Food by Mail: Pandemic Carrot Cake

Carrot Cake -- Lloyd's Carrot Cake, Riverdale, NY

Lloyd's Carrot Cake

Essential supplies one needs during a global pandemic: Face masks. Hand sanitizer. Carrot cake.

We Didn't Make the Rules

Over one-hundred days into the coronavirus lockdown, Vodka, in NYC, receives a text from Ginger, in CA, alerting her that a shipment is about to arrive at Vodka's front desk. 

"Happy Birthday, Here's a Fruit Cake," Take 2

"Sorry to make you leave your safe zone," Ginger writes, as Vodka has righteously declared herself the "Winner of Quarantine." Not only does she not go outside (literally ever), she only leaves the confines of her apartment in the middle of the night while sporting a homemade hazmat suit in order to fetch packages from her lobby. 

When Your Health Fears Stand in the Way of Your Snacks

But once it's revealed that Ginger's mysterious gift is perishable, Vodka decides to risk life and limb to shuffle downstairs mid-afternoon to claim her prize.

Also Convenient, as Her Own Food Supply Was Already Running Low

Waiting for Vodka is a box from Lloyd's Carrot Cake, the home of Alex Guarnaschelli's Best Thing I Ever Ate ALL AMERICAN dessert. Inside the cardboard box, Vodka finds an insulation bag... with an entire carrot cake plopped in the middle. 

Oh, Hello There

The delicacy looks virtually unscathed, considering the fact that it has journeyed through the wilds of FedEx in little more than a Ziploc. 

Sturdy Transportation Device?

Once Vodka frees it from the bag, she sticks it in the refrigerator to give it a moment to recover from its pilgrimage.

Along with Its Friend, the Now-Melted Ice Pack

Later that evening, while deep into a glass of rose, Vodka manages to unfurl the cake's Saran Wrap covering with only three hand washings, and then debates whether to cut herself a piece or just dive into the creation fork-first. 

Will Touch Multiple Potentially Contaminated Surfaces to Procure Cake

Opting for the more civilized route, if only for the sake of pictures, she heaves a butter knife into the cake. Based on the heavy weight of the shipping box, and the amount of effort it takes to cut a piece, one would assume that the cake would be extremely dense. 

A Forkful of Sugar Makes the Pandemic... Oh, Never Mind

However, the cake proves to be surprisingly light in texture -- it's the half-inch of delectable cream cheese frosting on top that is weighing the entire enterprise down.

Frosting-to-Cake Ratio on Point

With orange shards of visible carrot pieces throughout, this is the most carroty of any carrot cake Vodka has tasted. 

Peter Rabbit Approved

Light, moist, and spiced with cinnamon, the cake is complemented perfectly by the icing, which would be cloying in its sweetness if paired with a different cake flavor. But this combination is truly stupendous, and upon polishing off her piece, Vodka debates procuring a second.

By the Next Day, She Has Lost All Sense of Decorum

Thanks to the wonders of Lloyd's packaging techniques, their cake-in-a-bag proves that being separated by 3000 miles and a worldwide pandemic doesn't mean you can't still share dessert with friends.

Especially When You Don't Actually Have to Share It

Lloyd's Carrot Cake's Carrot Cake: 5 stars*

*Certifiable Best Thing We Ever Ate

Off the Map: Feeling Crabby in NOLA

Creole Bread Pudding Souffle -- Commander's Palace, New Orleans, LA

Commander's Palace

For our final evening in the Big Easy, Vodka and Whiskey Sour set out for Commander's Palace, arguably the most "classic" (and famous) of New Orleans restaurants. 

And Also the Most Turquoise

As we had just heard on our afternoon walking tour of the Garden District, Commander's Palace is constantly praised for not only their food, but for their level of service.

Hence the Three Waiters Gathered Around a Table at Any Given Time

Let's just say this is going to be an interesting evening.

Let the Wining and Dining Begin... and the Whining

Things start out innocently enough: We are greeted by a genial gentlemen at the front desk, and then led through the maze of the restaurant: through the kitchen, across a patio, and finally to our table... which is directly next to red door brandished with the lettering EMERGENCY EXIT.

