Cafe Adelaide

On Monday night I dined at Cafe Adelaide along with The Pope and the Battle House Honey, and I would have to say that my overall feelings on the restaurant are similar to Ian McNulty's. The intended playfulness of the menu just did not appeal to me, but the more "classical" dishes were well done. (I apologize in advance for not having pictures.)

The highlight of the meal was the shrimp remoulade salad with shrimp boil vegetables. This was a great little twist on a classic which worked wonderfully. Boiled potatoes, corn-off-the-cob, and shrimp tossed in a mellowed remoulade dressing. I could eat 4 or 5 orders of this and leave happy.

Unfortunately, all of the entrees missed. BHH had the shrimp and grits which were served head and shell on. The shrimp were beautiful and I personally have no problem with cooking shrimp whole, but how do they expect diners to tackle this dish at the table? I think that a better idea would be to cook the shrimp whole and then peel them before serving (possibly leaving the head intact). But what do I know?

I had the quail and waffles which was just too tough to eat. The "waffle" was just a slab of cornbread which served as a base for a whole quail, and then the entire mass was deep fried. Again, I was confused as to how to disassemble the dish, so I just started hacking away. From what I remember, the bird was mostly deboned besides the legs and wings, but those tiny bones still proved to be a nuisance.

Cafe Adelaide - Bogey.

After Work Today...

How about the Swizzle Stick Bar at Cafe Adelaide? A nice way to celebrate Hump Day or if you were born on October 1st, your birthday. They make a fiery Woodford Reserve Mint Julep. But why not dial it back to simpler, classic days of yore and order a Side Car. Rum, brandy, Cointreau, sour and lime poured into a sugared rim. Not to far removed from the beloved, but largely poorly done, Margarita. Plus you can watch the bartenders as they chip ice for your cocktail.

And if the mood strikes you, have dinner or sample the bar food. Cafe Adelaide gave birth to this blog, the least you can do is visit the dear old blog's mamma n dem. Ask them for a Legend: In a rocks glass mix 3 ounces of Grey Goose, 1 shot of Olive Juice, 3 Olives (for luck), a pack of Marlboro Lights, and a prayer. Shake and strain into a half full glass. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

Ode to Lost Sandwiches

The following list includes sandwiches dat ain't dere no more or ain't good no more:

1. Ruth's on Broad Street - Steak Po-Boy: Garlic bread, slathered in bearnaise, layered with sliced filet mignon, and topped with a few onion rings. Came with a side of shoestring fries for like $18. The devilish delight of eating a sandwich in a place so clubby, elegant, and borderline important elevated this sandwich to the realm of decadence. We can't talk about it anymore though, because we start to get teary eyed.
2. Parasol's - Roast Beef: Wow. Did we just say that? Yes. Here is why. On a recent visit $9 got me a barely 6 inch po-b0y dressed. Either I am getting bigger or those po-boys shrink every time I go there, both are strong possibilities. Look at the name of the sandwich again; its po-boy not rich-boy. A recent meal there caused Rene's arteries to swell up and his tongue to lose its ability to taste anything. The deer Rene had lunch with explained it best saying, "too f&cking salty." Maybe it is good on St. Patrick's Day, but what isn't?
3. Domilise's -The Whole Damn Menu: Again the prices are way to high for a po-boy. If you are going to stand in line for 2 hours, then the po-boy should be amazing. Everything at Domilise's is "just OK" except the roast beef which is not OK. We realize this is a neighborhood place, a place "you have to now what to get," a place where they "have to know who you are," and a place that people not from the Sliver by the River don't understand. And guess what, we are ok with that. All we are saying is if the Manning brother's had been fans of Parkway or Liuzza's, they are looking at a decade of Super Bowl rings instead of just two.
4. Jesuit High School - Chicken Sandwiches: On 10 minute break, a buck-fifty got you a plate of fries, a bag of milk, and a sometimes juicy, sometimes dry fried chicken sandwich. Sure, it's still there, but we arent.
5. Dino's Pizza (next to the Boot) - Was this a sandwich? Not really, but after leaving the Boot on 50 Cent (the monetary unit, not the rapper) Night, nothing was better. Folding over that grease laden flap of bread sodden with canned tomato sauce and stringy cheese provided much delight to Peter. And at the end of the day, it was bread, cheese, and sauce, that sounds like a sandwich to me. Plus, the place sowed the seeds of late night pizza love that most of us (OK, really just Rene) perfected in college.
6. Cafe Adelaide - $30 Po-Boy: We honestly can't remember exactly what made up this sandwich, but we think it went something like this: veal daube and a sunny side up quail egg with a truffle and foie gras emulsion. This po-boy first caught our attention on the Commander's Palace episode of After Hours when Ti Martin and Lally Brennan offered it to host Daniel Boulod as a challenge to his $30 hamburger. Peter tried to order it once over the summer, but alas it was no longer being offered because it clashed with the COOLinary menu. Maybe one day it will return.

