Shokufeh is... home

Breakfast at Brennan's

A few weeks ago, there was a story in the paper about the the executive chef of Brennan's and the restaurant's then-upcoming opening. Reading about this man, who has worked there for forty years, starting out as a dishwasher and working his way up through the ranks, was interesting. I felt like it was unusual for one of New Orleans' fine dining restaurants to hire a black man as its executive chef. While much of the great food in our city is cooked by black men, many of the positions of power and recognition, such as executive chef, are filled by white men. To me, it said a lot not only about Chef Randolph, but about Brennan's, that he is their executive chef. Reading about his cooking skills and personality made me all teary. As did the commitment to the restaurant staff after the storm. It made me want to eat there. So, we decided to celebrate Father's Day there, a morning late to avoid the crowds.

These days, at many of the city's restaurants, waitstaff are new and learning because they were new hires after the storm. But our servers this morning (we had two, seemingly assigned just to us), an example of Brennan's retention, have worked there several years and sounded happy to be a part of the restaurant's reopening. The food was yummy - I had a prix fixe: appetizer of strawberries with double cream, entree of Eggs Sardou (poached eggs, artichoke, creamed spinach, Hollandaise sauce), and dessert of Crepes Fitzgerald (prepared at our table), along with french bread (with butter), and decaf coffee. A rich meal, but not glistening with oil. (I like my calories hidden.) I wasn't hungry again for quite a while.

The staff was really nice, and attentive without being annoying. The host accurately guessed MrMan's age - apparently he's the same size as Nicholas Cage's seven month old son: they ate there last night. We were seated in a great spot - away from other patrons and close to a courtyard door, allowing us to frequently take MrMan outside. We thought he might be interested in the turtles in the pond, but what actually caught his attention were the cherub statues, maybe because they looked like people, but he could see that they weren't quite like the rest of us. (Why aren't they moving?)

It was nice to celebrate my dad, and the reopening of one of the restaurants that makes New Orleans New Orleans, with benefits to my mouth and tummy too.