GW Fins

A question that comes my way quite often is: "Where in the Quarter can we find really good seafood?" More often than not, the inquisitor is in search of platters of fried or boiled shrimp and crawfish and piles of fried catfish and oysters. I always have trouble recommending such a restaurant in the Vieux Carre, usually pointing them to Deanie's after drawing a blank on anywhere else. But lately my standard response has been, "If you don't taking a step in price, you should try GW Fins."

Blue Crab Pot Stickers

"Seafood at its Seasonal Peak" is the mantra at Fins, and from a quick glance at the menu diners learn that the preparations of this bounty are as likely to have roots in the Gulf Coast as they are in the Far East. Appetizers of seafood gumbo and shrimp remoulade are likely to share table space with a cylinder of yellow fin tuna tartare wrapped with thinly sliced cucumber and topped with mango, the plate sauced with squiggles of spicy wasabi and a hint of sweetness from what tasted like cane syrup. Softly decadent lobster ravioli may be the calling card of Fins' preludes, but the blue crab pot stickers deserve equal praise, with the crisped edges of the dumpling giving way to the soft filling for a nicely contrasting texture. Both are bathed a in a rich butter sauce, a recurring theme throughout the entire menu.


Parmesan Crusted Flounder

In my experience, entrees have been underwhelming when compared to the appetizers, though that judgment is not unique to Fins and may be a matter of personal preference. Parmesan crusted flounder was dry underneath its nutty and buttery crust, but the fried capers added a welcome salty crunch. Same for the sheepshead, the larget filet of which was hiding a dome of mac and cheese underneath - rich, creamy, and delicious as long as you are a fan of truffle oil. On the other hand, a cobia (lemonfish) special was perfectly cooked and served atop cubes of watermelon and mango. Wood grilled scallops were meaty and tender and placed atop a creamy mushroom risotto.


Wood Grilled Scallops

The circular dining room feels dated with its concentric semi-circles of leather banquettes, but the arrangement of most seats focuses the view toward the large windows opening onto Bienville Street. Service is respectable, with a cordial staff always available to refill your wine glass and replenish your bread plate with freshly baked drop biscuits which have become a trademark of service. Prices can run high when ordering multiple courses, but the $35 three course Fins Feast is a steal of deal.

GW Fins - Par/Birdie
808 Bienville Street
(504) 565-5459
Dinner Nightly

Short Order Reviews

In today's Short Order Reviews we check out a Frenchmen Street spot that might as well be in Anywhere, USA, a French Quarter favorite that fell short of expectation, and a Mid-City mainstay stuck in mediocrity. An uplifting Thursday post to get you ready for the weekend.

Marigny Brasserie - It's bizarre to me that a restaurant on Frenchman Street - the most bohemian, eclectic, funky street in New Orleans - could have such an uninspired menu. The list of gumbo, jambalaya, fried seafood platters, and po-boys reads like a greatest hits of the New Orleans dining lexicon. Maybe one or two of the ten appetizer choices is not dropped into the deep fryer. Note to self - piling olive salad on top of a head of fried calamari does not hide its chewiness. Pasta dishes were bland, thin, and under seasoned. Burger was of typical quality for your neighborhood bar, which is to say disappointing. The lone worthwhile dish on the table was the macaroni and cheese, whose rubbery layer of melted cheddar gave way to a creamy, cheesy penne underneath. Your best choice on the menu it is; reason for returning it certainly is not. The front bar room is comfortable and unique enough, but the red upholstered booths and generic wood tables and chairs in the main dining room could fool any diner into thinking that he is in the restaurant of the Hampton Inn in Plano, TX or Hoover, AL. The cocktail list is interesting enough, and there was a 2 for 1 special on canned beers leftover from the Halloween festivities. Unfortunately, cheap beer could not save the day. Bogey.

Muriel's - With The Folk Singer's mom in town, we decided on brunch at Muriel's so that she could hear hear the jazz trio and so that I could figure out if there was more to Muriel's than just shrimp and goat cheese crepes. The building is one of the French Quarter’s best dining locations, with the inner atrium and long, comfortable bar hidden in the rear. Unfortunately, the food leaves much to be desired. Shrimp and goat cheese crepes were great as always, but it was slow roll downhill from there. Special soup of duck and jalapeno had a tan roux, plenty of shredded duck, but not enough spice. Alligator hash was dry and could have used an extra helping of hollandaise. Eggs Sardou sat in a pool of thin, buttery sauce with spinach as a lesser spin on the classic. Vegetable plate was a haphazard mélange of pickled cauliflower, roasted tomato, and deliciously fried oyster mushrooms. (Don’t ask me why TFS ordered that.) With such a nice atmosphere, I can't help but think that if the food improved then locals would easily supplant tourists as the primary clientele. Oh, and one another issue: Since when is pecan crusted puppy drum considered the staple of a “classic New Orleans brunch”? Bogey.

Fellini's - The restaurant was surprisingly empty for a Saturday night, but that’s probably because of the 2:30pm LSU kickoff against Auburn and the Jesuit vs. Brother Martin game around the corner at Tad Gormley. The cool fall weather beckons a table on the patio out front. Started with the hummus, which is a small portion but a sufficient starter with the soft, thick pita. I prefer the smoked tomato dip though. Lamb roll is prepared and then baked so that thin thin lavash cracks and crumbles with each bite. The lamb was tough and dry, and the tzaziki was buried toward opposite ends, which was unfortunate because the lamb could have used the moisture. Accompanying pasta salad was a healthy alternative to fries but nothing more than filler for the plate. Fellini's is honest about what it is - an affordable restaurant that offers a menu of healthier alternatives to pizza, po-boys, and burgers. Bogey/Par.

Felipe's Taqueria

Chips, salsa, tacos, burritos and margaritas. This simple recipe of success is a proven winner for creating a profitable restaurant in almost any city in America. Even though Italian food may be the #1 cuisine of choice worldwide, I would venture to say that Mexican cuisine, at least in the United States, appeals most to both consumer and restaurateur. The low food cost of beans, rice, and tortilla chips allows restaurants to pass along those low prices to diners (who are also rewarded with large portions), and the festive connotation encourages consumption of mas cervezas y margaritas, which pushes up the check average. Everybody wins.

Except for one thing - the food almost always disappoints. For some reason, restaurants believe (and consumers accept) that just because the food is cheap it's OK that it doesn't taste very good.

Thankfully, Felipe's does not subscribe to that school of thought.