It's Like They Know We're Going to Be Trouble

The hostess runs off to find Whiskey Sour a black napkin to match her dress, while Vodka turns all of her attention to the cocktail menu. 

Priorities, People

Before she can blurt out, "TWO SAZERACS, AND STAT," our waiter descends upon us, and he is, to put it mildly, "a lot." He sways in place while speaking at full volume about the assortment of ordering options available to us (a la carte, three-course, seven course, twenty-eight course -- who knows, Vodka just wants a cocktail).

Let's Go, This New Orleans Night Isn't Getting Any Longer

While we await our booze, we settle on the gumbo and filet (Vodka) and the crawfish soup and shrimp (Whiskey Sour), plus Claire Robinson's Best Thing I Ever Ate NEW ORLEANS dish, the creole bread pudding souffle, for dessert.

Notably, We Are Not Getting the Dessert That Requires ACTUAL FIRE

After ordering, we sip our sazeracs and begin what will turn out to be quite the foreshadowing conversation on how ridiculous things tend to happen to us, both separately and when we are together. As we are regaling one another with past examples of such shenanigans, two servers approach and place a soup bowl before each of us. Then, with a flourish, they produce tin cups full of our piping-hot soups, and pour them into their respective bowls.

All Good, Nothing to See Here OH WAIT

Sorry, let me rephrase: Whiskey Sour's server pours her soup into the bowl; in contrast, Vodka's pours her gumbo ONTO VODKA.

Unfortunately, Photographic Evidence Was Not Captured, Save for the Dribble on the Rim

Instead of executing the swirling technique of his counterpart, Vodka's server merely DUMPS the gumbo in the direction of the bowl, causing one large piece of crab to splash over the side and land, with a great deal of accompanying drizzle, on Vodka's lap. 

Perhaps the Crab Was Making a Run for the Emergency Exit

So startled by his gaffe that he presumably loses all muscle control, the server then drops the tin cup INTO the gumbo, causing another tidal wave of soup to hit the table cloth.

We Really and Truly Could Not Make This Stuff Up

At this point, two things happen: Vodka and Whiskey Sour begin laughing hysterically, and the servers RUN AWAY.

They leave!

Moments later, as giggling-induced tears slide out the corners of our eyes, a manager appears and immediately begins profusely apologizing for the blunder, explaining that "Marvin" has only been a server for two days and is so embarrassed by what happened. She offers to pay for any needed dry cleaning, and we, still in good humor, laugh off the incident as another example of our collective ridiculousness come to life.

More on This Circumstance Later

After she leaves, we see that garlic bread has somehow made it to our table ("I didn't notice this appearing." "They snuck it in while you were being attacked.") 

A Small Consolation After the Soup Monsoon

The bread is tasty enough -- it's garlic bread, after all, and fairly difficult to screw up. Similarly, our soups are good, but rather beside the point at this juncture (and Vodka is confused as to why her gumbo doesn't feature rice, unless Marvin dumped that somewhere else in the dining room.)

Our 57th New Orleans Loaf of Bread

A different waiter approaches and, pointing to Vodka's empty sazerac glass, asks if she'd care for a glass of wine.

"I'd care for a Tide pen," she quips under her breath, while settling for a glass of rose. 

Thankfully, Marvin Does Not Serve Our Entrees

It's important to know that throughout these proceedings, a portion of our general cheeriness is stemming from the fact that we are downright certain our bill is about to be discounted. After all, Vodka got doused in gumbo at a place that we have been told repeatedly is "renowned for their service" -- they're at least going to throw in this glass of rose for free.

Or at the Very Least, a Tide Pen

Therefore, we remain in fine spirits through our entrees, which are okay, but not overwhelmingly stellar. Vodka ends up leaving half of her filet behind, and not only because this is our fourth meal of the day. 

Just Not That Into It

Now, it is finally time for the main event: the bread pudding souffle that is apparently such an ordeal that customers are required to order it at the beginning of their meals so that the kitchen has ample time to prepare it.

Ordeal in a Ramekin

The bread pudding souffle arrives, and a new server cracks the surface and pours in a portion of the accompanying sauce.

