Return to Cochon Butcher: Bacon BLTs Basically Best Thing Ever

Cochon Butcher
930 Tchoupitoulas, New Orleans LA
70130 504-588-PORK

I have to say, this trip to New Orleans was less of an exploratory venture and more of a Greatest Hits Parade. I was more interested in eating things I knew were good and that had occupied my mind over the past year, and less interested in the dark art of "experimentation." I knew Cochon Butcher was good, I wanted a delicious sandwich, and my boyfriend and I were meeting my parents for lunch. Done and done and done. Also, I was in dire need of a mimosa.

Cochon Butcher is beloved NOLA chef's Donald Link and Stephen Stryjewski’s venture into the sammich shop and artisan meat genre, and it is has been pretty strikingly successful in the couple of years it's been open.

This is probably because 1. it's good, and 2. the prices are reasonable and 3. it's casual, order up at the front dining, which New Orleans doesn't have enough of.

Once you get past the hipsterish vibe and clientele (but NOLA hipsters are a lot easy to swallow then the regular kind), it's likely to be one of your favorite places to eat in town. There's also pick-up-yourself catering (they did a fabulous job for my graduation party last year) and a full assortment of cured meats, made in house. It's the South's riff on an old-world butcher shop, and it is good.

The menu revolves around a standard complement of sandwiches, boucherie sampler plates, a bunch of small-plate specials and some other random stuff they put on the board when they come up with it, as well as some side-dishes. There's also a full complement of alcoholic beverages - I mean, this is New Orleans - and some very interesting beers if you're into that sort of thing. We got mimosas. I love mimosas.



I had the pressed bacon and collard green BLT. A scandalously good sandwich, like the best grilled cheese ever, with big-thick bacon and lots of oozing, delicious Swiss cheese and some softly cooked collards to add a little bit of bite to the entire affair. I could eat this everyday.



My mom and my boyfriend both went for the North Carolina style pulled pork sandwich which my father, a Real Live North Carolina Boy deemed to be authentic - had a vinegar sauce on it and pickles and some coleslaw and a large soft bun, following protocol. Obviously slow-cooked for a long time. No bullshit involving cheese. Nicely done.



And then we ordered a muffaletta, as one does in NOLA, and it was also enormous, as they are supposed to be. I was never a huge muff (teehee) fan, mostly because they're too damn thick to get into my mouth, but this was a nice effort - I like how they get the bread a little toasted before slapping the entire affair together.



They also had boudin - Lousiana's beloved and somewhat curious sausage composed of rice and pork and spices - served with pickles and mustards, and it's some awfully tasty stuff. Something about the starchiness of the rice really works. They also had the relatively un-attractively named "beanie weanie" special - okay, did anyone else grow up with an intrinsic, horrified revulsion of beanie weanies? - but in this case, it was just red beans and andouille cooked together in a smoky barbeque sauce, and it was good. I just found it sort of hard to get over the name.

They didn't have them this time - damn it to hell - but the bacon praline they sell here occasionally is the most obscene thing I've ever put into my mouth. Interpret that as you'd like. Seriously, it's like watching an X-rated movie with really questionable morality, eating this thing. You're really enjoying it but you feel awful at the same time. You have to try this, just to say you did.

cochon butcher: om nomnom sammiches om nom

Cochon Butcher
930 Tchoupitoulas
New Orleans LA
504-588-PORK

Cochon Butcher is Donald Link's sandwich shop. This is not in of itself particularly unusual: seems like many big-name and well known chefs are opening casual, lunchy renditions of their flagship eateries in cities across America, dishing up sandwiches, small plates, and snacks to a hip and culinarily adventerous crowd. Butcher has been a particularly successful member of the club - New Orleanians love their sandwiches, and they love sandwiches featuring a copious amount of pig products even more. Game, set, match. Besides sandwiches, Butcher provides a rotating selection of "bar food," with specialities changing with the season and what looks good at the market. The other half of butcher is the deli: customers can pick up house-made cured meats, dressed and ready to cook meat products, and choose from a bunch of ready-to-go take out items. Handy!



This is an arugula salad with a preserved lemon dressing and slices of lomo, dried Spanish-style pork loin. Donald Link prides himself on his European style cured meats, and this flavorful, salty lomo was a fine example of his work. Link has done some study in Italy and Spain on the techniques required to create this stuff, and it seems to be paying off.



I was born in Tampa, and my earliest food memory honest-to-God involves a Cuban sandwich. I remember the salami and the pickles, and the melty cheese, but mostly I remeber it being good. So of course we got the pressed cochon de lait Cuban sandwich, ($10) served with housemade potato chips. Verdict? A tasty, toasty rendition of the classic, featuring Link's always impeccable roast pork, ham, salami, and plenty of mustard and pickle. But there was one problem: there's a cilantro spread on the sandwich that wasn't listed on the menu board, providing my cilantro loathing mother with a nasty surprise. Be more precise, black-board menu writers! Think of those that walk among us with that horrible soapy-mouth cilantro mutation!



