Luke New Orleans: Mmm, Oyster Salad

Luke Restaurant
333 St Charles Ave
New Orleans, LA 70130
(504) 378-2840


I would like to draw your attention to the tastiest dish at New Orleans' Luke restaurant, celebrity chef John Besh's stab at a French lunch joint. Luke is a good restaurant, the kind of place me and my friends go to a lot out of force of habit - Besh with somewhat reasonable prices, and a nice, rather roaring-twenties atmosphere. (They do serve wine in glasses. I don't approve).



The best thing on the menu if you're going around asking me (you fool) is the fried oyster salad with bacon and avocado. Something about the synthesis of flavors is absolutely perfect, combining three of my favorite foodstuffs in the world into one single, delicious dish. Do not fail to order this. With a cup of (dark, rouxy) gumbo, you won't break the bank and have a very tasty meal.



They also have really good, double-fried fries (frites, whatever) which are served in a paper cup so you know they're fancy. But they are indeed delicious, possibly the best in town, and complement well with the enormous Luke burger. They serve it on a wood block.

Luke is populated mostly by business people doing deals and people staying at the Hilton it's inside of. Service can be hit or miss - our most recent visit was rather slow, and the AC, like many New Orleans ACs, seemed to be intent on killing us. But that's the nature of the beast. Go and eat that salad.

Mandinas: Old School Creole Food, Epic Fried Oyster Salad

Mandinas
3800 Canal Street
New Orleans
(504) 482-9179

Mandinas is one of those New Orleans institutions, the sort of restaurant that has been around since roughly the dawn of time (well, 1932) and has cultivated an equally antique customer base. Serving Creole classics, Italian dishes, po-boys and steaks to an always-considerable crowd, it's difficult to believe that this stalwart was almost brought down by Hurricane Katrina. Believe it: the restaurant was flooded and nearly destroyed during Katrina, but the resilient Mandina family rebuilt, remodeled, and reopened in the original location on Canal Street. The menu and interior ambience were changed as little as humanly possible. This is a city that values old stuff.


My family and I headed to Mandinas right before Newcomb-Tulane's equally oldy moldy Under the Oaks Ceremony. I would, perhaps inadvisably, be receiving an award recognizing my Newcomb Grant last summer. There was no question of chowing down before hand. (I would later be the only person at the ceremony not wearing a cap and gown because no one had told me such was the dress code. But at least I had a swell lunch).



We began with the shrimp remoulade, which was a very generous serving of perfectly boiled shrimp in a thick, creamy, and just spicy enough sauce. Remoulade is one of those things that can be horrifyingly manhandled by lousy restaurants, but Mandinas demonstrates how to do it right: a nice interplay of tangy flavors in tandem with sweet shrimp meat. Aces.



Most of us had the gumbo. The gumbo, much to our surprise, tasted almost exactly like the Dupuy family recipe, right down to its appearance. I have to wonder if our family recipe and the Mandina family recipe perhaps hailed from the same source somewhere in the mists of time - both families were, after all, resident in New Orleans during the same era. Needless to say, I liked this light-colored tomato gumbo a whole lot: plenty of shrimp, plenty of okra, tomatoes, oysters, and sausage, without a ton of dark roux flavoring. Needed to be kicked in the ass a little bit with some Crystal, but this is also true of the almighty family recipe. Not everyone likes their mouth to burn when consuming gumbo. I do maintain that these people are wusses.



Miss Hilda's Salad is one of the restaurant's stalwart recipes, and the ginormous "side" salad didn't disappoint. It's basically a New Orleans chef salad with a couple kinds of cheese, anchovies, diced ham, turkey, and salami, egg, shrimp, and various herbs, served on a bed of greens. A gravy boat of dressing is provided on the side. Not sure I want to know what happens when you let them dress it. In any case, excellent and a nice fresh counterpart to the other menu options.



This fried oyster salad was slightly monolithic. The crisp, fresh fried oysters were very good specimens of the genre, and we enjoyed them. Except there were so many that we almost couldn't finish them, which is a remarkable and perhaps unheard of phenomena in this oyster obsessed family. I picked up the slack on the crispy bivalves of course, being a giving sort of gal. Call me the 102 Pound Garbage Disposal, and you'll pretty much be right on.

