We were incredibly honored by an invitation to an intimate
dinner party at the home of the cardiologist who was instrumental in saving
Richard's life and his wife, who plans elaborate parties for a living. They
live in the home in which he was brought up, and are both devout Jews who honor
all the Jewish holidays in their home.
Juliet was brought up Roman Catholic, but converted to
Judaism before marrying Moshe and combining their families. Some of their
children are practicing Jews; others are not, but what they all have in common
is that they all grew up in uptown New Orleans. Being a New Orleanian, raised
in the heart of one of the oldest areas of New Orleans is a religion unto
itself. Most people from uptown even pronounce New Orleans with three
syllables, rather than the usual two used by suburbanites.
Moshe's mother, in addition to being the matriarch of her
own large family, was a renowned New Orleans art critic, patron, activist, and
connoisseur. The home in which Moshe and Juliet live is Old New Orleans at it's
very best, showcasing some of the greatest of New Orleans artists' works.
Though the children of this home are all grown, there are always people other
than Moshe and Juliet in residence. Grandchildren, students seeking a warm
welcome when studying in one of the nearby universities, dozens of Godchildren,
and any friends who want to bring their pajamas (or not) and stay for the
night.
We really didn't know what to expect when we got the
invitation. We have been to dinner at their home on more than one occasion,
when it was only the four of us. Mostly we've been to their home when seemingly
several hundred people were dancing and partying to beat the band...often with
their formal parlor turned into a bandstand. Juliet and Moshe are much younger
than are we, so we have never been able to stay long enough to see the ends of
the evenings, except when it has been only the four of us. Age is not the
only reason we can't keep up with them, but it makes me feel better to pretend
this is so.
Juliet and Moshe simply love to celebrate the very air that
they breathe, and nobody does it better, or with more variety, than they do.
They simultaneously decorate their home for Hanukkah and for Christmas. I won't
be surprised if we arrive one day to find Kwanzaa included in the decor and
celebration, as their home, year round, Certainly exemplifies the spirit of
Kwanzaa.
We found a parking spot in the very front of their home,
feasting our eyes on the lights draping the iron fence and covering Moshe's
treasured Sasanqua azaleas that bloom every winter here in New Orleans. I had
to smell the garlands of greenery on their old brick steps' black iron banister
to know that they hadn't hung real evergreen that fall apart within a week in
our heat. The decorations on their door and porch welcomed us with lots of gold
intertwined in the green. (Add a little purple and they will be ready for Mardi
Gras.)
We had to knock several times before Moshe, looking harried,
answered the door. He apologized that we had to "act like family and hang
out in the kitchen" acknowledging that were right on time, but that he
could not yet offer us cocktails. Moshe is an accomplished mixologist and takes
great pride in doing drinks the way the greatest bars in New Orleans do them.
With the deft handwork of a surgeon, he was peeling an orange into one long
spiral of skin and studding it with whole cloves.
As we passed through the dining room toward the kitchen, we
were absolutely stunned by the opulent tablescape, set with green Venetian
glass and gleaming gold charger plates on which were setting exquisite fine
china. Candles glowed all around. I felt like we had stepped back in time to
the early twentieth century in New Orleans, when servants were in abundance to
cook, iron the linens, shop, cook, set the table, serve, and wash the fine
crystal, china, and silver. The amazing thing is that we knew that Moshe and Juliet
were doing it all, and that we were included in the small group invited to
celebrate Moshe's latest success.
It wasn't long before another couple arrived, one whom we
didn't know from previous parties. They, too, were treated to watching Moshe's
handwork with the orange. Moments later, Moshe called us all to follow him into
the living room, where on the bar he proudly displayed a bottle of port which
he had been saving for several decades and the contents of said bottle decanted
into a Baccarat carafe. He announced that this was all about celebrating his
recent success.
As the third, and last, couple arrived, Moshe was
ceremoniously pouring perfectly made Manhattans into the proper stemware. Juliet
arrived and requested a glass of claret. We had known for months that Moshe was
studying for an esoteric and new area of Cardiology care. Though he is
brilliant and imminently accomplished in all he attempts, his nerves for these
months were strung as tightly as piano wires. He announced that he had gotten
the results and he passed, to which we all offered great sighs of relief and
raised our glasses to having our friend so happy. We had never doubted his
success.
