Monday Morning, New Orleans
Don't forget to be kind to strangers. For some who have done this have entertained angels without realizing it.
--Hebrews 13:2
I'm back from NOLA, having faced the thrill of culinary victory at Bayona and the agony of defeat at the hands of those cheating, pretentious bastards at Peristyle. I can't help but compare the delightful experience that I had at Bayona, one of several, to the total disappointment in every possible way at Peristyle. I should have paid attention when Anne Kearney moved on, but Tom Wolfe, who took over, has a good reputation. I didn't do my homework, and the Zagat rating might not have been updated recently. Shame on me. It must have been my fault. Maybe I'm just not pretty enough. Maybe I don't exude star power (I'm working on that, see previous post on dietitian and trainer).
Let's compare them:
Our reservations were around 6 pm; no, not a fashionable hour, but it's all we could get at both establishments.
Bayona: a warm greeting when we arrive and we are whisked to a large table in pleasant surroundings, in a dining room that's approximately 1/2 full. We are greeted by our waiter immediately, get the extra info about the menu, and a wine list.
Peristyle: a cool appraisal by the host who tells us to have a seat as our table isn't ready yet - he tells us not to bother ordering drinks as we will be seated shortly. Several minutes go by.....finally we are escorted into a cavernous dining room that has only 3 other parties in it. We are seated immediately next to a couple, so close that I could reach over and sample her meal if the mood struck me. We were given menus and a wine list; the waitress arrived, god love her, and when we asked her about a couple of wines, we received a blank stare. She mumbled that she'd be back with an answer. At this point, I expected the sommelier to come over. Nope, she comes back with a wine recommendation that she must have acquired by means of a dart board. Or the sommelier yelled it out to her while on cigarette break in the back alley. It was a wine made for people who hate wine.
Bayona: It's hot and muggy, so we decide on a New Zealand Sauvignon blanc, but can't decide which one - we ask the waiter, who says that his favorite is the Spy Valley, if we're looking for something fresh and green. We talk about wine for a while, and then about dinner, and I notice that we aren't so much ordering dinner, we're really having a pleasant conversation about food. We talk about appetizers, and how they're prepared, and dinner, and the red snapper they have that night. It's obvious that the waiter has tried everything on the menu, knows the wine list as well as the sommelier (who was delightful), and takes his profession very seriously. He is there to make the dining experience special. Whether he thinks we know our ass from our elbow about food or wine is immaterial. He makes us, and the other people he's waiting on, feel like we do.
Peristyle: We place our order with the waitress, who though kind, is unenthusiastic to say the least. Keep in mind that the two restaurants have similar pricing - at this level food should be performance art. Whether the service is interactive, like Bayona, or unobtrusively efficient and perceptive, like the Rib Room, perhaps, you should feel pampered. Back to our story. The rolls come out, and you only notice rolls when they are really bad. Which these were. Dry, tired, uninspired. My crabmeat salad arrives and it's good, but not sublime. Dinner arrives. I had quail - in retrospect, an ordering mistake, but hey, who knew this place would suck so bad? The stuffing had so much tasso that it beat the living daylights out of the poor little bird. It was a little piece of smoked ham hell.
Bayona: The first round of appetizers arrive, a savory rhubarb tart with a foie gras mousse for Geoff, and seared scallops for me. Perfect. We split an order of Grilled Shrimp with Black Bean Cake and Coriander Sauce, which I've had there a few times - it's a fave. I had the best red snapper I've ever eaten, Geoff had a delicious Alsatian salmon - it was breaded and served on a bed of sauerkraut. After dessert and coffee I felt relaxed, happy and satisfied.
Peristyle: I could taste the imminent indigestion after the main course. Without speaking I could tell that Geoff felt the same - we skipped dessert and blew out of there asap, directly to the Hagen Daas for a much needed dish of coffee ice cream. We both felt cheated, angry and disappointed. Perhaps we visited them on an off night, but I wouldn't consider going back, since there are so many destination restaurants in town.
Maybe I'm being unfair, but I had to vent.
Labels: new orleans, restaurants
a surfeit of lampreys
