Posted by Erin Zimmer, June 16, 2008 at 9:45 AM
From May 22 to May 31, I traveled across country, from Washington, D.C., to San Francisco, California. Here's a snippet from that week.
Left: Frank's, the muffuletta imposter. Right: Central Grocery's original muffuletta, the superior of the two, even if they look eerily similar here.
Nobody warned me to avoid New Orleans on a Monday. So after miles of building up the city's sandwich staple, the muffuletta, only to find the mother source Central Grocery closed on Mondays, I felt cheated.
Granted, it was Memorial Day Monday, but that didn't matter. Central Grocery is always closed on Mondays. Outside the shop, a herd of us victims huddled, as if awaiting an aproned man with the golden key from inside who would exclusively prepare for us the beautiful stack of ham, Genoa salami, mortadella, provolone and chopped olives on olive oil-drenched, sesame seedy Italian bread. When he never came, I placed an emergency call to New Orleans Times-Picuyane restaurant critic Brett Anderson who revealed, not too surprisingly, that no good alternative exists in the walkable French Quarter.
But we were desperate. On the same block, Frank's, a sit-down restaurant, sadly not a charming Italian market like Central Grocery, had one so we sucked it up, and tried it for comparison purposes. The results, after the jump.
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Posted by Ed Levine, April 21, 2008 at 8:00 AM
'Willie Mae's Scotch House: A New Orleans Love Story'
My friend Brett Anderson and I had come up with a fragile fried chicken plan with almost no margin for error. I was to pick him up at his IACP seminar talk at high noon on the dot, and we would drive to Willie Mae's Scotch House, perhaps the purveyor of the finest fried chicken on the planet. We were going to order a whole mess of chicken, wait the 20 minutes or so it takes Willie Mae's to cook it to order, scarf it down, and drive back to the hotel by 1:30 p.m.—just in time for me to prepare for my 2 p.m. panel. Sounds kind of dicey, don't you think?
The Scotch House, pride and joy of both its octogenarian owner, Willie Mae Seaton, as well as anyone who appreciates perfect fried bird, had been flooded and basically destroyed during Hurricane Katrina. Thanks to the Herculean efforts of the Southern Foodways Alliance, however, it had been rebuilt and was now being run by Willie Mae's great-granddaughter, Kerry Seaton (right).
Our plan was immediately threatened. Brett's panel was running late.
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Posted by Ed Levine, March 29, 2008 at 11:00 AM
Editor's note: Occasionally what looks at first glance to be a conventional guidebook transcends the genre in surprising ways. John T. Edge's Southern Belly is just such a read, which is why I'm pleased that he has allowed us to excerpt selected items from it on Serious Eats, where they appear every other week. —Ed Levine
By John T. Edge | According to the Roman calendar, summer begins in June. Try to tell that to a native of subtropical New Orleans. When it comes to marking the seasons down here, calendars don't count for much. Instead, locals with a sweet tooth will tell you that summer arrives on the Saturday after Easter, when Hansen's Sno Bliz throws open its screen door and serves the first customer on a five-month annual run.
New Orleans is a chockablock with snowball stands, jerry-rigged roadside hus that dispense cones of shaved ice drenched in a saccharine torrent of syrup. But Hansen's–set in a cinder-block rectangle on Tchoupitoulas Street in the city's Uptown neighborhood–is different. The late Ernest and Mary Hansen were the couple who defined that difference, the husband and wife team responsible for making good on the placard behind the counter, the one that reads, "Air-Condition Your Tummy With a Hansen's Snow Bliz."
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Posted by The Gurgling Cod, March 12, 2008 at 8:30 AM
As a serious eater with a commute where a MetroCard is no help at all, I was pleased to see restaurant critic Frank Bruni go beyond Gotham with his Coast to Coast series in the New York Times dining section. I was more pleased to see that one of the spots was in New Orleans, which happened to coincide with a previously planned day-job-related trip there. Make no mistake. Unless it's during Jazzfest or Mardi Gras, it's hard to eat badly in New Orleans.* Pound for pound, it's hard to think of a place that has such depth of excellence from haute to street. I lived in New Orleans for a year in the 1990s, return as often as I can, and had many excellent meals there long before Bruni had to worry about the diacritics on crème brûlée. While I knew that there were dozens of options within yards of the conference I was attending, I was excited about Cochon, and excited about being part of the conversation about Cochon.
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Posted by Blake Killian, January 10, 2008 at 12:45 PM
If you haven't heard of Joel Dondis, just wait, you will. Dondis is quietly (and successfully) building a restaurant empire in New Orleans by creating his own culinary traditions, not to mention opening places like his out-of-the-blue sweet shop on Magazine Street that's becoming a big hit.
