Eater Comes Back To New Orleans

[scrumptiouschef]

Blasting across the southeast Texas skies at 500 plus miles an hour has got to be the second best way to get to New Orleans from Austin.The first best would be astraddle my bike but time is precious and we don't have it to spare for our Halloween weekend in New Orleans.

After the slowest taxi ride ever [never went over 40 mph on the expressway into NOLA proper] We hit the Inn on Royal street like a Mack truck, throw on our costumes and hit the street running.I'm working a young Yaphet Koto meets Gorgeous George and my companion has evolved Robin Hood into Marilyn Chambers quite nicely.

There's eating and drinking to do and we're determined to make the most of our 96 hour allotment.After watching Quintron deconstruct the Brit psyche rock movement at One Eyed Jacks we are STARVING but it's 3 in the morning and a 5 dollar dirty water dog just doesn't sound that good.We manage a good two blocks of Bourbon Street before arriving at the Quartermaster which,thankfully is open.With a fairly short queue we figure we're nearing food salvation:It's Friday which if memory serves means oysters and shrimp are available.I yell out my order,am corrected by a resident who archly informs me qm doesn't do either and stand silent as the counter guy tells the lady they do both on Friday but are sold out.

At this point I can't even think clearly but manage to holler for a turkey po boy all the way then notice a ketchup bottle near the prep line and wonder what this non edible product is doing in a good deli.I'm taking no chances,"put everything you got on it but none of the red corn syrup please".We walk back to the room,set the sandwich on the bed and hunker over it like a couple half starved hyenas with a fallen ibex.It is wonderful. It's the first turkey I've had in 2008 which makes me wonder why I don't eat more of this delicious bird.

We zonk out for a few hours arise and make our way over to Ursuline for Croissant d or which has a line leading well out the door and onto the sidewalk.We're in no mood for this so we stroll on down to Cafe Beignet which is frankly a poor substitute for the always sold out Cafe du Monde,the beignets are slightly raw in the middle due to their being about 4 times thicker than standard.We split one and donate the rest to a nice homeless man on the moonwalk.After an hour or so in the morning sun on a bench overlooking the Mississippi we finish up the morning paper and make our way down towards Dragos in the Hilton for our morning oysters just as a calliope player on a big boat starts shooting out 100 decible brainbombs of top pitch noise all over the moonwalk.

Dragos:The staff are so haggard from the night before it's not surprising that even the simplest tasks are beyond their ability.We order the Char grilled oysters and a crab cake which make their way from the kitchen in mere moments.

That's the good part.

Our poor bartender looks like she's about to fall over on the floor like a drunk tumping off a park bench.We get neither napkins nor silver ware and our drink glasses are dry as the Gobi desert.The food is a mixed bag:the crabcake has gone south and I found out the hard way;by putting it in my mouth.The foul rotting crab will haunt me til later in the afternoon when I can drink enough liquor to burn the memory out of my hippocampus.The oysters are sweet and salty,all fire,butter and garlic,some are huge and others medium.Wonderful.The offending crab is summarily stripped off the bill,we pay the bartender and make our way into the glorious day.

I love walking from a sun splashed Fall afternoon into a dark,smoky bar with Johnny Mercer playing.

If I could only choose one such place to spend a nice sojourn drinking high quality Pabst Blue Ribbon on tap it would have to be Evelyn's Place on Chartre Street.Frank is behind the bar and is the picture of sartorial splendor[get the picture?].We sit around for a couple hours as he pontificates on the history of the French Quarter[the glory days are long gone]his septuagenarian sex life[has two 18 year old girls back at his apartment who like to pass him around at night]and how hard it is to get good workers from the local insane asylum where his pm bartenders reside.

Growing restless we say our goodbyes and stroll a bit down Chartre til we see a very promising looking bookstore:Crescent City books appears to've been around forever [actually 16 years or so] and has a very impressive inventory of cookbooks which I hone straight in on.

