Restaurants have always been my favorite form of entertainment. Restaurants are to me what the NFL, The Met, and rock concerts are to other people. Before I go any further let me make one thing clear. Chains suck! They are not restaurants, but food service operations. They are even referred to as “stores” by their own people, so that give you some idea of their mindset.
When I walk into a real restaurant for the first time, I feel a sense of anticipation and discovery that here, could quite possibly be the hidden treasure, the quintessential dining experience, the Mecca of food. Most of the time it doesn’t usually turn out to be quite that good, it can still be a good experience.
We all know about the great and the famous, like Spago in LA or Le Bec Fin in Philadelphia, or Commander’s Palace in New Orleans, but great as they are, I’m not talking about this kind of place. In my opinion, the real essence of the restaurant business is found in those lesser-known places that quietly flourish like little jewels in the local landscape. You have to find them before you can enjoy them.
It’s a lot easier today than it used to be with Zagat’s and the Internet to help you. You don’t usually have to “know somebody” to steer you in the right direction so the obscure has become less obscure. This is reflected in the longer waits and higher prices at some of these heretofore little known treasures, but that’s OK. It’s still worth it.
When I look back at some of my great dining experiences they’ve been in those kinds of places. Its like a litany of wonderful eating, the world’s greatest fried chicken at Stroud’s in Kansas City, the quintessential soft shell crab poorboy or fried oyster sandwich at Casamento’s on Magazine St. in New Orleans, the awesome Chinese vegetables at the House of Nanking in San Francisco, and the great beef at Chimichurri Grill on the west side of new York City. Funky, high energy, little places that you had to go out of your way to find.
We all have that favorite little spot around the corner where the T-bone is crusty and perfectly cooked, the martinis are cold and dry, and the owner knows your name. Places like this give you have a sense of connection and comfort, a feeling of belonging.
There is a chemistry about a good restaurant that is hard to define. Every formula is different, and what may work in one location could be a disaster in another. A good restaurant is a blend of food, ambiance and service that works. It is a place of quiet confidence, but never complacency. The staff is happy you are there, and lets you know it. If I detect any degree of pomposity I’m out the door.
The era of the small family run restaurant may be coming to an end. The cost of opening and running a single location, high quality restaurant is becoming astronomical. Labor, liability insurance, and shrinking profit margins are reducing the number of small restaurants every year. Long hours, stress, and those other life style considerations peculiar to the restaurant industry are turning people into other occupations, and frankly you have to be an idiot, with masochistic tendencies to go into the restaurant business.
As a restaurateur it is fortunate that I am a masochistic idiot, because I’ve had an awful lot of fun doing what I’ve been doing. Fortunately for all of us there are still enough idiots out there to keep the simple idea alive that the bottom line isn’t only about money, but tradition, pride, service, and quality. Long live the “Real Restaurants” and enjoy them while you still can.

The most requested of all our recipes over the years at the Continental Divide, and now at The Mint is for our “ house “ Cajun Pecan dressing. We are surprised that the FDA hasn’t tried to made this a controlled substance as there are quite a few documented cases of addiction to this wonderful salad dressing among our former customers. We even thought about bottling it but decided that the taste was never quite the same as the fresh product so we gave up the idea. Try a batch of this spicy, sweet and sour concoction on some fresh greens and you’ll be hooked too.

Dressing:

1/3 C honey
1/3 C toasted pecans
1/3 C coarse ground mustard
1 t cayenne
1/3 c red wine vinegar
4 C canola or peanut oil
3/4 C water
3/4 t salt

Garnish For Salad

Red Bell Peppers thinly sliced
Sweet Red Onions thinly sliced
Toasted ½ or whole pecans
Butter
Popcorn salt
Cayenne Pepper

In a sauté pan on high heat melt some butter. Add the pecans and cook until they are well browned but not burned, tossing frequently. Just before removing from the heat sprinkle a small amount of the salt and cayenne to taste. You’ll have to experiment to the spiciness level that you desire. Drain on paper towels and set aside. Allow the nuts to cool. Be sure you have made enough to make the dressing and have some left for the garnish.