I first heard of Dondis when my wife and I were planning our wedding. Being serious eaters, we wanted the best caterer in town, and to us, Joel's Fine Catering was it. That was a few years ago, but I distinctly remember the lamb-chop lollipops on their menu. I'll always wonder how those lollipops would have tasted.
The wedding experienced a little hiccup when Hurricane Katrina blew through and we moved the celebration to our hometown (about 200 miles north in Alexandria, Louisiana). I later learned that immediately following the storm, Dondis temporarily transformed his catering company into sort of a meals-on-wheels to cater food for thousands of evacuees and emergency personnel.
Now, it's back to being one of the best catering companies in the region, and he's since added Joel at the Hampton, a hotel catering service inside the Hampton Inn near the Convention Center downtown. But back to the empire.
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Posted by Blake Killian, December 11, 2007 at 10:00 AM
I was raised in a small town in a rural part of North Louisiana. My mother and grandmother were both exceptional cooks, and my dad always said they could make boot leather taste good—that was high praise indeed.
I'm only in my twenties, but it seems like such a long time ago that I tasted their wonderful, soulful food. To be honest, I wasn't sure I'd ever taste food like that again, but a recent meal at Mila brought it all back to me—and then some.
Mila opened about a month ago in the Renaissance Pere Marquette Hotel in downtown New Orleans in the same space that formerly housed the now defunct Rene Bistro. Bridget was eager to visit Mila, as she had always wanted to eat at Longbranch, the chefs' former restaurant that had opened in the months following Hurricane Katrina.
Although the chefs, Allison Vines-Rushing, a 2004 James Beard Foundation's "Rising Star Chef of the Year" award winner, and her husband Slade Rushing, were young, talented, and devotees of using local, organic fare, we could never make the forty mile trek out to rural Abita Springs. Needless to say, we were excited they had opened a new restaurant closer to home.
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Posted by Zach Brooks, November 29, 2007 at 2:45 PM
Editor's note: We just can't resist bringing you more po' boy info. By happy coincidence, our Serious Sandwich columnist, Zach Brooks, happened to have this sautéed shrimp po' boy on the slate for this week's installment. —Adam
It takes a lot for a new sandwich to get recognized in New Orleans. It's already home to the Central Grocery Muffalatta, plus every type of po' boy imaginable (see Blake Killian's Po' Boy Festival post), including two that I've already written about here (Crabby Jack's duck po' boy and the soft-shelled crab po' boy I had Jazzfest).
Now you can add the sautéed shrimp remoulade po' boy to that list. Shrimp remoulade (like the one from Susan Spicer's new book) is traditionally served chilled, as an appetizer. But Ignatius Eatery, a one-year-old restaurant on Magazine Street uptown (from the owners of Rue de la Course), has taken the Crescent City classic, and turned it into a serious sandwich that is finding its place in a city already known for some pretty amazing sandwiches.
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Posted by Blake Killian, November 29, 2007 at 12:00 PM
Editor's note: This post marks the debut of our new New Orleans bureau chief, Blake Killian. When he's not out and about eating around New Orleans, he's blogging about what he's cooking up in his kitchen at Blake Makes. We're excited to welcome Blake aboard and eager to read all about what's going on in the Big Easy. He'll be along periodically to give us all the lowdown on what's going down in one of America's truly great food cities. —Adam
Unfortunately the idea of a po' boy festival never materialized in food-crazy New Orleans until a couple of weeks ago, so my wife and I were thrilled to attend the first annual Po' Boy Preservation Festival on November 18. The fest to "save our sandwich" was held on Oak Street, a funky lane in the Carrollton neighborhood near Tulane. When I say the street is funky, what I'm really saying is that it's small, narrow and just a little dirty (but isn't everything in New Orleans).
Because this was the festival's first year and I hadn't seen that much publicity for it, I assumed the Po' Boy Festival was going to be an uncrowded, low-key affair with maybe a few hundred people wandering in and out throughout the day. The lack of some of the city's best-known po' boy joints (Domilise's: Where were you and your amazing oyster po' boy?) from the festival guide also led me to believe turn-out might be low. I should have known, however, that where there are po' boys, any po' boys, hungry bellies are never far away. Add live music, free admission and 60 degree weather, and it's a wonder the fire marshal wasn't called in to clear us all out.
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Posted by Melissa Hall, October 19, 2007 at 2:00 PM
Southern Foodways appears on Fridays as part of our collaboration with the Southern Foodways Alliance, an organization based in Oxford, Mississippi, that "documents and celebrates the diverse food cultures of the American South." Dig in!
Chances are, if you don’t happen to live in or around Louisiana you might never have heard of boudin. If you do know about it but don’t live anywhere near where it’s made, you likely got your first taste of boudin courtesy of Calvin Trillin through his essay, "The Missing Links: In Praise of the Cajun Foodstuff That Doesn’t Get Around."