Mandinas is confident enough to shun credit and debit cards at the register. Bring cash.

The American Sector: Great War Flavored!

The American Sector
945 Magazine Street
New Orleans, LA 70130
Entrance on Andrew Higgins Drive

John Besh is big in New Orleans. Real big. The blonde and wholesome looking Cajun chef has decisvely out gunned and out-charismaed "fuzzball" Emeril Lagasse as NOLA's predominant celebrity hash-slinger, boasting Restaurant August, La Provence, Luke, Besh Steakhouse and other popular eateries in his ever-increasing portfolio. The American Sector represents Besh's foray into "themed" dining, operating as it does under the historical auspices of the National WWII Museum.

The name, "American Sector," apparantly is a reference to what that particular chunk of the Warehouse District was entitled in pre USA days. The restaurant name is controversial among some New Orleanians: some view it as an attempt to white-wash or Americanize what was never a very culturally "American" chunk of the city in the first place. Decide what you want. Let's talk food.


Complimentary bread and butter pickles. Very good.

The menu is supposed to represent WWII era favorites in tandem with Southern soul food classics, all screwed around with in Besh's signature upscale manner. There's an impressive mixed drink selection, lots of appealing looking small snacks, sandwiches, and some sort of overpriced looking entrees. I began with a special blueberry mojito prepared with fresh berry pulp, which was a winner: not sickeningly sweet or insipid like many fruit drinks, and a good hard pour. (Gettin' liquored up at lunch time: another delightful tradition of the 1940s!)



My dad chose the spicy garlic glazed fried chicken with an assortment of pickles (9.50). It's a snack size type thing and consisted of lightly fried chicken drumettes with a vague sort of garlic flavor - all right, nothing particularly exciting. The assorted pickles that accompanied it were, however, quite nice: watermelon rind, beet, and one other. I wish relish trays would come back.



I went with the shrimp and sausage gumbo with sassafras (6.00) which was pretty standout: a dark, deep, funky roux with a generous amount of seafood and andouille. Some would probably consider it a "muddy" gumbo but I liked the deep funk and the rich, fatty flavor of the stuff: would order again. I ordered the collard greens (4.00) to go with: a big "eh". Not enough meat flavoring and cut into large and awkward chunks - I wouldn't bother.



I also tried the crab ravigote salad with avocado and bacon (12.50), which was a nice riff on a typical New Orleans crab preparation. The ravigote sauce was light and nicely lemon scented without becoming overbearing, and the deep fried avocado was a surprising and delicious touch. Besh knows how to source superb bacon, as evidenced by the meaty chunks found here.

On the whole, the American Sector offers an alluringly up-market choice within the museum, and might even be worth a special trip for visitors who'd like to sample Besh's cooking without dressing up or emptying out their pocket-books. The dining room is a bit chilly (both temperature wise and in terms of decor,) so don't schedule a romantic date here unless you both really get off on 40's kitsch. I'll try not to judge you.


Speaking of Besh, personally. Have seen the guy attending the downtown farmers market with his equally charismatic black hunting labrador retriever. Seemed to be authentically nice as hell. Wish I could gleefully relate that he was a grade A douche-bag who demanded personalized squashes in the shape of alligators for his restaurant menu, I really do, but that is Not The Truth.

Franky and Johnny's and Giant Stuffed Artichokes

Franky and Johnny's
Neighborhood Restaurant & Lounge
321 Arabella Street
New Orleans, LA. 70115
(504) 899-9146


Franky and Johnny's is a classic-style New Orleans neighborhood restaurant, featuring red checkered table clothes, large and stolid waitresses, and a menu hitting on just about every Louisiana-type treat there is. It's an excellent place to take company if you find them clamoring for a Real New Orleans meal: this is it, down to the electronic poker machines, the omnipresent Jager shots, and the crowds of folks horking down boiled crawfish when the season is right and Jupiter aligns with Mars. This is of course alluring, and thus, my buddy Cassidy, his (awesome) mother and our friend Pieter visited Frankie and Johnny's on a recent winter evening.