Paydirt

A Clementine Paddleford cookbook "The Best in American Cooking" from 1970 with 800 recipes!

I'm so excited we decide to celebrate by going to Central Grocery for a big,fat muffaletta.The line is out the door but the workers are pros and 10 minutes later we have our sandwich and are sitting on a nearby stoop feasting in the shade and watching the world walk by.How can it get any better than eating cured meats,vinegary olives and rich cheeses on a crusty loaf of fresh baked bread? We manage to reign ourselves in at the halfway mark.Secure the loaf and stroll the 10 blocks or so back to the Inn to recuperate before we cab it out to Rocky and Carlos.

I love United Cab and in this instance our cabbie is a gem.He breaks down the socio-politics of the Katrina disaster as it relates to race relations as well as the history of the Upper and Lower 9th Wards and St Bernard Parish.All in the 15 minute ride out to Chalmette.Very insightful.He worked for 22 years at nearby Kaiser Aluminum so I ask him what his favorite dish at R n C's is and he tells me the steaks are very good.

I should have listened to him.

We order Soft Shell Crabs[two smallish crabs breaded with unseasoned flour and deep fryed,unremarkable]a Wop Salad[Good crisp greens but served with bland commercial dressing,green can Parm,a couple slices of sweet onion and a handful of decent green olives.]This version had me fantasizing about the sweet little old ladies at Mandina's and their pungent,addictive Italian], Mac and Cheese[the small would have seriously fed a family of four but I wish the flavors had been as generous as the portion]and a Fried Oyster Po Boy which,thankfully is quite good and of course enormous.Ambience is quite nice save for the throaty screeches of a nearby toddler.The joint is flat packed and everybody is feeding well[and huge...these are some of the biggest eaters I've ever seen].Service is fast,you queue up cafeteria style,order and they bring it out to you.I really wanted to love Rocky and Carlos.It looks great,it's been there forever and if I lived nearby I would eat there til I ferreted out the gems of which I'm sure there are plenty but on this day it really made me long for other little neighborhood joints in New Orleans proper.

Strolling into the bright afternoon sunlight I'm all burly like a young bull moose.Rocky and Carlos portions are actually absurd.Texas,where I live,really prides itself on obscenely huge plates of food but the LoneStar state has nothing on Rocky's.

The cab ride back is hair raising as we get in a race with a locomotive and escape by the skin of our teeth.I love speed,danger,excitement etc but this was one for the books.We give benediction upon returning to the room and round out the day at Aunt Tikki's for drinks and a late night visit to Blue Nile for a shakedown by Soul Rebels.The last meal of the day is the rest of the muffaletta from Central Grocery which has ripened nicely in it's own juices.Even better than when it was freshly made.

Sunday morning comes bright and beautiful.After a June brunch at Dante's I've vowed to return for more of their take on Southern cooking.The front man of Dante's is presiding over a packed house.He's agitated but hiding it under a big front of the house smile.We order Satsuma Mimosas,and head to a nearby sideyard for our 40 minute wait.We lounge in the grass sipping our drinks and listening to Nortec Collective,15 or so minutes pass and voila our table is ready.Right about the time I'm thinking about jacking a biscuit off the table of a couple nearby who're concerning themselves with their child[it was at the 30 minute mark] here comes the food.

Worth the wait.

The blackened Mahi special is bright with chiles and mahogany from the cast iron.It's served with soft curds of scrambled eggs,bits of bacon and sits in a cream based sauce.It's intensely delicious.The Gulf Fish cakes are perfectly seared,saltwater fresh and topped with poached eggs.I ladle a big dollop of the stone ground grits we ordered as a side and just make a big,fine mash of the whole affair.The biscuits are only ok on this visit.I guess the little granny woman who used to make them must've croaked out cause this version is nowhere near as good.Not as light and undercooked in the middle,it takes real willpower to finish with all the house strawberry jam I can ladle on them.I don't take cream with my coffee but when the server left the pitcher on the table I downed my coffee,refilled the cup with the cream and just tilted it up and drank it like some kind of complete heathen.It was wonderful,from the good pink teats of a very fine local cow no doubt.

