Let’s channel our cruel, stupid days as schoolchildren for a moment and that timelessly juvenile tradition of “your mother. . .” jokes. The one I’m thinking of now went something like this: “Your mother is so fat, when she orders at a restaurant she just reads the menu and says ‘I’ll take it’.”
Now that we’re older and our palate, if not our sense of humor, has matured a bit, wouldn’t it be nice to take our mothers, friends or lovers to a restaurant where we could actually order that punchline in earnest? Well, we can.
Quite a few places have lately discovered the appeal of a multi-course dinner comprised of small portions. But unlike the chef’s menus or tasting menus where they serve a set repertoire of a half-dozen items or so, a few local places offer the “feed me.” But beware, once you utter these words they keep bringing out food until you have to wave your napkin as a white flag of surrender to the kitchen.
This is a great way to order, no what culinary tradition the food comes from. If you want variety, you’ll love it. If you’re indecisive, you’ve got it made. If you’re a glutton, you’ll surely leave sated. And if you’ve ever been tempted to order a meal comprised solely of appetizers, you’ll find yourself in heaven.
The first time I ever dined like this, it happened by accident. I was with a group of 12 people one night at Vega Tapas Café in Old Metairie. A meal of small-portioned tapas, of course, is the archetypal food for a multi-course dinner. But our waitress, seeing all 12 of us try to decide which and how many of the menu’s elaborate offerings we should each order, suggested getting the “feed me” for the whole table. What followed was a two-hour feeding frenzy enlivened by a virtual bucket brigade of sangria pitchers amid Vega’s inviting, earth-toned dining room.
At many restaurants, the chefs’ creative energy seems to go more into the appetizers than the main courses of familiar fish, steaks and pastas. At Vega, where all of the menu items could pass for appetizers at any fine dining restaurant, everything seems to share Chef Allison Vega’s creativity, condensed on dishes no bigger than bread plates.
The serrano wrapped scallops, for instance, came over a gratin of Manchego cheese and drizzled with a balsamic reduction. The grilled jumbo shrimp were served with a smoky polenta tasting of roasted garlic and lemon-flavored beurre blanc atop it all. And instead of the ground meat usually stuffed into crusty empanadas, here these Latin pies were full of buttery escargot and artichokes, with tight little crimini mushrooms and a spinach sauce liquored up with Herbsaint.
Vega serves a more conventional lunch of salads, gourmet sandwiches and some of its dinner tapas beefed up a bit and accompanied on the plate by a vegetable and a starch. But dinner is much more fun, and you don’t have to go with a mob of people to order a lot of different tapas. The menu seems to change fairly frequently but some items, like the Moorish pork, have become staples of the menu. With this dish, small nuggets of pork tenderloin are dry-rubbed with mellow, warm spices, grilled and then served on a bed of flash-fried spinach that looks like seaweed and has the texture of phyllo. Another dish I hope sticks around for a while is the sweet potato gnocchi, a savory delight propelled to another dimension by a rich Gorgonzola cream sauce.
By the time our group of 12 surrendered to our feed me, the bill came to about $55 each including tip and plenty of sangria. With servings ranging in price from $6 to $12, you can spend a lot more than that or much less ordering on your own.
Tony Angello’s Restaurant offers a similar culinary adventure, though in a much different style, flavor and atmosphere. Nestled in New Orleans’ Fleur de Lis neighborhood, just on the brink of Metairie, Tony Angello’s is a converted brick house that from the outside gives little clue that it is a restaurant. The only sign is a small, unlit nameplate by the door, impossible to see from the street. Inside, you find a series of chamber-like dining rooms, dimly lit and slung with low hanging ceiling beams.
From the menu, it looks like any other moderately-priced family Italian place. But no one ever seems to see the menu. At least I never did until I asked for one, just out of curiosity, after finishing dinner once. Instead, the waiter will most likely ask if you came for the “Feed Me, Mr. Tony.”
Say yes and the waiters will immediately unleash a veritable Noah’s Ark of food on your table, with one helping for each person there. The menu changes with whatever “Mr. Tony,” a.k.a. Chef Angello, is pushing that night. But one night we had no fewer than 11 different dishes laid before us. This marathon of mastication started with a plate of marinated mushrooms, coated with parsley, Parmigiana cheese and minced garlic. A brace of butterflied shrimp with a horseradish sauce arrived at the same moment. The speed of delivery tells me some of the food has been prepared in advance. But it doesn’t seem to matter much. After all, the feast they put out is a lot like the belly-swelling meals Italian grandmothers push on their houseguests at home and many of those fine women keep the fridge stocked in case guests drop by. So in a way, it seems natural.
The waiters soon brought more seafood, including fried softshell crabs, a small panneed flounder filet and a dish called lobster cup. This is somewhere between a bisque and a casserole, thick, piping hot and topped with a breadcrumb crust. Like all the other servings, it was enough to linger over for a minute or two before anticipating what might come next.
They don’t keep you waiting long here. In fact, it can be hard to keep up and during one visit my companion started showing signs of fullness by the sixth course—hardly more than halfway through!
A forgettable house salad appeared at some point but the next highlight was a dish of angelhair pasta with crawfish tails in a spicy garlic cream sauce. All of this, we learned, was a prelude to the entrée. And naturally one plate wouldn’t be enough for the main course here, so we had tender steak tips marinated in olive oil and mushrooms, pork loin covered in a sweet red gravy and yet another plate of pasta in a different, richer red gravy. Prices vary with the “Feed Me, Mr. Tony” but usually end up around $30 to $33 per person.
Again, you don’t have to go with a large group to get the full effect of this menu. But unless I’m sitting across from a certain azure-eyed beauty, communal meals like these seem to get better with the more people you have along to share them.