Upon entering Felipe's the uninitiated would think that this is your typical run-of-the-mill burrito shop, until you notice a woman hand-sorting black beans behind the counter or a pair of prep cooks dicing onions and chopping cilantro. Don't let the cafeteria style service fool you, Felipe's serves better food than 95% of the full service Mexican restaurants in the city and at half the price. I might venture to say that there are very few places in the city where 2 people can eat this well for under $20. With the French Quarter location just a 15 minute walk or 5 minute drive from our apartment, The Folk Singer and I have come to appreciate the budget-conscious menu as often as 3 or 4 times per month.

The menu lists 8 different protein selections, all of which are stuffed in various tortilla delivery systems. Some of the protein choices deserve more attention than others. I find the fish and shrimp (both fried) to be suitable only for vegetarians and the carnitas inconsistently dry. Instead I go for the spicy ground chorizo, succulent al pastor marinated in pineapple, and chicken tinga stewed in spicy chipotle sauce.

My vessel of choice is the quesadilla (pictured above), griddled until the tortilla blisters and the Monterrey jack cheese melts, then filled with toppings of your choice, before folded on opposite sides into a thin, crispy rectangular package. This $5 (taxes included) lunch may not be a foot long, but it has miles of flavor. Tacos are double wrapped in corn tortillas warmed on the griddle. Sliced Monterrey jack is either melted on top of warm tortilla chips in the salamander for nachos or steamed inside of a pliable tortilla for burritos. Not exactly how they do it in Puebla or Mexico City, but who are we to judge.

Toppings range from a simple scattering of cilantro and onions to a colorful salsa bar at your disposal. Guacamole is made in house and is more of a smooth dip as opposed to a chunky avocado salad. Black beans and pinto beans are available in either whole or refried form. As a four year resident of Texas, I consider myself an authority on queso, and I can say that Felipe's comes closest to my favorite versions served in Austin.

In my personal experience, the French Quarter location serves better food than the one in Broadmoor, but I could be biased because of proximity to both home and office. Undoubtedly though, the French Quarter has a much better and more spacious bar area, which is sectioned off enough from the serving line that it has its own crowd of regulars who come for the cheap beers and well-mixed margaritas. You can't beat $2.50 draft Dos Equis on Thursday.

The post-Katrina explosion of Hispanic eateries had us all rejoicing both for an influx of more authentic Mexican, Latin, and Central American food and for the corresponding death knell of the faux cuisine which stood in its place before the storm. Last time I checked though, I was the only gringo standing in line at Ideal Market while Pancho's parking lot is full every night. While Felipe's does not pretend to be the definitive word in authentic Mexican cuisine, its food just goes to show that cheap can still be delicious.

Felipe's Taqueria - Birdie

French Quarter
301 N. Peters Street
(504) 267-4406
Open at 11am daily. Sun-Tues till 12am; Wed-Thur till 1am; Fri-Sat till 3am.

Uptown
6215 S. Miro Street
(504) 309-2776
Open at 11am daily. Sun-Wed till 10pm; Thu-Sat till 11pm.

The Muffin Man

Every Saturday morning, I have a standing meeting with Robert Banck, whom I nicknamed "The Muffin Man" before I ever learned what was written on his driver's license. The Muffin Man is like Red in Shawshank or the reincarnate of the Special Man from the old Frankie and Johnny's commercials. In short, he's the guy who's got the goods, from orange cranberry muffins (my favorite) to lemon squares, pecan squares, and granola.


Photo by renee b. photography.

 
The Muffin Man is actually only one part of an entire Muffin Family behind Windfield Farm Bakery. After a year of enjoying their muffins, scones, cookies, breads, and lemon squares, I finally gathered up the courage to speak to the Muffin Man and learn about the history and operations of Windfield Farm, which is the subject of my article in this month's food issue of OffBeat Magazine.

I was not surprised to learn that behind the Muffin Man was a Muffin Woman (isn't there always?), Robert's wife Suzie, who was the impetus of everything delicious coming from their farm in Franklinton. The story only gets better from there, in my opinion.

Here is a little anecdote about the Muffin Man that was too long to be included in the article but that I thought was worth sharing.

Last year on the Saturday before Halloween, The Muffin Man became a celebrity when his stand was used as a set for a Vera Bradley photoshoot, complete with obnoxious European photographer, stand-in 40ish blonde-haired muffin woman, flawless-looking 18 year old model, a dozen set attendees, and a ton of expensive set equipment.

It was almost noon by the time that I made it to the market that day, because The Folk Singer and I had run the Jazz Half Marathon that morning. We walked straight from the finish line on Tchoupitoulas to the market, hoping to find a sweet reward. Now, the photoshoot was taking place on one side of the booth, while it was business as usual for the Muffin Man on the other side. I was rather aloof and delirious at the time and tried to hand my money to the stand-in muffin woman to pay for my two brownies. (They were was out of muffins.)

Unbeknownst to me, I was now in the camera shot, and apparently someone did not think that I was Vera Bradley material. Some PA stepped in and said, "Excuse me, we're in the middle of a photo shoot over here, so if you could just scoot over to the side, I would appreciate it."

I turned to the Muffin Man and said, "I don't think she ran 13.1 miles just to get this brownie."

He laughed and said, "Don't feel too bad. They had to bring in her (pointing to stand-in muffin woman) because I wasn't pretty enough either."

He handed me the two brownies, which The Folk Singer and I devoured in about 3.5 seconds. And had my legs not been ready to crumble beneath me, I probably would have run another 13.1 miles for the chance at a third brownie.

Breakfast Goes Green

Eco Cafe prides itself as the greenest restaurant in the city, staying loyal to their ecological principles from the reclaimed products used in the renovation of the building to the cage-free eggs that are whipped into omelettes. "Hormone-free," "grass fed," and "organic" are all enticing characterizations in print, but the proof is on the plate.

The menu is reminiscent of the original Surrey's with it's extensive list of freshly squeezed juices and American breakfast classics mixed in with Latin flair. The juicer makes good use of ginger, herbs and other aromatics to create refreshing concoctions that are surely to perk up your morning without a caffeine jolt.

The food reads better than it actually tastes, but I would still recommend the restaurant for those looking for a wholesome way to start their Sunday morning. Geaux Grits (above) topped with fried eggs, crumbled bacon, and cheddar cheese, is one of those satisfying dishes which after finishing you think to yourself, "I could have made this at home, but I don't mind paying $8." Plantains make multiple appearances on the menu as grilled inch-thick rounds topped with sour cream. While I appreciate the kitchen's concern for my cholesterol, I much prefer a crunchy fried exterior to contrast with the soft flesh.

The house signature Chicken & Waffle Sandwich ($12) is a tower of fried chicken breast tenders between thick Belgian waffles. While the waffles were dry and lacked a desired crispness, the fried chicken was crisp on the outside, moist on the inside, and well seasoned. Solution: douse liberally with maple syrup. Huevos Rancheros ($9) is a nice choice but could use a little more punching up in terms of seasoning. The chili con carne omelet may be the best dish on the menu.

