Lunch with Mom at Diawa

I hate to keep beating the same drum about the place, but I can't help it. Diawa is, by far, the best sushi place on the west bank. To make matters even more obnoxious, their kitchen is so much better than everybody else's, there's not even cause for comparison.

I know you're saying to yourself, does this ostrich, this Archibald who writes this blog, does he have a financial stake in the place? The answer is "no," but considering the amount of money I've doled out eating there, if there ever is an IPO, I will be shifting most of my stock portfolio near the corner of Barataria and Lapalco.

Today's newest dish of interest was a Gyoza Soup. Twice as large as their regular soups (and still only around $3), the broth had a bacon-y flavor, and as we all know, bacon makes everything better. It was tremendous.

Add to that the Tuna and Pepper Tuna sashimi, and an assortment of rolls, and the moms and I had an altogether terrific lunch.

This is what our table looked like when we left.

Leap Day is Pho Day

I have returned. Much idiocy will resume.

My list (in order) of the best Pho Tai on the westbank. Please feel free to disagree:

1. Pho Tau Bay

2. Pho Bang

3. Kim's

4. Tan Dinh

5. Kim Son

Please do not mistake: This is not a list of the best Vietnamese restaurants on the westbank, simply the best Pho Tai.

Bruce Springsteen disagrees with my assessment. Thankfully, Brain is in my camp.

China Doll

Okay, now I know what I am about to say is sacrilege to most of my West Bank brethren, but I'm going to say it anyway: China Doll is not a very good restaurant.

That is not saying that China Doll doesn't have its good points: they make their own egg rolls, cook everything to order and their staff wear very Chinesey looking shirts, like you're in a 70s movie set in Beijing, but filmed in Hollywood.

Since China Doll is very close to where I work, it's a default place to eat when one doesn't really want to think about what to eat. And since I've been going there for years now, I've pretty much figured out what's good and what's terrible. (note: there's not that much in between) But it's perfect for the typical West Bank diner: Gargantuan servings of familiar, non-challenging food. I know, for instance, that if I am going to get in the place, I had better arrive well before noon. It's that popular.

So, the good news: General's chicken (pictured, badly). It's coated in this iridescent orangey sauce that both spicy and garlicky. I'm also pretty sure they have a contract with the Fukishima plant in Japan. I'm pretty sure it glows in the dark, and I'm also sure that's what makes it taste so good. The hot and sour soup is good, if not unexceptional. The Cho-Chos are tasty. Their fried rice is the best around.

Now the bad news: The rest of the menu is either bland, or downright terrible. The BBQ pork plate is insipid, bland, dry (think sandpaper), and is covered in a sauce that tastes like some kind of sweet mushy baby food. It's worse than terrible. It might be the worst dish in the entire state of Louisiana. Makes me long for a Lucky Dog or a plate of Dome nachos. Maybe a triangle tuna fish sandwich from Racetrack.

Yesterday, upon leaving at 12:30, I was greeted with the inevitable and the preposterous. There were eighteen people waiting in line for a table, with people literally outside the restaurant.

Only on the Wank.

Wild Goose Chase

It all started around 11:30. I was supposed to be going with the Snowman to meet Falcon at da Wabbit, but the Snowman was nowhere to be found. I asked the Red Nosed Reindeer if she knew where he was. "He's around here somewhere."

But he was nowhere to be found. It's hot out; I figured he melted.

While waiting for a table with Falcon, my phone rang. Turns out the Snowman wasn't a puddle of water after all. "Sorry. Got stuck in a meeting with Burl Ives. Can I still meet you there?"

"Sure," I told him, and informed the restaurant we were three, not two.

Fifteen minutes later, after our waitress had brought our beverages, Falcon said, "Did the Snowman fall into the Harvey Canal?"

As it had been quite a while, I called the Snowman. Turns out, he was with Donner, Dasher and Blitzen at 9 Roses. Snowmen. As reliable as women.

Falcon and I both had the blurry photograph of the Hamburger Steak. Well seasoned and delicious, floating in enough gravy to satiate Santa Claus and Burl Ives.

Cleopatra

So it's been a while since I've posted, but a bout of Achilles Tendonitis has kept my happy ass parked on the East Bank, "working remotely" as they say in office jargon.

Today, I was joined by DEE and Mama's Boy at Cleopatra. Now you may notice my photograph is blurry and not-too-appetizing. I would like to apologize. It's because I was hungry and not particularly interested in composition. Or neatness. Or appetizingness.

This is all because Cleopatra is delicious, delightful and always spot on.

They bake their own bread. Before the meal, they bring out pickled vegetables and olives. My meal, with tip and drink came to $13. That's with the bread, soup, hummus and rice. Not to mention the perfect gyro meat. And that stuff you dip stuff in. No idea what it is. I only know I want to marry it.

Speaking of weddings, DEE announced he planned on proposing to his girlfriend when he takes her to Paris this weekend, so congrats to DEE Z. He showed Mama's Boy and I the rock he's going to give her.

"It's the size of Alaska!" I exclaimed, wondering how quickly I could kill him, steal the ring and get out of the country.

Mama's Boy simply vomited, right there in the middle of the restaurant. Then he looked up at DEE, shook his head and vomited some more.

At which point I looked up for the waiter. "Check please."

Soup is Good Food

Today, took a trip with Mama's Boy and DEE to Pho Tau Bay, a restaurant located in the most run down strip mall in the universe, on the West Bank Expressway between Stumpf and Lafayette.

In most respects, Pho Tau Bay is like many other Vietnamese restaurants, with the different soups, rice or vermicelli dishes and a few Vietnamese po boys. But what really sets PTB apart are its soups, or more specifically, the beef broth.

I find it hard to explain to people, but there's something sublime, complex and, yet, still completely simple about the broth there. Which is exactly the reason it is my favorite--- this simplicity allows you to enjoy pho for what it is without being distracted by other notes.

For comparison's sake, eating the pho at Tan Dinh, while not an unpleasant experience, throws too many flavor bells and whistles at your palate. It loses the basic beefy backbone that Pho Tau Bay delivers and keeps delivering until the bowl is dry.

Today was Mama's Boy's first pho eat (his throat was sore), and he loved it. Earlier, we also had some spring rolls dipped in fish sauce. MB was also a fish sauce virgin, whose cherry burst with the delight of a girl from Westwego on her 11th birthday.

DEE, just back from a trip to Destin, sand in his brain, had one of the vermicelli dishes with the egg rolls. Nearly emptied his plate, which is saying something as DEE usually eats like a rabbit.

So, if you're hungry for soup and it's not a Thursday or a Sunday (they are closed on those days... must be some kind of strange Antarctic Orthodox religious thing), go there. And eat soup.

Mama's Boy Guest Column: Sahara

The bathroom at Sahara has a rather unique mid-wall wallpaper banner that circles the entire restroom:

Don't most of them look a lot like Saddam Hussein?

If you notice as well, there are a few guys that are looking directly at you as if they are saying,"You had better wash your hands after you finish that business. Or we will get Saddam to shoot your ass with a gold plated AK47 that he has hidden under his waiter apron."