On a Toot!—Expanded, New Orleans Edition
Sazeracs, Sazeracs Everywhere, And All of Them to Drink!
Welcome to “On a Toot!,” a new, occasional feature in which I try to remember some of the liquid highlights of the week, and other highlights in general. “On a Toot!” will only run on Fridays and will only be available to paid subscribers. We hope you enjoy it.
“The bar is packed all day long with New York debutantes, brokers, Newport dowagers, bad women who walk good dogs on Park Avenue, chic divorcees and college boys on toots.”—Daily News, 1937, describing the scene at the Ritz Bar in Paris.
My recent, brief trip to New Orleans—which I undertook in order to attend two events of very different tenor, an awards show and a memorial—did not begin promisingly. I missed the trophy distribution because United Airlines abruptly cancelled my Thursday flight, using the airline industry’s favorite lie, “weather.” (If a flight is cancelled due to weather, the airline is not accountable. So airlines are constantly seeing storm clouds where others see none.) Because of this, we had to rebook on a flight out of Philadelphia, reached via two trains and two car services. That connected through Chicago to a thrice delayed flight to NOLA…
I did walk away from this horrid experience, though, with some new knowledge: You won’t necessarily get a better Airport Martini in an airline club facility than an airport bar. My O’Hare United Club Martini was served on the rocks with a lemon wedge (not twist), and by the most ill-tempered bartender I’ve ever met. (It was the club in Terminal B, should anyone want to make a note to avoid it.) The same drink was much better at chef Michael Symon’s Bar Symon at the Philly airport. Better still was “Michael’s Manhattan,” which I will forgive for being on the rocks since it was made with Knob Creek bourbon and Alessio vermouth…
Friday’s drinking improved tenfold. It began with a Sazerac, Galatoire’s Cocktail and a split of Gosset Rose bubbles (one of my favorite Champagne houses), all lubrication for a long, festive lunch of Shrimp Remoulade, Turtle Soup, Chicken Clemenceau and broiled redfish with Crab Yvonne at the Bourbon Street Institution Galatoire’s. I passed on the unorthodox offer to have my Sazerac on the rocks. It wasn’t that hot. What was hot was the Café Brûlot, which was prepared table side with the requisite metal bowl and ladle and lots of attendant flames. I’ve had this New Orleans treat at Antoine’s and Arnaud’s prior to this, but found this version superior. Antoine’s and Arnaud’s put on a better show (read: bigger bowl, more fire), but Galatoire’s drink didn’t taste burnt—which is always the problem with Café Brûlot…