So I trekked across the river to have lunch at the Coach Lamp today. I was a bit nervous as I had royally pissed off the chef there with my post last week and I wasn't sure how I would be received. My imagination conjured Justin Wilson/Steven Seagal with a cleaver. My plan. Fly under the radar get in, get out, no muss, no fuss.
I entered the restaurant through the bar and to my chagrin seated right by the hostess stand was a burly fellow wearing chef's attire. I'm sure I hesitated a second (where's cleaver) and was greeted by a smartly dressed fellow who gave me a questioning look. At a bit of loss I stupidly asked “lunch?” To which he replied, “just you?” “Yep, just me.” He seated me at the bar and told me the specials.
I ordered the oyster poorboy and the jambalaya. This would be way too much food but I'd planned to eat half and take the rest home. While I waited for my food to arrive I pretended to watch the TV all the while thinking what would I do if I didn't like my food? I would never lie about it but at the same time just because I don't like something doesn't mean it isn't good. What if I really liked it. Would anyone believe me or just think I was trying to get myself off the hook. Am I insane for even thinking of this?
Chef had gone off to the kitchen after I ordered my food and as I ruminated over my predicament the door opened and a guy came in. I thought, “I hope he sits at the bar to take some of this attention off me.” (nobody paying the least attention to me, am I really sweating?) The guy comes in making direct eye contact with me and maintains it as he walks straight up to me. Uh, hi I say. He smiles and continues to look right at me. They know! I'll be whisked off my stool and disappear for sure. Probably end up in the creole. Maybe they could name it after me (Hoosier Daddy Now Creole). The guy blinks and says, “Oh, I thought you were someone else. Thought you were my lawyer.” Ok that was close (lawyer? I must look suspicious).
My food arrives. Wow that's a lot of food. Looks really good too. The bread is crispy on top but also soft and springy under. Sandwich is loaded with fried oysters, lettuce, tomato (you know, in other words, a poorboy). The jambalaya is heaped on a large plate and would be a challenge to eat if that was all I had ordered. It is steaming with lots of sausage and shrimp and I'll just allow that to cool a bit while I take care of the first half of this sandwich. I smear some yellowish brown remoulade sauce on and take the first bite.
It gets a bit hazy then until chef comes back out of the kitchen and asks how I like the poorboy (is that a cleaver behind his back?) I force down a mouthful and realize I'm eating the second sandwich already! Oh, stupid. I've already screwed up my plan. I assure him it is a damn fine poorboy. Well now for the jambalaya. I can manage only half a dozen bites but the shrimp is perfectly cooked, this thing is loaded with tomatoes, onions, peppers, and the rice is tender but not mushy. It is nicely spiced. I normally have to put hot sauce on this dish when I get it around here. Not this time. It had plenty of flavor and just the right amount of heat.
I finally decided enough with the Maxwell Smart routine. I turned around and asked the chef who was seated behind me if he was in fact Chef Richard Lowe. He responded that he was and I said, “I'm the guy who pissed you off earlier this week.” “Oh, Mr Campbell,” he replied and sprang up (cleaver) and came over with his hand out (no cleaver). We shook and had a nice discussion. Chef was engaging and gracious and I was really glad I had returned for a second try. The Coach Lamp is now on my short list of restaurants around here that do great cajun. But then you guys already knew that.