The last couple to arrive, Mona and her husband Mickey have
been at every function we've ever attended at this home, so they really are
family. Mona took one look at the table and asked, appropriately, "Where
are you putting the food?" We noshed on hors d'oeuvres in the parlor for a
while, sipping and basking in Moshe's glory; then Juliet began to lay out the
buffet.
As we were seated, Moshe poured both red and white wines,
the Claret for some and Vouvray for others of us. He also poured water all
around. Timothy, who was seated next to me, received from the hands of Juliet a
bowl of freshly steamed haricot verte and what looked to be falafel patties. It
seems that even vegans get what the wish for in this home.
The salad was spectacular, and had the gourmet touch of
prosciutto in place of bacon bits. The sweet potatoes were firm and in a syrup
that was just sweet enough; not cloying like so many sweet potatoes. The
stuffed merliton was pure New Orleans goodness; I'd challenge any chef, in or
out of New Orleans, to beat Juliet's version of this dish. And the crowning
touch (pun intended) was the crown roast of pork with gold foil tips for the
standing bones. There is nothing more elegant in presentation, in my opinion,
than crown roast. The pork was slightly pink in the middle, as it should be,
tender and juicy...in other words, roasted to perfection. This was accompanied
by a side dish of applesauce, as if it needed more embellishment.
Before we ate, there were three blessings spoken over us and
the table, two in Hebrew by Moshe and one the Roman Catholic grace before meals
by lifelong friend Mickey. The conversation was lively and laughter was
good-natured. Any subjects that were brought up to break the mood were gently,
but firmly put aside for later by Moshe. I kept waiting to see servants
standing at the ready, knowing how much work went into this moment in
time.
As the dinner dishes were cleared, Juliet brought out
champagne glasses and ice cream with three different toppings. While we ate ice
cream, Moshe appeared with what appeared to be a small silver punch bowl and
ladle. As we watched, he raised the clove-studded orange skin spiral out of the
bowl, picked up the ladle and poured a liquid over the end of the spiral. Fire
leapt out of the bowl and traveled up and down the spiraled skin.
We were now witnessing the Old New Orleans performance art
form of flaming desserts and coffee at table side. Moshe was using what he said
used to be given to all New Orleans brides as a wedding gift, his mother's
sterling silver cafe brulot bowl, and what a show
he put on! The highly spirited coffee was served in fine china demi
tasse cups. Timothy announced that he had enjoyed cafe
brulot in several of the best New Orleans restaurants, and that
this was the finest he had ever had. It was spiced and spiked better than
any I’d ever tasted.
Juliet, once again appeared from the kitchen, with yet
another vintage recipe, perfectly prepared: baked in an iron skillet buttery
pineapple upside down cake. We ate for hours, it seemed, but the evening was
still young. The champagne flutes were filled with Veuve Clicquot, tasting
to me of sparkling fresh pears, to wash down our cake before we retired to
the parlor for 40 year old port and aged Montrachet cheese
and chocolate.
It was time to bring out the parlor game that we had given Moshe
and Juliet as a gift. Questions were asked and hilarity ensued while Moshe
offered everyone liqueurs. I don't know when was the last time we stayed at a
party this late, but the time simply flew by. One of the questions asked of Juliet
was, "What is your favorite time of year?" She replied, "I love
this holiday season because everyone is so nice to each other.
Juliet and Moshe stretch this holiday season to include
Hanukkah and Christmas. They then roll right into celebrating the carnival
season of Mardi Gras. They do so much for so many that we were inspired, for Moshe's
last birthday, to give them New Orleans style tiles saying "Mensch
Manor" Their home is what humanity is supposed to be about, whether one is
Jewish, Catholic or simply of homo sapiens who wish to be considered full parts
of humanity.
We were celebrating Moshe, and he and Juliet were waiting on
us! This was a sacrament, in my eyes. The good will we shared will be
transubstantiated into good will and good works by all who were at the table
and all who enter their home.
This was our Christmas dinner. Thank you, Moshe and Juliet.