I love boiled shrimp to distraction, and Frankie and Johnnie's does the best version I've had in the area thus far. They pick extremely large shrimp, they keep them in the shell, and the spice combination used is just plain delicious. My only gripe is that I sure wish they served them warm - but it's damn hard to find a warm boiled shrimp in this city, unless you're at Big Fisherman at just the right time of day. What's up with that?



This monstrosity is a stuffed artichoke, which translates as "an artichoke coated in enough breadcrumbs, parmesan cheese, and herbs to kill most mammals." Needless to say it's a pretty tasty dish, although the breadcrumb filling can get rather monotonous after a few intensively carby bites. Here's the recipe, helpfully provided by the delightful Gumbo Pages. There's bacon involved. God bless Louisiana.



Red beans and rice with sausage, the classic, Monday-morning and evening succor, you get the picture. I'm going to fess up and say I don't quite get red beans and rice, not really. I'm not a big carbohydrate devourer, and as this dish is the epitome of inexpensive carbos, doesn't quite get my motor runnin'. But this was a pretty good rendition of such, with a good smoky flavor and a grainy, greasy and indulgent hunk o' sausage on the side. Could have been spicier but I guess that's why the baby Jesus invented Crystal hot sauce.



Gumbo, go figure, of course I'm going to get the damn gumbo. This was only okay: there was plenty of seafood in it, yeah, that was nice, but it was too thick and didn't quite possess the intense, deep dark flavor I demand from my gumbo. I might try it sans rice next time I'm here and see if that helps out with the texture any.


On the whole, Franky and Johnny's is a nice option for New Orleans food in the uptown Garden District, which can be curiously bereft of local-style food in the university area. It's an ideal place to screw around with a bunch of friends when you want some inexpensive local-style food and don't particularly care about the ambience, and we all need a little of THAT in our lives.

Bourbon House New Orleans, Cold Ass Weather

Bourbon House
144 Bourbon Street
New Orleans, LA 70130
(504) 522-0111

On a recent mind-blowingly cold Saturday, a friend and I decided to stop in for lunch at Dickie Brennan's Bourbon House, another outpost of the eponymous patriarch's restaurant empire. It's a beautiful space, located on Bourbon just about right off Canal - the dining room is huge and bathed in yellow and cream tones, with a huge granite oyster bar, and luxuriously appointed fittings for the rest of the space. The menu hits on the usual armada of New Orleans classics, with slightly higher prices then is perhaps standard. You're paying for the room, in the end. But the food is good, high quality, and nicely thought out, and the oysters on the half shell come from P&J and surely qualify as The Good Kind.



We tried the crab fingers Bordelaise as a starter, which came out in an uber rich and delicious lemon-butter garlic and parsley sauce. A really nice dish with a commitment to the cholesterol that made this city grand. Only complaint - could have been a teeny bit warmer.



I had the gumbo. I always have the gumbo. That's my MO. This gumbo? Pretty good, but not a standout in the category - there just wasn't enough STUFF in it. I wanted more meaty bits of seafood, and I wanted less in the way of a thick, thick roux, I wanted more down and dirty flavor. This was a refined gumbo, that you might take home to meet your mama, but I don't really want that. There was an interesting almost boozy flavor to this, that I couldn't properly identify.

We also had a delicious frozen bourbon milk punch, the sort of boozy, milky, semi-evil beverage that defines something essential about the New Orleans pysche. This aspect of the psyche may be encapsulated by the phrase, "Fuck-it-this-tastes-good-even-if-it-kills-me."

(Cold weather is an affront in New Orleans, a smack in the face to the laws of reality, something that cannot and should not be borne in any reasonable or just universe. Everyone walks around with thousand mile stares, dressing in fifteen different layers, since most people don't possess hi-performance parkas, everyone is gazing up at the sky with expressions of hatred and repentance, everyone is wondering if this will ever end. The palm trees look defeated and so do the rhododendron, so does everything, and people sit closer together on the streetcar then they normally would, making small talk. Yes, I hate cold weather in New Orleans, I hate it.)

airport gumbo: praline connection

Airport food is generally a black and depressing void in the culinary landscape, but some exceptions exist. One grows tired of pre-fab salads, warmed-over McDonalds fare, and stale bagel-wiches - but the New Orleans airport humanely provides an outpost of the Praline Connection, Frenchman Street's soul-food emporium. It's not fine-dining, but the availability of real Southern food in the airport context is a wonderful thing.