What the food may lack in terms of execution, the setting makes up for in terms of ambience. Large windows open up the wood floored dining room with plenty of natural light. Tall ceilings and well-spaced tables give both early and late morning risers plenty of room to stretch out and relax, which is the opposite case for most affordable restaurants who specialize in breakfast. And with the weather seeming to cool off with every turn of the daily calendar, the three tables outside have become highly coveted.

Eco Cafe (Breakfast/Brunch) - Par
3903 Canal St.
(504) 482-1225
Mon, Wed-Fri: 7:30am-2:30pm
Sat-Sun: 8:00am - 2:45pm
Closed Tuesday Starting 10/4/11

Short Order Reviews: Jefferson Parish Edition

In today's short order reviews, we head into Jefferson Parish to see what's cooking on the other side of the 17th Street Canal.

Caretta's - Everytime I walk into this place, I just feel like part of the herd being pushed toward the food trough. But to be honest, the food is not horrendous. Cheese enchiladas are entirely serviceable; I prefer the red sauce instead of the verde version. The accompanying grilled flank steak surprisingly resembled beef more so than shoe leather. White queso is thin in consistency and flavor. The rice is fair enough, but the beans too runny in consistency. Plain and simple, there are about 50 other Mexican places that I would opt for instead. But what The Folk Singer wants, she gets.

Caretta's Grill - Bogie
2320 Veterans Blvd.
(504) 837-6696
Lunch & Dinner Tue-Sat

Mr. Gyro's - Before the proliferation of Lebanese restaurants in the city, Mr. Gyros was one of the few choices for its namesake dish. The building has minimal creature comforts or ambience; the most exciting part of the service is the flaming kasseri cheese on the bar and the accompanying "Opa!" shouted by the server. Grape leaves - short, stubby, and dense with rice and ground beef - were the best dish we tried but even those were nothing special. Thin pucks of falafel were hard on the outside, dry and brittle on the inside. Grecian Pizza uses soft, thick pita as the base with tomato sauce, gyro meat, peppers, onions, and melted mozzarella. I have no idea why I ordered that. The taste is what you would expect, but that's not to say that the flavors came together well. Nothing that a few spoonfuls of tzaziki can't fix though.

Mr. Gyros - Bogie
3620 N. Causeway Blvd.
(504) 833-9228
Lunch & Dinner Mon-Sat

Harbor Seafood - I have heard and read about lots of high praise for this neighborhood café whose fame is built upon fresh seafood borrowed from the attached Fisherman's Cove market next door.  The small, narrow dining room is no frills. Seafood gumbo has a thick, tan base that has the consistency of a stew. It’s loaded with baby shrimp and a handful of oysters perfectly poached. Different, but good. Onion rings are tall and coated with a simple batter which cracks and sometimes falls off with each crunchy bite. The specials menu boasts all of the fresh fish of the day, all of which you can order fried, blackened, or grilled. Cobia was a thin, fresh filet that was disappointingly small. Plate included rice topped with shrimp étouffée (not very flavorful) and corn on the cob straight from a spicy seafood boil.

Everything tasted fresh, but I still left feeling that the food fell below my expectations. The Folk Singer says that my palate has become "too sophisticated" to appreciate neighborhood restaurants like this. But I love Sammy’s on Elysian Fields, so what gives?

Harbor Seafood - Par
3203 Williams Blvd.
(504) 443-6454
Lunch & Dinner 7 Days

NOLA

Considering the impact that Emeril Lagasse has had on the New Orleans dining scene, Blackened Out has directed an impressively low amount of attention to the food at his three restaurants in the city. And by "an impressively low amount" I mean "none."

Have we locals shunned one of our homegrown talents simply because it's become vogue to hate on TV stars who "aren't real chefs"? Nevermind that Emeril started at the bottom, built his empire from nothing, and was one of the forerunners of the Food Network before pinky rings ruled the world. (For more discussion on this topic, read this.) But I hardly ever hear anyone recommend - much less talk about - any of Emeril's restaurants. And I spend a lot of time talking with people about restaurants.

The rub on NOLA has always been that it's training ground for the next generation of Emeril employees. As the story goes, the multi-level, atriumesque restaurant on St. Louis Street is where new recipes are tested and where cooks and managers make their bones. But every dish and every general manager has to start somewhere, so why not here?

The focus of the downstairs dining room is the wood burning oven, from which comes the above pictured duck confit and fried egg pizza, whose soft, bready crust has the texture of naan. The same dough is used to bake pocket bread drizzled with garlic oil and showered with grated parm. The most well known starter at NOLA is Miss Hay's stuffed chicken wings, and rightfully so. A trio of chicken wings are deboned, stuffed with ground ground pork and green onions, and then deep fried. Legend has it that when Miss Hay makes her yearly pilgrimage back to Vietnam, the restaurant is without wings for 4 weeks.

An interesting addition to the regular menu this summer is the "On the Road" daily specials, which feature ingredients from local purveyors. Two weeks ago, the salad course was a tangle arugula scattered with a dice of roasted beets from Covey Rise Farms and nubs of goat cheese from Belle Ecorce in St. Martinville. In the appetizer round, soft, pillow-like gnocchi were matched with a sautee of crawfish tails and woodsy mushrooms that was unfortunately too greasy.

Entree choices include enough bells and whistles to excite (maybe one too many on each dish) but are not so far out of reach as to alienate picky eaters. Hickory-roasted duck pulled easily off the bone, but the caveman pork chop had been left on the grill for about 45 seconds too long. The accompanying brown sugar glazed sweet potatoes were the standout component of the latter dish; a shining beacon of hope in the face of mashed sweet potatoes which bring back haunting memories of the sugar buster days. A filet mignon (above) looks and sounds impressive with a pile of melting Maytag blue cheese and crown of fried shallots, but the quality of the beef itself was disappointing. I would have opted instead for the ribeye with patatas bravas and chimichurri, but what The Folk Singer wants The Folk Singer gets.

My favorite seat in the restaurant is at the food bar in front of the wood burning oven, where one can watch the loaves of pocket bread rise before your very eyes. This station also produces my favorite entree - the garlic crusted drum served atop a mixture of brabant potatoes and haricot verts in a pool of lemony sauce rouge. There is one problem with sitting at the food bar though: You are forced to watch the chef heap ungodly amounts of compound butter atop each filet of fish that goes in the oven. Now in my defense, I did not notice this cooking method until after I had placed my order. But once I did, it was like I could watch myself getting fatter in the reflection of the mountain of butter melting away with each flicker of the flame. But my God does that fish taste good.

