Toulouse Petit: Fried Yearling Oysters and Bacon Po’Boy

The three-hour drive from Portland to Seattle was punctuated with intervals of rain.  And I’m not talking about logical end-of-sentence periods, exclamation points and question marks.  No, no, no.  This schizophrenic precipitation fell as commas, semi-colons and hyphens: dropping mid-sentence into the drive with bursts, mists, blinding sheets and dry spells with breaks of sunshine in sudden turns.

We made good time despite the slick conditions and arrived at our hotel a couple of hours before check-in time.  Hungry, ready for a libation and with a restaurant on our checklist within walking distance, Shan and I huddled under our slightly-effective three dollar NYC umbrella and set off on foot.  I’d heard that locals scoff at people carrying umbrellas.  Well sure, if you’re fully rain-slicked from hood to boot, it ain’t no thang.  But hey, we were just visiting and felt no need to measure up to any sort of wet local machismo.

Stepping through the door of Toulouse Petit reveals a giant dining room that exudes richness and warmth.  The golden walls and ceiling are flecked with oranges, browns and greens.  Ripple patterns of mosaic floor tile flow around four-tops and bar-tables, breaking against the glass-tiled platforms for booths.  Following the hostess to our seats, we noted the ornate ironworking on railings and bar stools, hand-blown glass light fixtures and intricately inlaid tabletops.

Seated parallel to a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, we ordered beers to celebrate our arrival and unwind after the drive.  The pale neighborhood outside was awash in electric grey as mist continued to fall.  I love those kinds of cool, rainy Spring days.  It may seem odd, but I feel energized on days like this.  Especially when the day is unspoken for, as it was on this vacation.  At your destination with the full duration of your time there ahead of you — free time in a place unexplored, with no agenda or itinerary — cold beer and menu in hand:  these are the days for deep, contented sighs.

“Centered around the cuisine, decor and imagery of the French Quarter and New Orleans,” Toulouse Petit presents a mix of Creole, traditional French and upscale down-home Southern food.  Look, I’m from a small town in Central New York, and can’t vouch for the authenticity of much outside of traditional American dishes, but this place is legit.  This ran through my mind while examining the menu: “Hmmm, I’ll take one of everything the this side of the menu, and my wife and I will split one of everything on that side.”

Now, I love sandwiches.  LOOOVE sandwiches.  Especially for lunch.  They make so much damned sense!  I instinctively seek out the sandwich section of any menu.  And there it was: Fried Yearling Oysters and Bacon Po’boy.  SOLD!  I defy you to beat the combo of  fried {insert food stuff here} and bacon.  Take your time.  Let me know what you come up with.

Served “on a light french roll with butter lettuce, roma tomatoes, mama lil’s peppers, and a creole mayonnaise” with a side of herbed shoestring fries, the po’boy is an even balance of textures. Crusty, airy bread envelopes the smooth mayo, crispy fried batter and delicate meat of the oyster, crunchy vegetables and the bacon, which is well done enough to remove any rubberiness, but not so burnt to a crisp that you’ve forgotten that you’re dealing with meat.

As I tend to do, I cleaned my plate, eating past the point of my stomach’s surrender.  But I hate to waste good food.  And a hotel fridge would KILL this thing.  I did, however, keep my eagerness in check, eating slowly and savoring, which I do not always remember to do.

But this time, vacation was just as delicious as the sandwich itself, and I tasted it in every bite.  I walked back into the mist with a heaviness of stomach and a lightness of being, returning twice over the next three days.