Collard greens with Crystal hot sauce on top. Salty, meaty, pot-likker infused, finely cut. I really enjoy these greens. Even more so in the airport with a bunch of rubes eating Subway sandwiches sitting all around me. Should have grabbed some cornbread to crumble up in these but you can't have it all.



File gumbo. The lady asked me if I wanted a gumbo crab. Oh hell yes, woman, I want me a gumbo crab, perhaps two or three. I messily devoured the gumbo crabs in the dining area, after taking roughly half a roll of paper towels with me: I may or may not have used pretty much all of them. I like the Connection's gumbo because it is funky and because it has Stuff in it, much of it difficult to identify. There's usually bone-in chicken, sausage, shrimp, and meat-bits in this particular gumbo. Zap it with some Crystal and you're good to go. I can think of few better calorie sources prior to a cross-country flight to somewhere far away from good New Orleans food.

Desire Oyster Bar: What Did You Do To Them Innocent Bivalves

Desire Oyster Bar
300 Bourbon St
New Orleans, LA 70130
(504) 586-0300


There are roughly a zillion oyster bars on Bourbon Street, and everyone finds themself slipping into a relationship with a favorite. For me, it is Felix's. The non-oyster related food is terrible and I cannot recall the last time I have ever sat down, but the price is right, the shuckers are convivial, and I can knock a shot of Jager and a dozen raw in relative peace and harmony. These things are important in life, these are what keep me animated and going forward.

Anyhow, I decided to give Desire a shot because I am making a concentrated effort to try as many restaurants as possibly in New Orleans, even when every particle of my being just wants to slip into a relationship with a place and stop my wild-catting around, to extend a metaphor to an uncomfortable degree. So, Desire. It is located within the Royal Sonesta Hotel and is fairly nice inside, with an old-fashioned tile decor and a display of fresh fruit and veg that probably is not actually used in anything. The place does a cracking business via an endless stream of tourists. Watch out on Saturday.



A dozen raw. Yuck. These were not good oysters, and I sort of considered not eating them: a bad oyster is not just a culinary disappointment but potentially deadly, and I didn't need that kind of cramp in my stye. These were undersized and slightly warm. Also, they make your horseradish sauce for you, with enough horseradish to actually kill a horse. As half my enjoyment of oysters stems from producing my own horseradish sauce concotion/debating with my dining companions about merits of said horseradish sauce - this was quite a depressing experience. I have to stop writing about this now or I may begin to cry. I did not get sick from these. Just FYI.



Turtle soup. Okay. Lots of sherry flavor, lots of turtle-meat pieces. Not Commanders Palace status but acceptable enough with some crackers crumbled innit. Very boozy. I would like to see an industrial turtle farm someday. Just for kicks.

We also had boiled shrimp, which I did not photograph. (To use shrimp in the singular form is ugly and I don't like it when you do it). Merely okay. I prefer these suckers with the heads on. Some of us derive a great amount of pleasure from the head, uh, butter. Admittedly this is highly antisocial behavior if one is not eating somewhere in Guangzhou but I do not let that stop me, ever. This could explain my love life. I would, to summarize, eat the shrimp again but only if I had nothing else available. Such as something cooked in Guangzhou.


The Desire Oyster bar warrants a large "bleh," especially because an oyster bar serving mediocre and lukewarm oysters is simply inexcusable. If one does not have a truly superior oyster hookup, one should revise one's business plan. Extensively. Their menu of various other New Orleans specialities may be acceptable, but I doubt I will bother to return anytime soon.

The Praline Connection: Sou Food, Gumbo Crabs, Chicken Livers

The Praline Connection
542 Frenchmen Street
New Orleans, LA 70116-2024
(504) 943-3934


The Praline Connection is a soul-food joint in the Faubourg Marigny, on the eternally-hip Frenchman street. The restaurant has been around for a healthy length of time now, even expanding into the usually cuisine-bereft confines of the New Orleans airport, god bless them. So how's the food?