Leaving Dante's we walk a couple miles down the streetcar line til finally growing weary we sprawl out on the grass near the tracks and wait for the car.Riding along it's standing room only with a surprisingly chaffing wind ripping through the ride.We alight near canal and slowly walk back across the quarter stopping occasionally for cocktails in the coming gloom[we're back on Standard Time thankfully].

We're sitting in the room wondering how long it takes to burn off the 3000 calorie[apiece]brunch we'd powered down on when we decide to hit Mimi's in the Marigny for aperitif cocktails.Mimi's is a nice scene[save for the coked out couple who're bounding about the room like a couple addled labrador retrievers].The tapas plates being walked out of the kitchen are nicely plated if tiny.

We finish our drinks and decide to walk down to Frenchman and check out the menu at Yuki.

Yuki is a small, warm room with amber lighting and plenty polished wood.We seat ourselves and are quickly approached by the bartender who doubles as our server.The menu is small plate,Japanese homecooking which we both adore.We start the festivities with a bottle of cold Sake from Yuki's hometown of Shizuoka:Garyubai Junmai Ginjo.It is very good,dry and light with a nutty finish.

The first two food items we order[Seaweed Salad and Kimchee Stew]are
both sold out so we we re-appraise the options before deciding upon starters of Shumai[crab dumplings]and Karaage[Japanese Fried Chicken].

If fried chicken is on any menu put in front of me I'm always down and this version is lovely. Little crispy bits of white meat chicken are dredged in corn starch then flash fried and served with a side of Ponzu for dipping.The real testament is my companion,who normally eats an extremely health conscious diet,running her fingers through the grease that coats the bottom of the plate and licking them clean.A FIRST.The crab dumplings are a generous portion of miniature Reese cup sized bites of tofu richened with minced crab and served with a small ramekin of very good shoyu for dipping.Our waitress resembles a young Lynn Holly Johnson but when I mention this to her she has no idea who she is...she's from Belarus and I guess Ice Castles wasn't a big hit over there.

Next we have Shichimi peppered french fries["a favorite of salarymen"]served with Kewpie mayonnaise.The fries are obviously Ore Ida,which I grew up on.They're expertly cooked and remind me of being 10 years old when my mom turned me loose with the big Fry Daddy that always sat on the kitchen counter.

For dessert we have Yakitori which is normally a house specialty of this style Japanese restaurant.It is only ok.The skewers are generously threaded with several filets of chicken thighs,painted with Teriyaki and sesame oil and grilled.The meat is very rich but the sauce needs more msg to come alive.

After a full day of eating and drinking we can barely stagger back to the Inn before collapsing on the bed,tossing and turning for perhaps 30 seconds and passing out.

Arising bright and early we hear the call of cafe Rose Nicaud which is our neighborhood coffee house.It's a cheery little room[which would normally make me grumpy]with a few tables on the Frenchman street sidewalk.We take our morning coffee as the sun breaks over the retirement home,the barista chews out some street jerk and the magic cleaning truck rolls along making the streets fresh again.I would have loved to try the Cashew pie but at 5 and a half bucks it is just too dear.

The forty minute walk to Cochon is uneventful but the moonwalk is absolutely gorgeous,the brainbomb detonating calliope player is mercifully absent and the Autumn morning is straight from the pen of Mason Cooley.

I love Donald Link.Herbsaint has been one of my favorite restaurants since it opened and I've been fortunate enought to eat at Cochon several times in it's short tenure.We order a couple French 75's[which the waiter had never heard of]as aperitifs and begin studying the menu.I like to pace my own meal so I order periodically so as not to leave it up to either the waiter or the kitchen.We start with a Blackeye pea,pork and greens gumbo which has been prepared by a good hand.The roux is almost black but has been carefully tended to so as not to scorch.More African than Cajun it's a fine way to start the meal.A basket of bread arrives with good butter and we lace in while waiting for the next course.