Since boudin is so good, why is it such a secret? Trillin posits a possible answer, “I figure that about 80 percent of the boudin purchased in Louisiana is consumed before the purchaser has left the parking lot, and most of the rest is polished off in the car. In other words, Cajun boudin not only doesn’t get outside the state; it usually doesn’t even get home.”
Another possible answer—boudin is a by-product of hog killing. The stuff a commercial slaughterhouse might discard or sell for animal feed, the boudin enthusiast saves and uses. And, he uses it well. Boudin is made from the parts of the hog that can’t be preserved—liver, hog jaw, belly, heart, kidney, and, sometimes, blood. All the good stuff is ground and mixed with rice, green parsley, green onions, onions, and other secret spices then squeezed into a sausage casing.
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Posted by Ed Levine, April 20, 2007 at 8:00 AM
I have been to the New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival many, many times, yet every time I don't go, I feel that I'm missing something profoundly important. Especially now, with New Orleans's cultural heritage under siege post-Katrina, I am kicking myself that I haven't made plans to go this year.
What makes the festival great to me, however, is not the parade of big-name musicians appearing every day, though it is a unique experience to see artists like Elvis Costello, Bob Dylan, and Bonnie Raitt play in this unique setting.
What makes it great is the local and non–big-name musicians and cooks playing and cooking at the smaller stages and tents.I saw Ricky Dillard practically levitate the Gospel Tent a few years ago, and I had just wandered in there fresh from a Wayne Shorter set, not ever having heard of him.
The food itself is so extraordinary that the music can almost seem like a bonus. I am partial to the cochon de lait po'boy from Love at First Bite and the meat pies from Mrs. Wheat's. My friend Dan Ruby has a terrific music festival website, and there was a great post about meat pies there yesterday by Beth Swindle.
Posted by Ed Levine, March 21, 2006 at 12:47 PM
Galatoire's is (or should I say used to be) one of my favorite New Orleans restaurants. I have had half a dozen meals over the last ten years, and I had never had a bad meal there until two weeks ago. I was with a bunch of restaurant critics from around the country and we just had a dreadful meal. What did we have? Mealy, dry shrimp in many forms and crab meat that tasted suspiciously like it had come from a can; Trout Almandine that was dry and tasteless; and turtle soup that tasted like Campbell's had made it. It's still a cool-looking, timeless kind of place, and it's still possible to have a great time eating there. I only hope it was an off night and not a harbinger of future meals. And, to top it off, Gilbert "Louis" LaFleur, the charming Cajun waiter (Galatoire's is known for having nifty waiters that you can ask for when you walk in the door) we had that night, keeled over and died from a heart attack the next morning. I only wish the last meal he served at his restaurant had been just a little bit better.
Posted by Ed Levine, March 19, 2006 at 12:48 PM
All right, I've said what I had to say about looking at the Katrina carnage in New Orleans. Now I'll move on to the food.
I made three new discoveries this year. Stanley! (1031 Decatur, 504-)s is a fabulous new breakfast and lunch spot on Decatur Street in the French Quarter. Great banana walnut pancakes topped by a scoop of decent vanilla ice cream and some optional Louisiana cane syrup, and an even better eggs benedict-like concoction with killer fried oyters on top. The fried oysters were so good I think I will do as my friend John T. Edge does when he goes to Stanley's, have a plate of fried oysters for breakfast.
I had a disappointing, tasteless roast beef with debris (the shards of meat left in the roasting pan after you take the roast beef out) po'boy at Mother's, but then I more than made up for that lousy sandwich with a transcendent roast beef po' boy from the Parkway Grill and Tavern (538 Hagan Avenue(at Toulouse), 504-482-3047. Plenty of gravy, the best hero roll I've had in NO, just enough tender shards of roast beef, and a squiggle of mayonnaise, lettuce and tomato made up this paradigmatic sandwich.
Finally, the sweet potato turnovers, the biscuits, and the sticky bun at L'Espiga Bakery were outstanding. The city will be back, and so will I. My advice to all of you: You should go see and eat New Orleans now. In my next post I'll talk about the more formal upscale meals I had in New Orleans. Two quick postscripts: For those people who want to take a food guidebook to the Crescent City (or just eat vicariously without leaving their house) I think Pableaux Johnson's Eating New Orleans: From French Quarter Creole Dining to the Perfect Poboy
is a beautifully written treasure trove of information and opinions. And a thank you to the reader who sent me an e-mail telling me that Gerald Ford was President from August 9, 1974 to January 20, 1977, not the early eighties, which is what I wrote in my first New Orleans post.