The menu covers all the soul food bases, with a healthy dose of Creole and Cajun foodstuffs: think fried chicken with mac and cheese, lima beans with various meats, fried chicken livers, stuffed crabs, meatloaf, BBQ ribs, jamabalaya, and other usual suspects. Concerns about fat and calories are checked decsively at the door, as they damned well should be. (You can buy some pralines - no kiddin' - at the candy counter next to the dining room).



My friend chose the fried chicken with macaroni and cheese and collards, a big-ass portion at $12.95. Pretty darn good fried bird here: not too much batter, flavorful and juicy in the center, the whole nine-yards. He reported the macaroni and cheese had egg in it, which was mildly unusual, but was otherwise tasty.



I was tempted by the turkey wings, but ordered the file gumbo - I'm out to try every damn gumbo I can get my paws on in this city, and I'd heard the Praline Connection had a pretty worthy entrant. I ended up loving this: it's a thin, soup-style gumbo with a ton of earthy, funky flavor. This occurs because the kitchen seems to dump in as many left-over variety meats as they can into the gumbo pot, producing rich flavor and a profusion of interesting stuff in the bowl. Sausage, gumbo crabs, bone-in chicken pieces, shrimp, you name it, it's probably in there. This is just the way I like my gumbo. Pickier types may want to leave well enough alone, but you shouldn't be encouraged to be a big fat wuss either. Wuss.



I also had a side of collards, and was very pleased with em'. These are obviously traditional Southern style greens, chopped fine and cooked until the nutrients are sucked out of them - this is why you drink the pot likker. These are, needless to say, nothing even approaching vegetarian food as evidenced by their richly porky flavor. The free corn-bread block that came with the meal proved perfect for crumbling into the greens.

Napoleon House New Orleans: Good Food, No Napoleon

Napoleon House
500 Chartres St
New Orleans, LA 70130-2110
(504) 524-9752


The Napoleon House in the 1930's.

The Napoleon House is old. As the legend goes, the 200 year old building was first occupied by one Nicholas Girod, the mayor of New Orleans from 1812 to 1815. Ever the altruist, the ardently French Girod offered up his humble Louisiana dwelling to the exiled French conqueror. The potential adultation and publicity that Napoleon's entry into the Crescent City might have brought was, presumably, secondary in his mind. Girod even went so far as to commision the ship Seraphine - an integral part of a plan to rescue the Emperor from St. Helena by way of Dominique. Napoleon never showed and the plot never went through, but the Napoleon House soldiered on, becoming an iconic and never-changing bar, restaurant, and hangout for an assemblage of bums, writers, and tourists. Mostly tourists.

The place does have a faded, oldy-moldy ambience that's extremely pleasant, with dressed-up and efficient staff and a nicely considered menu. Even better? Prices are startlingly cheap, a minor miracle in the ridiculously marked Quarter. There's usually a line - goddamn vacationers, curse them and their economic- stimulating dollars! - so plan accordingly.



Pimms Cups are the Napoleon House's signature drink, a deceptively simple mixture of British gin, lemonade, a bit of Sprite, and cucumber. They're pretty things, served up in a tall glass, and are remarkably refreshing on a hot day - as last Saturday was. Hot days in November are about 95% of why I am going to school here.



My never-ending seafood gumbo quest saw its continuation with the Napoleon House's version ($6.95). I was extremely pleased. I love super-thick okra gumbo with lots of stuff in it, and this didn't disappoint, with a consistency more like a thick, unctuous, roux-thick sauce then a soup. It even came with half a gumbo crab, and gumbo crabs always fill me with love and celestial tolerance for my fellow man, which is a pretty goddamn rare thing around here. My only complaint is it coulda been a bigger portion.



We shared a large Greek salad ($6.75) with balsamic-honey dressing, marinated red peppers, sesame seed, and feta cheese, on a bed of spinach. An unorthodox salad but pretty damn tasty, and you could tell they were using nice cheese on this sucker. The salads here are quite interesting - they really seem to think them out and go beyond the usual "slap some romaine on a plate" routine". Aces.