Next is the wood fired oyster roast.A half dozen medium oysters in the shell spiked with cayenne,garlic and butter.Boudin comes out as balls,breaded and deepfried and improbably fluffy with pork.We finish off with grilled pork ribs lacquered with a sauce that tastes of fire and soda pop.Not as tender as ribs at a good barbecue joint,these are chewy with crispy blackened bits around the edges.They are served with watermelon pickles leading us to praise the deviant who came up with this vinegary lagniappe.

Atmosphere at Cochon is loud.Everything is a hard surface so there's nowhere for the hooting and hollering to go.The soundtrack is oldschool country.Always good to hear Hank Sr and David Allan Coe whilst dining.

We've heard good things about Sucre's so we decide to take a nice long walk over to Magazine and check it out.Sucres has delicious coffee but this is where the real testament to the heartiness of Cochon's food struck us...two chocolate fiends who can't fit one single bon bon or truffle into our maws.We just stand there,slackjawed at how gorgeous[and probably delicious]everything is.The coffee ends up being the best of the trip,not sure where they get their beans but they served up the most balanced cup in town.

We walk a few miles ducking inside the great little shops that sell everything a consumer could desire til we're finally exhausted,hop on a city bus and roll back down towards the Quarter.We alight a couple blocks shy of Canal and stroll along til we hit Evelyn's Place for a little ice cold Pabst and some conversation with Frank.One of his workers come in and his gentle teasing of her and her obvious love for him leaves us with a nice happy glow.We say our good byes and walk back to the Inn to recuperate before an evening of drinks and food.

We realize there's just no point in trying to match the performance of a Cochon which is clearly in it's prime so we decide to just eat a light meal at Fiorellas before drinking the town dry.

My bad.

My companion is a mark for gumbo so her decision is easy.I ask about the crabcake and am assured it's delicious.We soak in the atmosphere for a few minutes and out comes the food.The gumbo tastes like tap water that's been slightly warmed,heavily spiced salted 1then garnished with some half cooked celery.It's gross.The crabcake comes and it's stone cold.I send it back and a replacement comes 15 or so minutes[during which time a man in chef whites walked nearby and sent a hot glowering look towards our table].The new "crabcake" is laughably bad.I'm not sure what sort of relationship this pile of breadcrumbs has with an actual crab[perhaps the bread delivery truck drove near a restaurant that has crab in it's kitchen?]but I'm not eating it.The waitress notices my napkin sitting atop the untouched cake"if they can't get it right a second time I'm comping it".We pay our bill and make our way out of the room.

I wanted to like Fiorella's.The team of servers were sweet,the room shabby in a comforting sort of way and I know this joint has a world of history.I'd love to see the owner hire an actual chef who could turn this into a humble little spot with lots of deliciousness.

Following this bout of nasty food we decide to drown our food sorrows by drinking our way across the Quarter.Old Absinthe house for, of course absinthe[and at 16 bucks for 3 or four milimetres in a rocks glass quite dear]Yo Mamas for nice stout cocktails and finally Mimi's for Chimays and more Pabst.The bartender has a really hefty looking po boy from the Purple Truck parked outside and reports that it's quite good so we grab one around 2 and head back to the room.It's ok.My bar for pulled pork is ridiculously high due to living in central Alabama where options are profligate and central Texas where the Mexicans put it on table and call it carnitas.The Purple Truck is ok,the meat's decent but hampered by a too sweet sauce.We enjoy the pickled cabbage and the bread's good enough but overall there's room for improvement.

We arise bright and early for more Cafe Rose and conversation with the regulars.POLITICS...CRIME...FOOD.Can it get any better?We say our goodbyes and leisurely walk through the Quarter drinking cans of beer,buying Muffalettas for the plane ride and hanging out on the Moonwalk for a bit before deciding to make the final New Orleans meal an epic one.

