Eating Out: NOLA

I'm at the end of my posts about New Orleans and I'm bummed. New Orleans is a paradise for food. It's a paradise for living. Really.

I've had a lot of people ask me with this sort of sad, puppy-dog look, "How was it? Still pretty messed up, huh? Pretty depressing?" like our visit was something we trudged through, making the best of things and sighing as we laid down our credit cards. It really wasn't.

I can't speak with any authority on the pre-Katrina New Orleans because this was my first visit but I was impressed. I was happy. I was probably the happiest I've been in my life, save the first days of our engagement and the week of our wedding. The food, the heat, and the history of the city... all of that made me feel peaceful and I beamed with happiness all day long but what I loved best were the people. Everywhere we went, we met people and spent hours talking and laughing. We were kind of like this the whole time:


Could it be this way in LA? I don't know; I don't think so. Could you go to a goth club at 2 a.m., dressed to the nines after a fancy dinner out and not only be welcomed with smiles but sit around chatting with a guy in a top hat and eyeliner and a pale girl in black wings? I don't think so. It seems like in LA, there's a constant critique going on, a questioning: do you belong here? But in New Orleans, it's almost assumed you belong by virtue of you being there.

Katrina changed the city, don't get me wrong, and there are parts of the city-- particularly the ninth ward-- that will make you weep. There is still work going on all around the city and trailers parked here and there but visiting the city isn't a pitiful experience by any means. It's possible to visit and not really be aware that something so awful happened not so long about. Go and spend your money if you want to support New Orleans; it's the best way to keep the city on its road to recovery and it's just an amazing place to be.

But this post is supposed to be about NOLA and here I am, getting a philosophical and shit. Here's some bread-- jalapeño cornbread was my favorite:

NOLA is an Emeril restaurant. I don't really watch cooking shows. I like America's Test Kitchen and I'll watch an episode of the Barefoot Contessa every once in a while. Top Chef and No Reservations are other favorites but they seem like cooking shows to me no more than watching a Dodger's game qualifies as an exercise show. The fact that this is an Emeril restaurant did pretty much nothing for me. Okay, I'll admit it. I find Emeril to be a sort of dorky phenomenon and I did overhear a "bam!" from a corner of the restaurant towards the end of our meal, but who cares? He's a great restaurateur and this was a heavenly meal. The service is as strong as the service at Commander's (quite a statement) though the diners are packed in more tightly (not a bad thing necessarily-- we had a great time getting to know the couple to one side (though not such a great time with the party of eight who'd obviously had some quality time on Bourbon Street before coming to dinner.))

Patrick ordered the chef's tasting menu, and his meal started with this lovely, classic salad with caviar, salmon and creme fraiche topped blinis:

I had the arugula salad with parmesan and shaved bresola. I told myself that I wouldn't eat the entire thing. After all, we had three more courses coming after this, but I really could not help myself:

Next, Patrick had mango enchiladas stuffed with crawfish:

And I had the baked gulf oysters and crabmeat with garlic and butter and breadcrumbs. Both were so, so good. I was asked if I wanted some bread to sop up the sauce that remained in each clever little cup once the meat was gone. Yes, I did, but I also wanted to live to see the next day and feared those few additional fatty bites would push me from the world of "food coma" to "real coma". I passed.

Next came Patrick's flat-iron steak:

And here is my hickory-roasted duck. Ah, such heaven:

I needed to visit the little girls' and was taken there by the arm by one of the male waitstaff, an odd little custom that I was surprised I enjoyed. When I came back, dessert was waiting. We lingered over pecan pie, totally stupefied by all we'd just consumed.

It was our most expensive meal of the trip but absolutely worth it (by LA standards, it was a bargain.) Patrick says that the meal was awesome, though he preferred his meal at Commander's, which he said was "like preferring a Mercedes over a BMW." When you visit the city, go to both and expect to take a long walk after each meal.