My friend opted for the perennial favorite of a loaded baked potato. Big as yer head and covered in bacon and cheese, this was gooooddd. The British call these things "jacket potatoes". Further proof they're probably not actual humans but instead despots from Planet Zarg.

I think I'll definitely be back for a reprisal of that tasty, mighty thick gumbo. The rest of the menu sounds like primo up-scale bar snacks as well - antipasto salads, cheese plates, charcuterie boards, and a lovely looking toasted muffaletta. Conclusion? Sometimes those damn tourists know a thing or two. Come on down, order some booze, eat some food, and sit back and enjoy the Quarter.

You can even pretend to be Napoleon in a reprisal of every movie insane asylum scene ever. (Seriously, why do they do that?) They'll probably kick you out, but the choice? Baby, it is yours.

Fiorellas in the French Quarter

My gumbo journey through the French Quarter continues. It's been an interesting wander through the FQ's eateries, all in search of the perfect gumbo, the gumbo of my dreams, an Fiorella's was my latest mark. How does the place stack up?

Fiorella's is known mostly for fried chicken and a general assortment of Louisiana food. It's a small, funky place inside, and the outside usually hosts a healthy number of folks engaging in New Orlean's favorite sport: chain-smoking, drinking, and eating fried food. They're known for fried dill pickles. Haven't tried em'. (What do they say about this place? "After a New Orleans meal, you're always sure of your gallbladder?" Think I lifted that from Sarah Roahen's Gumbo Tales...)

I sat down and ordered me some gumbo and a Greek salad. Took a bit longer then I felt might be required to do gumbo and a Greek salad, but the servers were cute/heavily tattooed (as a good French Quarter waitress dang well should be).



The gumbo was the andouille, shrimp, and chicken variety. Verdict? Too dang thick for my tastes, without a ton of the rich, roux-a-riffic flavor that really gets my motor going. Wasn't bad, just too nondescript for my tastes, and wasn't hot enough temperature-wise either. That's a common complaint with gumbos. I am biased against andouille, as I come from a family that does ham instead. A few shrimps up in there, maybe could have used more.



The Greek salad was surprisingly delightful, with a small mountain of stinky grated parmesan, lots of feta, and a nice herby vinaigrette that probably had more cheese in it. A pretty nice effort and rather authentic to American style greek salad (ie, YUM CHEESE).

Sara Roahen Discusses Gumbo Tales at the Garden District Book Shop

Sara Roahen Speaks at Garden District Book Shop


 Garden District Bookshop owner Britton Trice introduces Sara Roahen.

"Gumbo Tales" author Sara Roahen spoke to the Book Shop's Cookbook Club Monday, discussing her book and the pleasures of the New Orleans table. "Gumbo Tales" is the subject of this years One Book New Orleans program, and the book's journey through a host of the Crescent City's favorite dishes is a real delight to read. Roahen brings alive the characters and flavors that define the way New Orleans eats, from artisan snowball makers to the folks who run Liuzza's at the Track to Miss Lovie's seafood gumbo. Scrupulously researched and vividly written, Gumbo Tales is an unmissable read for anyone interested in the history and the stories behind our city's cuisine.

A podcast of the discussion at the Cookbook Club may be downloaded here.



The Garden District Book Shop Cookbook Club is all about food, and participants brought a host of delicious treats to share. One Book New Orleans representatives provided an entire turducken and oyster dressing from Langensteins, as well as a big plater of home-made Vietnamese banh mi sandwiches.


The turducken prior to carving.

Yes, folks, that's what a turducken looks like. It's a turkey stuffed with a duck stuffed with a hen. With stuffing in it. Chef Paul Prudhomme, never one to shy from decadence, is said to have invented these beasts not too long ago, and they've been popular ever since. Some gourmets revile the mighty Turducken as too over the top, a heinous display of unbridled decadence, but I gotta say, the flavor was just plain delicious. Just don't think about the entire process too much.


Carving the mighty turducken.