If you can not make it to Iris, you can make it here

This looks like a lot of fun. Today Cafe Adelaide starts at 530. Ten bucks.



http://blog.nola.com/dining/2008/05/new_orleans_to_join_10_other_c.html

The Legend

This post will begin to outline some of the characters. Hopefully, they will continue their antics under the cloak of anonymity this blog will afford them. Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

The words of the older gentleman hung in the air. "Remember only one Ojen cocktail. Anymore is foolish."

The day had started innocently enough, I had lunched scheduled with Legend and Lady Luncheon at Cafe Adelaide. Originally enthralled by the promise of $.25 Martinis, our passions soon subsided when it took over 35 minutes for the college bar drink special to arrive. Regardless, the food tasted great and the carnival atmosphere made everyone excited (it being Carnival).

After lunch, Lady Luncheon returned to work. Legend and I contemplated what to do before I mentioned, "You know Luke is right around the corner we could pop in for a good, stiff drink, maybe some raw oysters."

"I don't know...French Quarter?" responded Legend.

"They have an amazing bar and some cute bartenders..." my words trailing off behind the now fleeing for Luke, Legend.

We sat down at the Zinc topped bar and ordered a round of drinks. Stella for Legend; a Sazerac for myself. Discussions revolved around the usual non-important stuff. For my next drink I went with the Ojen Cocktail. Legend upon tasting it decided he too would switch to the potent pink tonic.

As we sat there nursing our drinks, the father of a friend came over and remarked "Y'all drinking Ojens?"

"Yes sir," we replied.

"Good. Make sure you only have one of those, anymore is foolish."

Of course this advice, like all free advice, was not taken.

Next stop is the Old Absinthe House. Where we stumbled upon the following scene, women and men dressed to the nines (just escaping the Proteus lunch at Antoine's) and a movie being filmed. If there was any place in the world, we did not need to be right at that moment it was on that fateful corner.

After a few more rounds of drinks, I head back to Lady Luncheon who by this time is getting off of work. The following texts have been received from my phone from Lady: "Are y'all blackout? I don't want to deal with y'all if you are. Make sure you can make the Dr. John concert".
I ask Legend if he would like to go home and rest up for a little while. Legend assures me, while pointing to a matronly woman, "Dude, I'm fine...seriously if I was drunk she would be a lot
better looking and I would be hitting on her. Do you see me hitting on her?"

Fast forward 2 hours, Lady Luncheon and I arrive at Mr. B's to meet The Pope, Peter (a fellow contributor of this blog), Legend and some other minor characters. Suffice it to say, Legend has begun hitting on any women within a 15 yard radius. In the time I have left him, and the Pope and Peter took custody of him, approximately 6-9 vodka martinis have been downed by Legend.
Legend than committed that most egregious sin when dining in a group. No, not grabbing the waitress's ass or telling her, "You are going home with me." Rather, he boasted, "I had an incredible quarter. Dinner, wine, drinks... it is all on me."

Then turning to The Pope who was studying the wine list, "Order whatever, I got it."

We all struggled with the morality of taking advantage of Legend's obviously drunken offer of generosity, but then good sense overrode all of us. The collective, yet unspoken, decision of the group was to teach Legend a lesson.

We set about our task with the diligence of Germans, the enthusiasm of Frenchmen, and the
care free attitude of Italians. Fried oysters, Foie Gras, Gumbo Ya-Ya, Duck Spring Rolls, Filets with Truffle Butter, a blackened trout (Peter's), and other specialities arrived. The food service was outpaced only by the speed in which the $110 a bottle Oregon Pinots arrived.
Peter, struggling with his trout, attracted the attention of the waitress. "Was it not good?" she asked.

"Yeah, it was a bit overcooked, and well maybe I am a little over blackening things, a little blackened out if you will."

Almost as if on cue, Legend hearing the phrase "blackened out" stood up and began "I am not black out, I am fine. Don't judge me, lawyers, pleh..."

What followed amazed even The Pope. Legend proceeded to take two wobbly steps forward bow down once and say "In the name of the father", bow a second time saying "The son", and finally Legend hit the deck. But not before taking out an entire tray of waters that was being brought to a neighboring table.

Legend than proceeded to hide underneath a table, and say "Shhhhhh...it wasn't me, I am just going to go to sleep...Wake me when it's over."

Before putting Legend in a cab (and securing his credit card for the bill), I told him "Go straight home, do not stop at Fat Harry's, do not collect $200."

"F*ck you, Dad.... I knew I should have had just one Ojen."