In order to avoid a coronary, I passed up dessert on my last meal here. But I have had success with warm ooey gooey cake (which is chocolate), drunken monkey ice cream, and peanut butter cheesecake. On the other hand, a pecan pie with the shape and consistency of a cylindrical brownie was overcooked and dry around the edges.

Granted, the food at NOLA is neither avant garde nor as well executed as some of the other restaurants in the city at this price point. The waiters may not be brushed up on the wine list (which, by the way, is extensive and has a few hidden values if you look long enough), but each one has always been wearing a smile and keeps my bread plate full with jalapeno cornbread and onion focaccia. Like the waitstaff, the crowd tends to the younger side, which makes for a livelier dining room.

Call me crazy, I actually like the place.

NOLA Restaurant - Par/Birdie
534 St. Louis Street
522-6652
Dinner 7 Days; Lunch: Thur-Sun

Bayona

"Our restaurant gives you New Orleans. Our menu gives you the world."

Long before Chris DeBarr introduced far out foods like huitlacoche and uthappam at The Green Goddess, fans of Chef Susan Spicer had eaten around the world more times than Jules Verne.  At a time when stalwarts of creole cuisine are fearful of pho and barbacoa tacos surpassing gumbo and po-boys in terms of popularity, no one seems to acknowledge that Chef Spicer has been successfully integrating foreign cuisines into the local repetoire for over 20 years.

Bayona (pronounced "BYE-own-uh") reflects a lifetime devotion to great food from both near and far. Paris, Acadiana, Alsace, the Mid-East, and the Far East are all represented on the menu, which is divided into two sections: "Bayona Signatures" on the left and the nightly specials on the right. In an era where bistros have cut the number of appetizer and entree selections down to 7 or fewer, Bayona usually offers double digit choices in both categories.

But before you make it to your table, you first need to get in the door. Reservations at Bayona have been tough to come by in the past few months, even on Monday nights. Walk-ins are for the most part non-existent, and I counted no less than 10 parties who were turned away while we sat in the lounge for 5 minutes waiting for our table on a Thursday night.

It's tough to veer away from beginning a meal with the garlic soup or goat cheese crouton whose foundation is softened by a madeira cream sauce and earthy mushrooms which can make you swear off the slimy steakhouse versions forever. But I always tell myself, "I can order those any time I come here." So instead I opt for specials like lengua pupusas with a flaky exterior that had the texture and taste of grandma's pie crust made with lard (which is to say that it was delicious). The dish was completed with an earthy mole and wedges of tomatillo whose tartness cut the richness of the rest of the dish.

But even though I can order the sweetbreads any time I come to Bayona, I'll be damned if they don't make an appearance at some point on my table. For every time that La Boca persuades me that grilling sweetbreads is the best way to go, Bayona's classic version sways me back the other way with its lemon caper butter, slices of carrot, and diced beets. Rabbit is a mainstay on the nightly special menu. On my last visit it was a roulade stuffed with chorizo and paired with a deboned frog leg that was chicken fried perfection, with vinegary collard greens and thick-cut sweet potatoes with a sticky-sweet molasses glaze completing the dish. Steaks are always available as a special, but the standard cut of red meat is a crusty lamb loin served with a winy zinfandel sauce.

Usually by the time that dessert rolls around, I am struggling to overcome my satiation. But that hasn't stopped me from sampling a rich chocolate torte with caramel or black forest cake layered with vanilla and a spike of kirsch. I've tried both lemon and almond versions of the semifreddo, and while the texture of both were initially brittle, they melted away into creaminess just from the heat of the tongue.

During my last 3 visits, there has only been one disappointment in service and one on the menu. If I am spending $70 on a bottle of wine, I don't think it's asking much for it to be served at the proper temperature. Not one bottle of red wine that I ordered came out of temperature controlled storage. The lone culinary misstep was a "shaved" squash salad sliced much too thick and tasting overwhelmingly bitter flavor. Donald Link executes a much more successful version of this dish at Cochon, leaving you to wonder if the student has surpassed the teacher?

Not likely.

Bayona - Birdie, after missing a putt for Eagle by two feet
430 Dauphine Street
(504) 525-4455
Lunch: Wed-Sat
Dinner: Mon-Sat

Atchafalaya

Restaurants like Matt & Naddie's, Dante's Kitchen, and Dick & Jenny's have gained a strong reputation by filling a niche between the larger factions of gourmet bistros and neighborhood joints. The premise is simple - serve dishes just a few ticks lower in sophistication than the former but at prices a few steps above the latter. This winning formula has boded well for the aforementioned eateries, and the same can be said for Atchafalaya, whose menu execution falls squarely in between those two genres. Which is to say, right where it should be.

Atchafalaya has been quite the hot ticket lately, to the point where walk-ins are rarely accepted during dinner or the uberly popular weekend brunch service. (We actually walked out one recent Sunday after calling 10 minutes ahead and giving our name for an available table, then waiting for 30 minutes while others were seated before us.) Even if your table is reserved, be prepared to wait in the small bar area where a group of musicians (a pianist, maybe a trumpeter or a bassist) play slow soft tunes. A wooden, hollow jigsaw puzzle creates a faux wall which separates the bar from the main dining room, and I have yet to dine with a person who did not say, “I love that little fake wall thing.”

The list of small plates includes my favorite dish in the house: the veal cheek meat pies. A thin, crunchy exterior protects a succulently shredded, almost creamy, interior. I could eat a dozen of these and have no regrets about missing anything else on the menu. Fried green tomatoes ($12) are sauced with remoulade and topped with an avalanche of crabmeat. Nothing wrong with that. The standard cheese plate is porked up with the hogshead variety. Well played. Roasted beet carpaccio ($9) was a vegetarian delight on the first take, underwhelming on the second.

Pastas dishes consistently fell short of expectations. Free-form Crab Ravioli ($14) had thin sheets cooked far short of al dente and a beurre blanc that was a little weak/bland. Pasta Atchafalaya ($18) has perfectly cooked crawfish and shrimp tangled among fettucini, but the sauce was thin and watery.

For entrees the Boudin-stuffed Quail ($20) is difficult to pass up, with a crispy jock-strap of bacon surrounding a partially deboned quail filled with creamy boudin. The accompanying collards had an excellent vinegary flavor. Shrimp & Grits ($23) are served head-on in a spicy, buttery sauce. Stuffed Flounder ($23) was topped with a heavy shower of crispy breadcrumbs and a scatter of crawfish tails that acted as the “stuffing.” An interesting update to a dish which can be overwhelmed with heavily moistened bread crumbs, but the jury is still out on which version is preferred.  A daily special of pan seared snapper was slightly overcooked, but the crawfish dirty rice accompanying the latter was made with a short grain variety that created the right amount of stickiness that I just love.