It Seems Marvin's Pouring Privileges Have Been Revoked for the Evening

We dig in our spoons eagerly and wait for the magic to hit our taste buds.

And we keep right on waiting.

Any Day Now, the Majesty Will Hit

The souffle is, well, it is not great. It's not even remotely good. The bread pudding portion itself has very little flavor, while the accompanying sauce reeks, both in taste and in smell, of alcohol. Like, of straight, rubbing alcohol. It is off-putting to say the least.

From Now On, Keep the Booze in Our Cocktail Glasses, Thanks

There are also unidentifiable crunchy bits throughout the concoction, or at least Vodka finds one.

"Does it have pecans?"

"What, there's nothing crunchy."

"I got something crunchy."

"Maybe you lost a tooth."

Talk About a Rough Night at Commander's Palace

We are unimpressed by the souffle but not hostile about it. No, the hostility does not strike until we receive our bill, and find that nothing -- NOTHING -- has been comped. Not a cocktail, not the dessert, NOT EVEN THE GUMBO THAT GOT POURED ON VODKA'S LAP.

WHAT IS THIS INJUSTICE?

Renowned for your service indeed, Commander's Palace!

Not wishing to end our final hours in New Orleans engaged in an epic battle, Vodka sets her mouth into a firm line but keeps it closed, and we pay the bill without (public) complaint. Overall, for us, Commander's Palace had the distinct honor of feeling like a restaurant that is trying too hard with too little results. But our time in the Big Easy is dwindling and we don't want to waste it away belaboring the place's faults.

There Is Only One Solution to This Problem, and Its Name is Gnocchi

So instead, we set off for a return trip to Restaurant August, where the gnocchi is scrumptious, the desserts are free, and no one is throwing gumbo at us. And once we dive back into the pasta whose crab mercifully remains in its bowl, all is once again right in the world of New Orleans.

Commander's Palace Creole Bread Pudding Souffle: 2 stars

Off the Map: Bread Pudding with a Side of Rum(my)

Bread Pudding -- Mother's Restaurant, New Orleans, LA

Mother's Restaurant

If you need a surefire sign that you look like a tourist who does not know the ways of the local sandwich shop, it is when you enter the place and immediately get a menu thrust in your hand and a pointing finger indicating where you should order.

Thank You, Yes, We Are In Fact Idiots

This is how we are greeted, not unkindly, when we arrive at Mother's Restaurant for Sunny Anderson's Best Thing I Ever Ate GUILTY PLEASURE, the bread pudding. 

Wall of... "Fame"?

Along with the dessert, we are also each buying a po boy to consume during our early morning flights the next day: shrimp for Whiskey Sour (to properly compare to the Domilise variety) and roast beef for Vodka.

Because Nothing Say "Bon Voyage" Like the TSA Patting Down Your Sandwich

While we arrive to a relatively empty restaurant, a sizable crowd enters right after us, making us even more pleased to skedaddle out clutching our po boys and bread pudding in the direction of the nearest bar.

No Offense, Mother's, but We Only Have a Few Hours of Day Drinking Left

We settle down in the lobby of a hotel and, after grabbing some afternoon cocktails, hoist the bread pudding out of the bag in an attempt to at least try it while it's still warm. 

Instagram-Worthy Plating?

In truth, we are not optimistic about this enterprise, as neither of us are overly fond of bread pudding, and Mother's version does not look particularly appetizing. 

Bread Pudding Is the Snaggletooth of Desserts

Reluctantly, we stick our utensils into the plastic container and raise them unenthusiastically into our mouths.

"Hmph. It's not bad," Whiskey Sour notes with a distinct tone of surprise.

It, at the Very Least, Is Better Than It Looks

Indeed, of the (very few) bread puddings we have tried in our lives, this is some of the best: the bread is light, the sauce isn't too sweet, and the whole conglomeration isn't very sticky. After expecting to toss the majority of it in the trash, we end up polishing off the entire container.

A Spoonful of Bread Pudding Makes the Sazeracs Go Down

In contrast, we do not find the po boys anywhere near the level of those found at Domilise's. But the bread pudding, while enjoyed with a side of sazerac and a game of rummy, is an unexpected delight.