MILA has received such ardor on the board that we figure it's an extremely safe bet for our ode to the city.This proves to be some sage decision making.Walking in the atmosphere is restrained bordering on starchy.The bar is glowing with a lovely amber light,the main dining room is all fancy hotel chic.Not to my liking but the crowd they're playing to probably thinks it's perfect.But the food.THE FOOD.My god everything is so well thought out and executed it's surreal.The diabolical husband wife team who run this room are working on a level upon which few chefs could ever hope to compete.The bread comes first.Note perfect deep south cornbread is served in petite iron skillets with local butter and a puree of Lima beans.Good yeasty rolls come with and are hot and musky.We start with appetizers of White Sweet Potato soup and salad of mixed greens with the best vinaigrette I've ever put in my mouth.It dawns on me that this is just good old southern cooking wrenched out of the past and brought to right now.The duck breast is fat,fatty and delicious with a caramelized skin and deep blood red meat.It's served on a bed of bright green,lightly braised greens with garlic.MMMMMMM.

Our waiter is really knowledgeable and attends to us amiably.A few minutes pass after the mains and the desserts appear.The housemade banana ice cream is good but very very sweet.I love sugar in all it's forms but this dish is right at treacly.The rice pudding is better,very subtle and barely sweetened.Our two desserts could not have been more opposed.MILA offers this surfeit of deliciousness[3 courses]for $20,easily the best value out of all the restaurants we visited.

We take our leave and walk across the Quarter discussing the city.

The thing that really strikes me about New Orleans is just how civilized everyone is.I read nola daily and am well aware of the crime level.I'm talking about the small interactions you make daily with the people.The little old lady at the coffeeshop,the driver of the streetcar,the retiree sitting next to you at the bar,the guy shopping for meat at Rouses.

Everyone is so friendly and interested in hearing from you.We had great small conversations with many natives and everyone was beyond friendly.It made me long to live in the South[I'm in Austin where the locals mistakenly believe this to be the South].

There's always one bad apple however;our cabbie on the airport run going home is overtly friendly but then the talk turns to politics."It all started going downhill for America when we elected FDR".

A thin trickle of blood starts running out of the corner of my mouth as I bite into my tongue to refrain from lacing into this man."How about them Balfa Brothers?"I neatly turn the conversation to a good safe topic.Which within a few minutes, as Louis Armstrong comes into view turns to talk of what else? Crooks and sociopaths.

Good ol New Orleans.

[Bill Hunt]

Thank you for the detailed and insightful review.

I am heartened, that you enjoyed MiLa. With one reservation (not the one you make over the phone), we enjoyed our meal there too. Still, others have not been quite so kind, and I worry that we ate someplace else, and just *thought* it was MiLa.

If one exchanges dishes, we had a similar experience at Drago's (Hilton Riverside), and the staff had no excuse - no Mardi Gras, no Italian-Irish parade, no nothing. Had I known, I'd have traded you half of my fried shrimp for one of YOUR oysters.

BTW, I know the crab cake that you had. My wife got the same one at Ola, North Shore, O`ahu. I tasted it, though only a tiny bit, as I could smell it almost across the table:
http://chowhound.chow.com/topics/334698 (half way down the thread). I think that your description was a bit more colorful, but I DO know that crab cake. My wife, even more than I.

Again, thanks for the post. You got me on some of these places, but I haven't lived in NOLA, for so very, very long, that I am not surprised.

"Crooks and sociopaths," You had to bring local politics into the conversation, huh? [Grin

]

Hunt

PS Actually, I should not comment on local politics, as I no longer vote in Jefferson (or Orleans) Parish. Still, we seem to elect the same demons in AZ, and I feel like I am almost "home." Hey, how 'bout them Saints? Remember, the Cardinals are but pretenders...