For dessert, most tables gravitate toward the moist red velvet cake with a restrained application of cream cheese frosting (and for good reason). But don't overlook the peanut butter fudge brownie ice cream, whose flavor profile conjured images of a frozen jar of JIF which fell into a Duncan Hines mixing bowl. I loved every spoonful.

Owner Anthony Tocco (of the Circle Bar and Snake & Jake's fame) is running the show and is a friendly host. In fact, the staff on the whole is quite knowledgeable, from the bartender suggesting a newly received Italian selection as an alternative to our Godello, to the server pointing us to the freshest seafood available that night. The beverage program is very strong - the wine list has both depth and diversity in terms of price and grape varietals, and the self-service Bloody Mary bar makes waiting for a brunch table infinitely more tolerable.

Atchafalaya - Par/Birdie
901 Louisiava Avenue
(504) 891-9626
Dinner - 7 Nights
Lunch - Tues-Fri
Brunch - Sat & Sun

Geaux Plates

It's 11:30pm on a Friday. This supposed after-work drink (singular) has morphed into a much longer session than expected, and The Pope keeps talking about the Gold Mine. You haven't eaten since lunch, and your stomach is screaming for pork products stuffed inside a Vietnamese baguette. Where do you turn...

A few weeks ago the local food truck scene expanded by one with the premiere of Geaux Plates, the purple and gold truck making new waves with Uptown bar hoppers. Proprietors Henry Pulitzer and Andrew Gomila have transformed the former Taqueria Chilangos taco truck into a mobile purveyor of local favorites ranging from jambalaya to their own version of a banh mi.

The short menu consists of 6 items, all prices at $7 or under. My favorite is the Bayon Banh Mi (pictured above) which pairs lemongrass grilled chicken and boudin with all of the typical dressings of the classic Vietnamese sandwich. It's like lovin' on Dong Phuong bread, with bonus points to the kitchen for using chicken thighs, which are much more flavorful than breasts. The Cochon de Lait PoBoy has succulent shreds of root beer braised pork plus crunchy mirliton and red onion slaw and pickled chiles for heat. And though the Fancy Ass Grilled Cheese was probably created with the most inebriated of patrons in mind, even the stone-cold sober can appreciate the molten mixture of melted gruyere, red onion marmalade, and grilled portabellos between buttery sliced bread.

Fork-worthy dishes are jambalaya and the Breaux Bridge Breakfast (boudin cake topped with a fried egg), but for some reason using utensils to eat while standing outside a bar never really worked for me. Instead, I recommend requesting a fried egg ON TOP of the Bayou Banh Mi or Cochon de Lait, because nothing takes a sandwich to whole other level like the addition of the gratuitous fried egg and it's rich flowing yolk.

Geaux Plates usually operates Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, moving back and forth between Rendezvous and the Bridge Lounge. You can track them down via Twitter, or just follow my trail of banh mi crumbs.

Geaux Plates - Birdie

Sylvain

Photo courtesy of Jennifer Hur

If I were a tourist strolling through the Quarter near dusk, stumbling upon a place like Sylvain might seem like divine intervention. Faced with a rather non-descript facade, a stroll through the long and narrow entryway opens into a small, central courtyard that is a perfect setting to share a bottle of wine and appreciate the dichotomy of how you're in the middle of all of the action of the city and yet so far from it at the same time. When the weather is too hot (which seems fast approaching), the interior dining room with tightly packed, candle-lit tables can be equally charming, especially when facing the window so as to watch the street from air-conditioned comfort.

Some say the setting is too perfect - a faux historical replica or a day late and dollar short version of the East Coast hipster trend. Those people are probably smarter than me, a person too dumb to realize what is and is not authentic, but I like the setting all the same.

The food, on the other hand, while enjoyable for the most part, seems generic. Don't get me wrong, quite a few of these dishes fell right into my wheelhouse. Roasted beet bruschetta had sweet, firm chopped beets and a thin smear of goat cheese aboard crusty, crunchy bread; one $10 order consists of a pair, so budget accordingly when sharing. Braised beef cheeks ($20) are sizable hunks of beef that hold intact until the slightest pressure of a fork breaks the beef into lipsmacking hunks. Garlic sausage is coarsley ground, and the room temperature fingerling potato salad formed a nice base with hot and crunchy cabbage on top; my only desire being that the grain mustard reduction packed a larger punch.

All of the above are good eats, but doesn't the menu read like the greatest hits from the last 5 years? It's as if someone devised a menu formula of what worked everywhere else in the restaurant scene around the country and then relocated it all in a historic New Orleans setting. And for the most part, even though I enjoyed each dish, after finishing I usually found myself thinking: "That was good, but I like the [insert similar dish] at [insert other restaurant] better."

But perhaps I am too cynical. If good is good, does it matter that it's unoriginal?

There were a few dishes that I would avoid on my next visit. The shaved brussels sprouts and apple salad was too much crunch and not enough of anything else. The Chick-Syl-vain had a perfectly fried chicken breast with dill pickles - a better replication of Chick-Fil-A, but too monotone for my tastebuds. The resident burger expert in my office (who is a tough critic as he openly admits that MVB falls short of his expectations) said that Sylvain's version has beef ground too fine and lacking flavor. I would have to agree with him - about the latter not the former.

For all of the copycat critique, Sylvain (along with previous ventures like Green Goddess) has broken the mold by offering a French Quarter option that should have been available long ago. It involves a Thursday evening after a long day at work, the welcome seclusion of the courtyard, a couple of cans of Blonde Bombshell or a bottle of prosecco, an order of fries, and a plate of pickled vegetables (cukes, mirliton, and beets). That is one dining experience that Sylvain can claim all its own.

Sylvain - Par/Birdie
625 Chartres Street
(504) 265-8123
Mon-Thur 5:30-11:00
Fri-Sat 11:30-2:30; 5:30-12:00
Sun 10:30-2:30 (Brunch); 5:30-10:00

Tomasito's

In the last 5 years the Warehouse District restaurant scene has grown in leaps and bounds in terms of breadth and depth. Whether you're craving cochon de lait, raw oysters, barbecue, sushi, spaghetti alla carbonara, or shepherd's pie - it's all there within 3 block radius. And with the opening of Tomasito's, you can add a Tex-Mex enchilada to that list.

Owner Tommy Andrade has expanded his business across Tchoupitoulas from his eponymous restaurant and wine bar by opening a restaurant where mass quantities of chips, salsa, and margaritas are consumed by those who don't mind spending more than places like Superior Grill. The interior's dark woods and tile floor replicates an upscale hacienda, but the courtyard and covered patio out back have the most desirable tables, at least while the weather cooperates. Service outside can be painstakingly slow, even when the restaurant is empty, but as long as your margarita pitcher is filled, you probably won't mind.