These are marinated brussel sprouts ($6.00) and they were excellent. I believe they are briefly fried and then set to marinate in vinegar, mint, sugar, chili, and a couple other herbs - they come out delightfully fatty, bitter, sweet, and herbacous all at once and are entirely addictive, superior to potato chips.




My friend Cassidy was feeling brave, and went with the Cochon banh mi ($10.00) with liver pate, hogs head cheese, and pickled vegetables on a French roll. This is a truly classic Vietnamese sandwich combination, and all those funky meat products within created an unctuous, fatty, and delightfully porky experience, in tandem with the vinegary vegetable slaw. For god's sake, don't hold the mayo. The stuff really brings this sammich together. Highly recommended, even if you are technically adverse to eating the head of a hog. Open your mind, your ass will follow, etc etc etc.

We bought a chunk of Butchers (in)famous bacon praline for dessert, and unwrapped it in the car. It was dumbfounding. Pretty much everyone present compared the experience to kinky sex, rather like making love to some unholy but delectable combination of pure essence of pig and sugary maple candy pecan horror. That's about the gist of it. Try it and find out. Try it.

We used Butcher for my graduation party and everyone was pleased with the results. Smoky turkey and andouille gumbo, meaty collards, some awesome cheese-and-crab dip and a lovely boucherie plate kept my crew of friends and associates fed and somewhat complacent. Thanks, y'all.

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.

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.

Basil Leaf: Jesus Christ It's a Whole Coconut

Basil Leaf
1438 S Carrollton Ave
New Orleans, LA 70118-2810
(504) 862-9001

Thai food is pretty much ubiquitous in the USA, New Orleans no-exception whatsoever. (Ask for a Korean restaurant, however..) Basil Leaf is one of a warren of "ethnic" restaurants on this particular bit of South Carrollton, with a Spanish, Lebanese, and Japanese place all within easy walkin' distance.

As Boucherie, our original intent, was completely booked up by yuppies in fetching vintage clothing, we punted to the Basil Leaf. It's really nice inside, with an upscale ambience, snappily dressed servers, and a not-too rowdy clientele. The menu is a rundown of your standard Thai entrees, with a couple interesting entrants - I might be able to get all cozy and funky with the crab meat eggplant napoleon sometime, just not this time. Prices are high, but this is New Orleans. If you're not eating po-boys from the corner shop, you're paying out the nose to eat out and you had best just shut your pie-hole and take it.



I began with a cup of spicy lemongrass soup with shrimp (Tom Yum) ($3.99), an okay rendition of a classic. The broth was all right, but there wasn't enough flavor, and not enough vegetables and "stuff" in it to hold my interest. And they put pineapple in there. Why in god's name would anyone put an innocent pineapple into an equally innocent cup of tom yum? I don't object to pineapple, man. Me and pineapple go way back, we cool with each other, I got a pineapple in my fridge right now- but I don't want to see pineapple all the time. We gotta be apart some days, somehow.

(Also, I make really good tom yum, just sayin').



We also tried some pan-fried potstickers. Sort of an odd concept - a big ol' potsticker with a teeny bit of filling and a whole lotta wrapper. The flavor was good, but more filling would be a good idea, folks.



My friend Pieter has a nice restaurant rule: order the weirdest sounding thing on the menu. At the Basil Leaf, that would be the young coconut seafood curry, billed as a coconut milk curry with chunks of real-live coconut up in the middle of it. We were deeply impressed by the presentation, that's for sure: that's a whole goddamn coconut on our plate, it's like a volcano of seafood, a mixed drink with curry in it, sweet mother of God! After admiring it for a bit, we dug in. The inside of our magical coconut proved to be a pretty good Thai seafood curry, with a nice array of seafood - including some healthily sized scallops and shrimp- and some incredibly thinly sliced and thus rather pleasant pieces of squid. Could have used more heat, but on the whole, a nice dish. Didn't detect any coconut chunks. Not that they taste like a heck of a lot. (Used to chew on coconut in India. Just felt like my arteries were beginning to harden, but it beat chewing gum).



We also tried kaffir lime chicken with vegetables and mushrooms, which was a pretty good curry - again, could have used an infusion of heat, and they cooked them broccoli's too long. I do like the flavor of kaffir lime in pretty much anything. Why is it such a pain in the butt to find? Do I need to start growing it in my house, igniting the suspicion of the neighbors?

On the whole, the Basil Leaf is a decent place to satisfy a Thai food jones in a cushy setting in the Tulane area. They do take-out via campus menus, satisfying the incredible caloric demands of my age-group. Which is a good thing. College students like yours truly depend on erzatz Thai and Japanese food to survive: we'd wither and die, like flowers in winter, without it. We'd be lost without our kaffir-lime martinis and pad-thai specials and California roll samplers. Don't even want to imagine it. What in god's name do students in Billings, Montana do? How do they survive sans spider rolls, seafood pad thai with fake krab, and "crab rangoon"?

....Never mind.