Showing posts with label Gumbo. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gumbo. Show all posts

Saturday, September 10, 2011

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]




















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Sunday, December 6, 2009

Microgump: Lunch at The Club


Although I gather that most of the members of this nouveau-literary venture are probably not currently members of "The Club" or are former members currently on "sabbatical" for a variety of tawdry reasons, that should not exclude a review of the fare at fine gentlemen's clubs within the inner circle of Montgomery proper, what some of you refer to as "The Gump." Therefore, I have taken it upon myself, Chesterfield Northfield Allpots (my friends call me "Chase"), to report upon a gentlemen's lunch at "The Club." Like my friend and visiting Irish MP, Bustafer Jones, Esquire, we have enjoyed the witty banter found in some of these web postings, or "blogs" as you say, but we fear those not fortunate to be from this area will gain the wrong impression that lunch in Montgomery is only about, and I shudder to say it, "meat and three" pubs with the "meat" usually being Southern fried chicken. So forgive us in advance in recounting today's (Friday 4 December) lunch at The Club.

After Bustafer and I motored past the iron gates and guard house along the tree-lined entrance to the circular drive and portico we were are greeted by our tuxedoed doorman who bowed as he bade us entrance into the grand foyer of "The Club." Seated at the long "Captain's Table," were indeed the captains of local law firms, medical practices and mercantile businesses discussing the stock market, politics and their beloved Alabama football. [Some were prattling on about some upcoming match with some amphibians from Florida as I recall] Of course, there were no discussions of "business" as such crass conversation is as strictly prohibited as are those awful mobiles and Blackberry devices "businessmen" find essential these days. (Derisively described as "Crackberries" by the younger members). As we chatted I noticed the beautiful view outside of a perfectly manicured 18th hole still green from the freshly planted winter rye. Perfectly lovely to see (and to drink I might add).

In the "Gentlemen's Grille" the fare was simple and elegant like many of the members. A pot of steaming seafood gumbo with bowls of rice and fresh cornbread muffins at the side quickly allowed the sharp set BJ some relief. Of course, the staff--knowing all--had already placed my favorite adult beverage at an open space recognizing who at the table I would not care to share my lunch with because of slights and offenses occurring to and taken by past generations. ("Why that boy is not trustworthy. You know his grandfather shot at a low bird at a dove shoot at the Home Place back in '53) These are long-time staffers so wise that every statement, no matter how inane, vapid or cliche, elicits the retort: "I heard that." (BJ remarked--and I certainly agree--that the Zen of such a remark is profound). Such attentiveness--before the food even was partaken--sets a tone that is unmatched at public eateries anywhere. And while you eat the staff will even be so kind as to carry the fine Irish whiskey (Midleton of course) you have purchased for your upcoming Christmas party to your vehicle.

BJ and I chose to stay with only the gumbo and a salad from the salad bar. We are not ones prone to gluttony. But, if a full buffet is desired, a short walk into the "Gold Room" reveals tables brimming with salad fixings, vegetables and meat selections. A carving station for beef brisket and a tureen of chicken noodle soup provides a "finish line" for those making it down the entire length of the table. On one wall is a selection of desserts, brownies, tarts and cakes all fresh from the nearby kitchen. And all of this, with tea, for a paltry 10 USD with no tipping allowed. Why, that's only 5 shares of local bank stock. At our house we have taken to using such certificates to start fires in the hearth.

Rubbing elbows and bantering with gentlemen as they dine has a way of calming the nerves and bracing one for spending the rest of the day clipping coupons or playing a round of golf in December while your friends in the north freeze. All said, a fine way to lunch when you want to get away from the rabble. The food at The Club is always good and reasonably priced. The service outstanding. Occasionally, the conversation is even interesting. When it is not, CNBC or ESPN are always available distractions on the wall-mounted flat screen HDTV Tellys. Bustafer and I rated lunch at The Club this Friday very high. Four of five golden cufflinks. Bustafer said it reminded him of his club on St. James' Street in Dublin--minus all the bad dental work.

Some of you are probably thinking that it is not fair to rate a place so few may enjoy. At one time that may have been the case. However, I understand that today, our local clubs are experiencing membership problems due to the economic situation and whatnot such that membership "deals" abound and initiation fees are the lowest in years. Most clubs also have open membership. But if one can find a minority member to overcome the popular "stigma" associated with private clubs in the South you should invite them to consider joining. So I say "cherrio" and "carry on" to our local clubs and I say to you, there is no time to join like the present. Mixing with the crowd may ground us and make us feel like one of them, but an occasional lunch in the lap of luxury among "members" with staff you consider to be friends feels like home to me every now and then.

---Chase N. Allpots with the kind assistance of B. Jones, MP, Esq.