Meals begin with complimentary chips and salsa. If dining with a group, chances are that you will order the Gringo Duo ($13), which includes a large bowl of respectable queso and guacamole loaded with so much lime that it almost tastes effervescent on the tongue. The margaritas are delicious but expensive, with the highest grades running over $40 per pitcher. The house version is $15, but as The Folk Singer said, "I am OK with paying more to avoid the guaranteed hangover."

The menu includes tacos, burritos, enchiladas, and fajitas in different iterations using steak, chicken, and shrimp. Fish tacos are fried nuggets in a tortilla slathered with so much chipotle crema that the heat overpowered everything else on the plate. Steak fajitas were grilled inconsistently so that some pieces were still cold in the middle and others overcooked crisp. Either way, the beef was not very flavorful. The accompanying tortillas were obviously pulled from a cellophane bag and the rice was low grade, but the beans were acceptable.

The enchiladas though are another story. I am a sucker for cheese enchiladas, and Tomasito's are well executed if not a little different. The tortillas are folded over instead of rolled and cooked dry without a sauce, the slightly crispy exterior leading me to believe that they were cooked in a skillet. I asked for the classic red sauce instead of the cheese sauce (cheese on top of cheese?), which was deeper in flavor than most - closer to a mole sauce. The verde enchiladas (pictured) are filled with shredded dark meat chicken and melted cheese and then topped with a vibrant sauce made from tomatillos.

The new standard bearer of Tex-Mex cuisine, Tomasito's is not. A nice place to sit outside and sip a margarita on Cinco de Mayo? Absolutely, just remember to order the enchiladas if you get hungry.

Tomasito's - Par
755 Tchoupitoulas
(504) 527-0942
Dinner Mon-Sat

The Roast Beef Po-Boy

If the po-boy is New Orleans' iconic sandwich, then the roast beef version probably best represents perfection on a loaf of Leidenheimer. But what defines a great roast beef po-boy? Last week I was overhwhelmed with an inexplicable craving for roast beef, to the point where I knocked out 3 po-boys in 5 days (with a Friday in Lent included in that time frame). From this recent stretch run as well as years of painstaking research, a few common denominators have emerged as representative of the city's truly great specimens of roast beef.

Gravy Quantity - This should be blatantly obvious, but dry roast beef is a cardinal sin. When the sandwich sticks to the roof of your mouth, that's not a good thing. On the other end of the spectrum, a roast beef po-boy should not be so gravy-laden that it falls apart before taking the first bite. I have a friend who measures the deliciousness of a roast beef po-boy by the number of napkins required for consumption. Perfection lies somewhere in the middle.

Gravy Quality - A roast beef po-boy is not some bastardized version of a french dip (though vice versa may be true). Au jus is reserved for lesser culinary conquests like prime rib. Nor should roast beef taste of canned beef gravy or broth thickened with Kitchen Bouqet. We're looking for a gravy built from a foundation of beef drippings cooked down and thickened to concentrate the flavor.

The Beef - In my opinion, there is no correct answer to this question. I like debris style roast beef such as Parkway.  I like sliced roast beef such as Sammy's. I like chopped roast beef like R&O's. And I like all hybrid versions in between. What's most important is that the roast beef tastes like roast beef. Augmentations such as garlic or pot roast vegetables in the style of Mahoney's, while not traditional, are acceptable.

Composition - If there is one small step which can tansform a good roast beef po-boy to a great roast beef po-boy, it is toasting the bread. Hot and crunchy french bread provides a solid foundation for piling on the beef and is an added level of protection from gravy breaching the sandwich like floodwaters pushing through the 17th Street Canal. But do not toast the bread with all of the fixings; we want crunchy and cool lettuce, tomato, and pickles.

And thus it was written.

Currently, my favorite roast beef po-boy is from Parasol's. No, I didn't mean Tracey's. The subject of much controversy at the end of last summer, Parasol's stock has actually risen in my book due to a strong to quite strong performance by a roast beef po-boy composed of debris-style beef, thick gravy, toasted bread and a lagniappe of garlic butter and heavy dash of parsley flakes across the top layer of bread (pictured above). It's like eating your favorite roast beef on garlic bread.

Tell us about your favorite roast beef po-boy in the comments.

Courtyard Grill

The hummus and chicken shawarma craze may be long past its crest, but many New Orleanians still go gaga over grape leaves and gyros. Even though I include myself in that crowd, on my jaunt through Europe a few years back I developed an even stronger affinity for the gyro's Turkish cousin: the kebab. No matter where I traveled, the omnipresent Doner kebab always seemed to be there.

While most of the kebab shops I frequented in Europe were of the street food genre, the kebabs from Courtyard Grill are touted as members of a higher pedigree, though still sold at bargain prices. Boasting of organic meats, house baked bread, and hand stacked rotisserrie towers, though the menu at Courtyard Grill reads similar to the vast array of Middle Eastern restaurants around town, the kitchen does things a little differently.

All meals at the Courtyard Grill begin with a complimentary basket of the house baked bread and a small tasting of agili, a condiment with which I had no prior experience. Though advertised as "spicy" on the menu and a veritable doppleganger for fiery harissa, the agili is actually a mild, almost fruity mixture of diced tomato, bell pepper, garlic, herbs, and olive oil. Matched with the house baked bread that is akin to a taller, more airy pizza crust, it's a simple but interesting introduction to a meal. If dining with a crowd, the appetizer platter is the way to start – your choice of 4 of the cold dishes to share for $15.95. What comes forth is ample portions of creamy/chunky babaganush, mild chachik yogurt sauce, large blocks of feta and walnuts, meat stuffed grape leaves, and whichever else you choose.

Sandwiches are either wrapped in thin lavash or in conventional form on the house baked bread. The Adana Wrap is a spicy blend of ground beef and lamb with loads of red pepper, almost like a merguez, served with marinated onions, purple cabbage slaw, chachik, and steamed rice for $9. The Doner (pictured) is served on the house baked bread with all of the above accompaniments, save the rice, for a whopping $8.

Platters are substantial and can easily split between two people who share an appetizer. The Doner Durum is an interesting twist on the classic. The thin, crispy slices of lamb and beef are rolled pinwheel-style in a thin tortilla like dough, cut, placed upright and ladled over with a mild tomato butter sauce. I expected more spice and assertiveness from the sauce, but the dish still worked well.

