Pig Parts

Worked, worked, worked, feeling good. The weather was fine, and all day I held in my head the vision of a pig-centric piggy feast at Cochon.

I dressed up in my finest—LBD and the furry pink capelet I had bought the week before—and Jeff and Lycia picked me up. We stopped at the AT&T store so Jeff could get a new iPhone, and I called Spike from the truck. He loves Cochon and it broke my heart to go there without him. But he told me to order the part of the pig that most reminded me of him, so I said pork cheeks. Wish I’d thought of the ears, on retrospect, but as it turns out, they weren’t offering pig’s ears that night.

Sophie Lee joined us and we ordered appetizers and one entrée. When will we learn not to fill up on an entrée? The pokr belly was just ok last time, and this was a rabbit and dumpling stew, a little heavy for the season and so deeply flavored it sort of numbed the effect of the appetizers, which were insane. A cone of roasted cauliflower with a buttery-spicy dipping sauce; boudin with hot grainy mustard; shrimp with red-pepper chow-chow; ridiculously delicious alligator in sauce; pork cheeks for my pookie, which may have been the highlight; a plate of pork ribs whose flavor shifted as you moved down the bone, with crispy, intensely smoked edges; something else, maybe. We forgot to get the shrimp and deviled egg gumbo, and swooned when a nearby table ordered it. The ladies split a bottle of Willamette Valley white and after we got a shot of Catdaddy moonshine to split and two desserts, a strawberry shortcake and a lemon-buttermilk tart. The tart took it by a lap.

Stuffed, we reeled to our respective homes in time for “Lost.” (We had made an early-bird old folks’ reservation at 5:45.) James called around 8:30 asking if I wanted dinner at Coop’s, which I certainly did not, but I went over anyway and drank a glass of wine while he attacked a plate of panneed chicken. Walked around the Marigny again and I went home.

Advertisement