All right, so yesterday was Comedy Day. Today it's back to business; I've no excuse for playing with the kiddies when there are still 22 chapters of THE BIG D to be proofread (though I would certainly have botched anything serious I tried to do yesterday; I didn't start feeling better until very late in the evening). Anyone who wants more kwobtchan-y fun may find it at LJdrama.

Got some restaurant news to catch up on:

Earlier this week we had dinner at Ralph's on the Park, the new venture of Gerard Maras (formerly of Gerard's Downtown, one of our two favorite chefs in the city) and Ralph Brennan, owner of Mr. B's and several other restaurants. I am happy to say Gerard's mightiness has decreased not an iota.

Our evening did not begin auspiciously. The place was packed, and when Chris asked if the hostess could seat a "deuce" (table for two), she thought he was saying his name was Deuce. Yes, McAllister, party of two. When she finally figured out that we were walk-ins, she told us no tables were available. As we left, GM Richard Shakespeare, whom Chris knows from his Commander's Palace days, chased us down the sidewalk calling, "We have room, we have room!" I'm sorry to say he probably heard me call his hostess a silly cunt (once I was well out of the building -- I'm not a complete asshole), but even so, he kindly found us a table. At the peak of dinner rush this is a very noisy restaurant. Two words: WORTH IT. The menu will not blow you away with wild combinations or fashionable ingredients, but that's never been what Gerard Maras is about. What he is doing here is Creole-tinged food prepared to perfection, at least judging from what we ate.

We began with the charcuterie and cheese plate, a generous assortment of Gerard's Platonic pork rillettes, a hauntingly flavored terrine, a deliciously stinking Morbier, a Valdeon, excellent olives, green apples, and what I think must have been a house-made cucumber pickle. Next I had the Farmer's Market salad of red sail lettuce with oranges, sweet turnips, Washington Parish cheddar, and sesame dressing. I could have gone for more turnips (I had exactly 4 tasty, wafer-thin slices), and I did not approve of the sunflower seeds scattered hither and thither, as if a hippie had strolled by and "improved" the salad. Chris had melanzene, thin strips of roasted eggplant wrapped around fresh goat cheese with a marinara sauce. Not my sort of thing, but he liked it very much.

For my entree I had a double portion of steak tartare with frites, remembering how good it was when served as a special at Gerard's. Still excellent. Chris had Ashley Farms chicken braised with a sausage, sour cherry and goat cheese stuffing, served with blended whipped potatoes, Swiss chard and a sour cherry bacon sauce. For dessert Chris had some sort of intense chocolate cake with sour cherries and I had a glass of Inniskillen Riesling ice wine from Canada, which was delicious but which I definitely didn't need after three Maker's Marks and soda (they were out of Wild Turkey, which I hope will be remedied soon).

The dining room is beautiful, if not terribly well-designed to absorb noise, and the service was attentive and affable despite the crush. I occasionally encounter gentlemen who fetishize my "manly" eating and drinking habits. Our waiter was of this type. I ordered a fresh Maker's Mark when my steak tartare arrived -- "Because how can you eat raw meat without bourbon?" I said, though in fact I do so often, come to think of it. He leaned over to Chris and stage-whispered, "You're a very lucky man, sir!"

I'm happy to report that my pathetic attempts at preparing Ethiopian food may be at an end: La Nouvelle Cafe on Magazine Street is now serving two Ethiopian dishes, tibbs (spicy beef stew with onions and jalapenos) and kitfo (chopped beef with spiced butter, raw or lightly cooked). Both are served with injera, the traditional Ethiopian flatbread, and both are delicious.

Sure wish my bird book would come.