The "courtyard" aspect is a side deck with an overhang that is a nice setting for dining outdoors. Newcomers are usually confused where to go upon arrival, which is understandable. The door closest to the street leads directly into the kitchen and is used for takeout service and for the waitresses to expedite orders for those dining in. The door set further back leads to the hostess stand and interior dining room. The restaurant recently secured its liquor license, so now you can enjoy a cold beer or glass of wine with your kebab.

Courtyard Grill - Birdie
4430 Magazine Street
(504) 875-4164
Lunch and Dinner Wed-Sun; Closed Tuesday

Lunch at K-Paul's

Back in February 2009, K-Paul's began "deli-style" lunch service on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. The premise is simple: the same classic cajun cooking served by K-Paul's at dinner, but in a more casual setting with faster service and at lower prices. Sounds like a winner, right?

Well, not only is lunch service at K-Paul's a winner, it might be the best lunch secret in the Quarter. On a recent visit, I was surprised how few tables were occupied. Our group walked right up to the bar to place our order and were served our food in less than 15 minutes.

The lunch service at K-Paul's works like this:

1. Order at the bar, where you also pay and grab your drink.
2. Take a seat anywhere you like in the dining room.
3. Napkins, condiments, and plastic silverware are on a centrally located table.
4. Food runners will call your name and then walk the food over to your table.

Each week K-Paul's posts a different lunch menu, on which no dish crosses the $14 threshold. The list usually includes gumbo, a soup special, a few salads, three or four po-boys and the same number of plate lunches. Seafood is prominently featured in many dishes, from the fried shrimp and oyster po-boys to the shrimp corn maque choux and seafood stuffed mirliton. But there is usually one or two down home classics to choose from, such as jambalaya, butter beans, or chicken and waffles.

I particularly enjoyed the fried flounder (above) - an enormous, khaki-crusted fillet fried to perfection. The accompanying cornbread dressing was moist and flavorful, but I missed the alleged shrimp and crabmeat component. But that was no flaw that the rich, roux-thickened gouda and bacon sauce could not ameliorate. And (as if I needed it) each sandwich and plate lunch comes with your one choice of several sides, which includes thinly shaved onion strings fried in a light batter that tasted like funnel cake.

Needless to say, it's tough to go back to the grind after a lunch like this. But thankfully you will finish with enough time to take a slow stroll through the French Quarter... and maybe just one round at the Napoleon House.

Mr. John's

As many of you already know, the etymology of "carnival" roughly translates as "farewell to meat." This comes as no surprise to most locals, whose study in linguisitics is simplified by the customary knowledge that when Lent rolls around, we turn our taste buds toward boiled crawfish and fried shrimp instead of roast beef po-boys and muffulettas. Last year, in honor of the carnival season, we authored a series of blog entries which asked locals the question: "What would be your last bite of meat before Lent?"

This year, we fell victim to laziness, and therefore the "Farewell to Meat" series is on hiatus until 2012. But I could not let the Carnival season pass by without scribbling a few words about steak.

Several of my co-workers have been singing the praises of Mr. John's Steakhouse for quite a while, proclaiming that I must visit taste what they proclaimed to be the best steak in New Orleans. After my lone visit two weeks ago, I can't say that Mr. John's serves the #1 steak in the city, but it's Italian side of the menu deserved equal if not more recognition.

The restaurant is masculine, but in an old school Italian manner. The wall in the entryway is covered with framed and signed photographs, while the main dining room is dark and loud with sound echoing off the black and white tiled floor. The service is young, male, and professional. The wine list is surprisingly affordable for a steakhouse, with plenty of bottles under $60.

Meals begin with a basket of light, crisp, and buttery toasts of french bread. Do not forego the eggplant parmesan ($9), which is presented as a cube of thinly sliced paneed eggplant stacked intermittently with layers of mozzarella cheese and covered in a smooth marinara enriched with cream. When Lent rolls around, my default Friday dinner may be 10 orders of the dish. The house salad ($9) is a nice mix of greens, grape tomatoes, roasted red peppers, and shaved parmesan tossed with a red wine vinaigrette, with the only missing ingredient being a sprinkle of salt. The opposite was true though with the French onion soup, whose scalding hot base had been salted to an overkill.

The waiter touted the prime New York strip ($37) as the house specialty, and I took his advice even though I prefer the tenderness of a ribeye. The massive slab of beef arrived on a plate so sizzling hot that I could have used a bib to protect against the melting butter splattering off the plate. I can't deny the tastiness of the beef or the precise execution of the warm-pink, medium-rare center. But the strip is just not my cut of beef.

The Folk Singer out did me again with her Veal Alyssa ($26). whose duo of baby veal cutlets were pounded so thin that only the slight pressure from a fork was necessary to cut individual bites. The white wine, lemon, caper, and butter sauce draped over the veal was lipsmacking delicious, and the small tangle of fettucini was lightly tossed in a minimalist alfredo sauce that consisted of not much more than butter and parmesan with a slight touch of cream.

Midway through the meal, The Folk Singer passed me her plate for a taste, and I promptly polished off every last morsel of veal and drop of sauce. It was not until our way home that she said, "You know I just realized that I wasn't finished with my dinner when I handed you my plate. But you didn't seem too concerned with whether or not I wanted any more."

"Sorry," I said. "Do you want to go back tomorrow night? I'm craving that eggplant parmesan."

Mr. John's Steakhouse - Birdie/Eagle
2111 St. Charles Avenue
(504) 679-7697
Dinner Tues-Sat; Lunch Fridays

A Camellia in the Quarter

Remember when the new owners of Camellia Grill announced their plans to open satellite locations in Destin and Baton Rouge? I for one recall an overwhelming sense of fear that the expansion would result in the loss of the "Naturally N'Awlins" feel to one of our beloved local institutions. But those two particular locations the Baton Rouge iteration never came to fruition [and the Destin location has since closed]. Instead, a Camellia Grill blossomed in the French Quarter.

This past Sunday was my first visit to the new outpost of NOLA's favorite diner, and I must say that had the windows been blocked from the view onto Chartres, you could have fooled me into thinking that we were under the oaks next to the streetcar line. The waiters banter back and forth with both the cooks and customers, though Sleepy was nowhere to be found. Even the path to the restroom is a winding one, though instead of passing through the back kitchen on Carrollton Avenue, you wander through a centuries old courtyard.

Many of us have our standard orders at Camellia Grill, whether that be a cheeseburger, omelet, or waffle. (Or depending on how much you imbibed the night before - cheeseburger, omelet, AND waffle.) Likewise for me, I've had trouble deviating from the same order since the days when I used to slip $20 to the bouncer at The Boot for a wristband.