Sara Roahen's adventure in turducken making can be read at the Gambit's website. I quote: " The turducken offers no excuses. A deboned, stuffed chicken enfolded in a deboned, stuffed duck sewn into a deboned, stuffed turkey, roasted together for a quarter of a day and wetted with duck fat gravy -- what could it possibly say in its own defense?"



The pork banh-mi were delicious as well, with fresh French bread, crunchy Vietnamese daikon and carrot slaw, mayonaisse, and lemongrass pork. Banh mi derive from Vietnam's French colonial years, and are derived from the French countryside "salad sandwich". They've become increasingly popular around the USA and are available in many venues in New Orleans: lemongrass chicken, pate, Vietnamese meatballs, tofu, and other protein sources form common filling.

Roahen wrote about Vietnamese food's impact on the local cuisine in "Gumbo Tales" - during the bookclub discussion, that section of the book prompted a hilarious discussion about the consumption of fertilized duck eggs (balut), which are considered a nice special-occasion food in Southeast Asia. Don't click on that Wikipedia link if you're eating something.

Banh mi are often referred to as "Vietnamese po-boy's" on local menus. I can see it.

For dessert, we had made-to-order snoballs, provided by William's Plum Street Snoballs, complete with all those esoteric cream flavors we love so well.





These folks are the official snoball suppliers at Jazzfest, in case you were wondering where the heck you'd seen them before. They were just the refreshing thing after a big ol' slab of turducken.



Snoball making in action. The portable snoball machine is a pretty handy piece of machinery.



We also had Langenstein's oyster dressing....



Miniature pies from the Real Pie Man, alongside some other treats....



Crawfish corn bread....



A home-made chess pie....



Marinated shrimp....



7 layer dip.....



And a host of other dishes, including some grade-A red beans and rice.

The Cookbook Club meeting and Sara Roahen's talk proved to be a big success, combining gastronomical pleasure and an illuminating discussion of the art of food writing. Next meeting is November 9th. Now you know why you should turn out.

One Book New Orleans will be conducting a variety of events revolving around "Gumbo Tales" this fall: check out the schedule on their website.

The New Orleans Seafood Festival

The New Orleans Seafood Festival is a celebration of the sea critters that we dearly love to devour. Now in its third year, the Fest features food booths from a variety of local restaurants, live music, cooking demonstrations, and other vaguely-seafood themed attractions. The proceeds for the event benefit the Lousiana Hospitality Association. Think that means hotels and whatnot, but I could be wrong.


Oysters on the grill.

It was incredibly, incredibly hot on Saturday, but I worked through the pain to meet my friends at Fulton Square, next door to Harrah's hotel. We nipped in to grab an adult beverage or two, then surveyed the food options (while standing next to a lovely mist-emitting fan).



We just missed renowned local chef Frank Brigsten. He was demonstrating how to cook something or other. I desperately want to visit his restaurant, Brigstens - which is known for its gigantic and reportedly delicious mixed seafood platter.



Drago's restaurant is known almost entirely for its chargrilled oysters, an extremely popular dish in these parts. (As if adding huge amounts of butter, herbs, and breadcrumbs to oysters could be anything but popular). These were pretty good, although the oysters had shriveled a bit under the heat of the flames.



Seafood boudin? Seafood boudin! Boudin is of course Louisiana's rather unusual rice-and-meat filled sausage, usually prepared with pig but occasionally jazzed up seafood. Couldn't decide quite how I felt about this: never have eaten anything quite like it, but the sausage treatment renders seafood a bit dry.



Crab cakes with a spicy remoulade sauce. These were okay: I prefer the chunkier style of crabcake, with less breading and bigger pieces of crab. These had a smooth texture, almost like a pate.



Fish ceviche with lime, onions, and jalapeno. There's about a million different ways to prepare ceviche, and this fishy version hit the spot: nice and tangy, and even better with some crackers crumbled into it. There was also Mexican-style shrimp cocktail on offer, but I didn't partake.


No one had any soft shell crabs! That's tragic, a travesty. Soft shell crabs are in my opinion about as good as it gets vis a vis New Orleans seafood eating, at least on par with elegant puppy-drum preparations and tremendous piles of steaming, vermillion crawdads. We were filled with sorrow.



Speaking of crawdads, this photo was delightful. I want a poster.