Convention: A Vote for Gastronomy

So maybe the GOP vice-presidential candidate should be chef Paul Prudhomme.

That choice would merge the two major concerns at the Republican National Convention: Who will be George Bush’s running mate, and where next to have dinner? Indeed the superlative array of places to indulge have mellowed even the nastiest convention critic. Complaints about the cavernous hall and the killing heat are forgotten as political types strive for restaurant reservations and regale their buddies with tales of soft-shell crabs.

“Just have one of everything,” explained delegate Harriet Belchic of Shrevesport, La., making her way along buffet tables as Sunday’s USA Today brunch at Brennan’s. Ah, one of everything--some fresh oysters, a little crepes Fitzgerald, a smidge of chocolate Suicide Cake, a taste of crab Imperial and a tad of eggs Benedict.

Pit the Democrats’ “good jobs at good wages” against “good eats” and see which conventioners are happier.

No better symbol of this party-for-all-palates than the spice-wielding Prudhomme at the opening-night bash, which proved that this is a superlative party town. The massive event, sponsored by the hometown newspaper, the Times-Picayune, featured Prudhomme, 18 other chefs and thousands of guests garnering many tastes of Cajun and Creole cuisines.

Even reporters were happy.

That gypsy tribe, the political press corps, which every year is subject to the worst food America has to offer, has arrived triumphantly at this center of cuisine, this mecca of mastication. Think of the drama unfolding as “Revenge of the Jaded.”

“This is the best media party I’ve ever been to at a convention,” announced ABC’s Jeff Greenfield, just as the 100-plus person St. Augustine’s brass band and hundreds of other Mardi Gras-style revelers marched through the crowd in the New Orleans Convention Center.

Quizzed as to whether Republicans always party like this, New York magazine’s Joe Klein did point out that the evening was “like one giant frat party.” And that comment was punctuated when numbers of delegates were spotted sporting massive sponge crawfish as headgear.

Aside from the chefs, the stars at the party were those from the media, especially the “Today” show’s Jane Pauley. A smiling woman came by, briskly grabbed Pauley’s hand and announced: “I’m Meena Hamilton. I think you are so cute and I think I have been pregnant every time you have.” Pauley smiled.

Nearby, Pauley’s husband, cartoonist Garry Trudeau, was being quizzed on his political prognostications. “I’m counting on no departure from the schedule,” he said, since the Doonesbury strips for next week were done. On Thursday, Trudeau said (in a play on Democrat nominee Michael Dukakis and his 25-year-old snow blower), look for “George Bush Jr. introducing his father with a slide-show of his 25-year-old golf cart.”

The party invitation had specified “casually elegant” dress. That left folks (including the crayfish brigade) a great deal of latitude. The Washington Post’s T. R. Reid was sporting a circa 1952 necktie emblazoned in giant letters reading, top to bottom, “I-K-E.” (At last count, the top offer from a Republican was $40 for it.)

Maybe the best example was media consultant David Webster, standing near his wife, writer-commentator Elizabeth Drew, and sporting an elegant jacket. “I had it made for the Democratic Convention in 1984. I asked my London tailor what would be good for San Francisco and he suggested a delicate pink and grey.”

Outside, a woman carried a large loaf of bread, baked in the shape of a crab. She hugged it tight against her chest. “I won it,” she announced.

Well, if you come away from a political convention with anything tangible, you’re ahead of the game.