In a food processor, add honey, pecans, mustard, and blend well. Slowly blend in the oil, then do the same with the water and red wine vinegar. Be sure that the consistency is creamy. If the mixture breaks you can usually bring it back by adding ice cubes. This recipe was made to be experimented with, don’t be afraid to change proportions to suit your own taste.
We like to garnish the fresh greens with thinly sliced sweet red peppers, red onions, and plenty of the toasted pecans.

One of our signature dishes at the Mint, this fabulous shrimp rendition most likely originated at Pascale’s Manale restaurant, a funky neighborhood Creole Italian joint located on Napoleon Ave. in Uptown New Oleans and has been a local favorite for as long as anyone can remember.

The name is a bit misleading because the shrimp are not grilled or barbecued but actually baked in a spicy butter and olive oil sauce in the shell. There are a number of variations including one by Emeril in which he removes the shells before cooking and used them in a stock as part of his sauce, but I find that his version, while good, requires way too much in the way of time and preparation. At the Mint, much to the dismay of some of our diners, we cook ours like Manale’s, in the shell. The shrimp are baked in the shell for a reason. The shells contain the essence of the shrimp taste and they flavor the sauce during the baking process. Without the shells the sauce would be tasteless. We normally split the shells down the back using scissors to make the shrimp easier to peel after cooking.

My brother Tony, who lives in New Orleans and works at Gallatoire's, a world famous Creole restaurant in the Quarter, once ate three pounds of BBQ shrimp at one seating and lived to tell about it! I would consider him to be the ultimate authority on the technique of contemporary shrimp eating, and he wholeheartedly endorses the following!

The process of eating BBQ shrimp is every bit as important as the way they are cooked. Here is how they do it New Orleans style. First of all, USE YOUR HANDS! Forget a knife and fork; this is a messy process, that’s why we give you extra napkins and handi-wipes. That being said, here is how it’s done.

Properly cooked, the shrimp will arrive at your table, bubbling hot in a baking ramekin. DO NOT TRY TO EAT THEM UNTIL THEY HAVE COOLED. When you feel that you can eat them without burning your lips, take one of them by the tail, dredge it through the sauce, and suck the sauce that clings to the shell. Then, peel the shrimp, and repeat the same process, dredging the peeled shrimp through the herbs and spices that have collected on the bottom of the dish. Then you eat it, all the while savoring all of the wonderful flavors that have combined to make this very special dish. A very important part of this process consists of dipping pieces of French bread periodically to soak up the sauce. Remember SPE, suck, peel, and eat.

Serve with a dry Pinot Gris, or Riesling, or better yet, a very cold beer. If you can get one, a local New Orleans favorite, Abita Springs Amber would be the ultimate combination.

Enjoy!

Please send your comments and questions to Jay at:

mintbarcafe1@qwestoffice.net

Labels: How To

A term that we have all heard many times; actually has its origins back in the early days of the Royal Navy when the ship’s company or crew was divided into smaller groups that were called a “ mess”. The mess concept was a way of feeding everyone on each watch as quickly efficiently as possible given the limited and primitive cooking facilities available at that time. The ships galley was a cramped and dark space somewhere in the bowels of the ship, usually lined with bricks, to reduce the danger of fire, and very limited in terms of what it could produce. The usual meal was something that was cooked in a pot, some sort of stew, and on rare occasions when some sort of fresh meat was available, it was roasted on a spit. Because the typical man-o-war had very little extra space, there were no space set aside for the express purpose of eating, therefore everyone other than the ships captain and his officers, which dined in the captain’s cabin, had to eat wherever they could, usually in the same space in which they slept. Each mess had a captain, whose job it was to go to the galley and fetch back for his mess mates, containers of whatever had been prepared by the cook for that meal. The mess captain would then dish out the food into each mans personal plate, which, in the Royal Navy, was a wooden low sided plate in the shape of a square, hence the phrase “Three squares a day”.