Come for the Rum, Stay for the Rummy

Not a delight we feel the need to ever consume again, but a delight nonetheless.

Mother's Restaurant's Bread Pudding: 3 stars

Off the Map: The Adult Version of Fish Stick Day

Shrimp Po Boy -- Domilise's Po Boys, New Orleans, LA

Domilise's Po Boys

In our Uber en route to our next Best Thing I Ever Ate location, Whiskey Sour remarks that we have set aside 90 minutes for lunch, which seems like overkill considering we are headed to a takeout sandwich joint.

"Po Boy Bar" Sounds Like an Ideal Business Model

Cut to: We arrive at Domilise's Po Boys, home of Alex Guarnaschelli's REGIONAL FAVORITE, the shrimp po boy, and we find a crowd loitering on the surrounding sidewalks, spilling out from the counters within.

What Is This, Free Po Boy Day?!

"Never mind. Ninety minutes may not be enough," Whiskey Sour says as we weasel our way inside to take a number. We are number 8, and they are currently serving number 44.

This Sign Did Not Look Like a Bad Ophthalmologist Chart in Person

"What do you think they go up to?" Vodka asks.

"Hopefully not 100," Whiskey Sour answers.

Could've Used Some of These Beauties at Galatoire's

As we wait, we note that the workers behind the counter, building dozens upon dozens of (mostly shrimp) po boys, are not what we had pictured. 

A Cluster of Condiments

More akin to the cheery demeanor of your elementary school cafeteria ladies than to harried workers at a consistently-packed hole-in-the-wall restaurant, they are a comforting presence in their array of hairnets.

Does This Place Also Serve Chocolate Milk?

Before long, we see that two stools have opened up at the bar (yes, there is a bar), so Vodka rushes off to claim them. 

Bar-Slash-Accountant's Desk-Slash-Merch Stand, but Bar Nonetheless

Feeling sheepish for squatting at the bar without drinking, she scans the liquor menu, which consists of beer, bloody marys, and, smudged at the bottom of the chalkboard menu, a hastily scrawled "chardonnay." Not finding any of these options pleasing, she asks for two bottles of water and a diet root beer, merely so the slightly surly bartender doesn't yell at her.

The First Time Vodka Has EVER Ordered a Soda at a Bar

After a seemingly interminable amount of time, our number is called, and Whiskey Sour returns to the bar clutching a paper plate of one large shrimp po boy cut into four pieces. After a solid 45-minute wait, the sandwich itself took approximately 3 minutes for the cafeteria ladies to construct, so we are not exactly sure what warranted such a delay between numbers (which thankfully go up to 50, not 100).

McDonald's Drive Thru, This Is Not

The sandwich itself is every bit as amazing as Alex Guarnaschelli had promised. The shrimp are small, slightly sweet, and perfectly fried, and there are A LOT of them. 

A Non-Shrimpy Shrimp Po Boy

They spill out the sides of the sandwich before being guided swiftly into our mouths. The accompanying sauce brings the ideal amount of zip to the proceedings, and all of the components are enveloped by a truly excellent roll.

These po boys really are THAT good.

Splendor in a Bite

At first, we're unsure whether to give the sandwich 4 or 5 stars. But after we a) wish for another sandwich as soon as we finish the first, b) continue to think about it for the remainder of the day, and c) compare it to other po boys (namely Mother's) and find Domilise's to be significantly better, we decide it really does deserve the 5 star designation.

And Considering Vodka's Constant Level of Impatience, This Distinction Really Is a Feat

While Vodka is put off with the amount of waiting involved in order to procure the delicacy, she would come back at time that is not LUNCH on a SATURDAY (so our timing choice, in retrospect, was not Domilise's fault). Also, as we leave, we are genuinely thanked for coming multiple times by the owners and the once surly-seeming bartender, further heightening our good cheer about the place.

Not Quite Beating the Crowd

We exit Domilise's approximately 80 minutes after we arrived with a solid 10 minutes to spare on our itinerary, thus proving that sometimes, cafeteria-style fried shrimp is worth the wait... and the weight.

Domilise's Po Boys's Shrimp Po Boy: 5 stars*

*Certifiable Best Thing We Ever Ate