure Roux is rapidly getting through the early-stage jitters service-wise, but there are sure to be horror stories from any new restaurant's baby steps. My favorite from Roux's opening week came from a pal who ordered a Mojito which arrived from the bar "dirty," with four olives and some olive juice instead of lime juice and fresh mint leaves.  Well, not wanting to be an ass about the whole thing he drank it anyway, kinda liked it, ordered another (made it a double, extra dirty), drank that one, then ran next door to the Pine Bar and mashed his bare butt cheeks up against the window, to the delight of the sophisticated clientele there.

Anyway, back to the "restaurant review." Last Friday night Roux was jam-packed when Reginald McLucid, Doc NBA and I took our sport-model precious adorables out for drinks & dinner & more drinks (in that order). Even though we were a tad late and roaming around like a herd of kittens after pre-gaming at the aforesaid Pine Bar, the Roux staff still hit it out of the park. They let us meander, kept our drinks full and all-in-all managed very well on a hectic night.

Cool salad on a hot night.

The food? Oh, yes. Almost forgot about that, even though we did go there primarily to eat. In addition to the aforementioned gumbo, among other things we had Devils on Horseback, Alabama Watermelon Salad (see right), fried oysters, crab claws, and that was just the appetizers. For dinner we had Seared Romesco Scallops (with macquechoux, a favorite of mine), Roux BBQ Shrimp (see below), something called "Chicken Mar I Muntanya" and some other stuff I can't remember. They have a prime rib that they cook on the rib, then slice, then rub with a top secret concoction, then sear. Damn. We all shared and nobody bitched about the food, service, portion size or price (like I said, though, we were hitting the booze pretty hard and were mostly agreeable).

Roux BBQ Shrimp. Lobsters, more like it.

Note on the Roux BBQ Shrimp (shown at left). This dish is nothing like the very excellent BBQ Shrimp served at Jubilee Seafood, one of our all-time Gump favorites. The Roux BBQ Shrimp is more like the classic New Orleans dish (nothing even remotely "barbecued" about it) made famous at Pascal's Manale, with massive fresh shrimp and this sauce that's, well, let me tell you about the sauce... I wanted to tell the waiter, "Looka here, you need to bring me about five loaves of french bread and get all of these people out of here, because I am about to take off my shirt and sop up every drop of this sauce that's in the room right now." I wanted to, but I didn't.

Then there was the "shrimp." I really can't believe the lucky shrimper didn't have those big boys mounted. They must have put up one hell of a fight. If I ever landed a shrimp that size you can bet your ass he'd be over my mantel. Hard to believe they were so tender.

Excellent coffee and beignets topped it all off. We left happy and eased back to the Pine Bar for nightcaps. There we joined in the cosmopolitan atmosphere of sidewalk dining, drinking and conviviality on a starlit summer night among the beautiful people, not a one of whom was aware of our status as fairly recent parolees.

Overall a very nice night in this here Gump.



* My other favorite you can do pretty much anywhere there's a golf course.