The Manhattan Omelet - corned beef, onions, swiss cheese, and french fries. It may not look like the work of Julia Child, but trust me: This is the breakfast which has laid many a hangover to rest. And this particular omelet served last weekend was one of the best that I've eaten from Camellia Grill in quite some time. Underneath that tan exterior was a light/fluffy/creamy matrix of melted cheese, salty nibbles of corned beef, and crispy fries. It was like Sunday morning after 50 Cent Night all over again.

Camellia Grill (French Quarter) - Par/Birdie
540 Chartres Street
522-1800
Sun-Thurs 7am-1am; Fri & Sat till 3am.
those two particular satellite locations
those two particular satellite locations

Irene's: Worth the Wait?

When is a reservation not really a reservation? When it's made at Irene's.

Notorious for its long wait and beloved for its charming interior, Irene's is perhaps the most popular secret in the French Quarter. While reservations can be had, most diners endure an extended pre-dinner cocktail hour in the makeshift piano bar before being ushered to a table in one of the dimly lit, cramped dining rooms for a dinner of Creole-Italian favorites.

And while many complain about the wait, we all must admit that dinner at Irene's would not be the same without it.

In my opinion, Irene's is one of many New Orleans restaurants where the experience outshines the food. You enter on St. Philip Street and walk through the end of the two dining rooms to the maitre'd station and waiting room, whose walls are lined with framed media accolades. Find yourself a candlelit table, order a martini, and settle in while you listen to the piano and for your name to be called.

When you eventually make into the dining room, the server will likely present you with an order of bruschetta "compliments of Irene." If this course were not gratis, I would point out that the bread was soggy from sitting out underneath a fresh slice of oven-warmed tomato. Plus, why be the buzzkill at a table where everyone was enjoying themselves enough not to notice the food?

The bruschetta is an example of the quality of the food as a whole - everyone's favorite dishes executed in an average manner. The menu is a hybrid of Creole fare and Italian standbys, with affordable prices in the high teens. Softshell crab and oysters are crowd favorites, the latter of which are baked till a brown crust of Romano cheese protects a dice of bacon flavoring the plump bivalve underneath. These Oysters Irene are an absolute bargain at $8.95 for a half dozen and the best choice on the menu.

Entrees run the gamut from fish amandine to roasted duck to mussels with linguine in a thin sauce. The canneloni is stuffed with veal, spinach, ricotta, and terribly undercooked eggplant which brought the whole dish down. The house tomato sauce is smooth and just barely sweetened. There is also a deliciously tender ribeye (bistecca fiorentina) served with not more than a spoonful of potato gratin.

Even if you choose to forego dessert, you may be brought one anyway. And thank your lucky stars if it's the tiramisu, which is light in texture but dynamite in flavor.

There are restaurants which, despite serving middle-of-the-road food, remain popular simply because they execute the intangibles well enough to create an enjoyable dining experience. While the food may not represent the pinnacle of Creole-Italian cuisine, Irene's almost always succeeds in sending its patrons out the door in a better mood than they were when they entered.

The difficult part is convincing diners to wait long enough to get to that point.

Irene's - Par
539 St. Philip
529-8811
Dinner Mon-Sat

Rattle Rattle, Here Come the Cattle*

We've said it before, but upscale food in a downscale setting has taken over the world like an unstoppable rebel force. Whether it's Le Fooding in France or food trucks in Los Angeles, both chefs and diners are focusing less on white table cloths and more on what's on the plate.

Cowbell is probably my favorite example of this genre in the city. The decor in the renovated gas station is funky and eclectic, but without trying too hard. There are no table cloths, staff uniforms, or Riedel stemware. In effect, the restaurant has created a "scene" without trying to create a "scene". It's truly organic.

The food is pretty kick ass, too. A short menu filled with American comfort dishes like clam chowder, grilled cheese, and apple pie, plus a little Latin flair. None of the dishes are overly complicated, and most are substantial servings for the low prices.

Macaroni and cheese. In a futile attempt at distinquishment, chefs are adding everything from lobster, pancetta, edamame, and heroin to improve a dish that needs no pizzazz if done well. Cowbell's version of mac and cheese ($5) is a lesson in "less is more." Creamy but not soupy, rich like a fondue, with a bit of crunch from a breadcrumb gratin. It is excellent. One my first visit the pasta was macaroni; on the second trofie, which in my opinion worked even better.

Though when the kitchen does improvise on a classic, the result is usually successful. Take the grilled cheese sandwich filled with shreds of BBQ duck tinged with just a hint of espresso. Paired with a mug of chowder or soup of the day (potato and celery on this occasion), this works as either a starter to share or a light lunch.

Though the name implies beef, Cowbell offers a number of seafood options. Fish tacos ($14.95) are a standard menu item, with the kitchen whatever fresh fish is available. Though the grilled fillets were underseasoned on one visit, the accompanying cilantro lime crema, chayote slaw of peppers, and avocado salsa brought all the flavor necessary. The shrimp quesadilla appetizer was smallish in size for $8.95, so I would stick with a different starter.

Black beans and rice are just an example of the Latin undertones on the menu, but they are not to be dismissed as a simple side dish. Black beans are creamy but firm, and the arroz verde is a short grain rice with lots of flavor. Where's the beef? How about a skirt steak, cooked a perfect (and I do mean perfect) medium rare, with a tomato and mango salsa. Plus, a repeat performance of those black beans with inch thick rounds of fried plantain. This might be the best $17 steak dinner in the city. I have yet to try the burger, but Willy Wonka did on my first visit and we both agreed that the pattty was undercooked.

There are two options for dessert. The first is an individual apple pie baked in puff pastry, which was light and crispy on the first visit but soft and depressed on the second. The Chocolate City is a flourless cake made with a bourbon brown butter ganache that packs a punch. Both are a steal at $5.00.

The kicthen closes early - 8:00 on  weekdays and 9:00 on weekends. The dining room includes three 6-top tables, so don't be surprised if you are asked to share with another party. BYOB for now, though that could change in the next coming days.

Cowbell - Birdie

8801 Oak Street

298-8689

Lunch and Dinner Tues-Sat

* Phi Muuuuuuu

Tracey's: Same Old Taste in a Bright New Setting

In New Orleans, we tend to champion longevity and frown upon change. However, there are times when circumstances beyond our control leave us no choice but to adjust and to adapt. Time has taught us that change can be a good thing as long as we don't leave behind those values which are most important to us. Though we may have gone kicking and screaming, the end result sometimes leave us better off than we were before.

Case in point, Tracey's. Remember back in August when everyone was lamenting the plight of Jeff Carreras after his beloved Parasol's was sold from underneath him? Instead of wallowing in self pity, Jeff recognized that what made Parasol's was the food and the staff, so scooped up both, found a better location just a few blocks away, and opened up an improved version of his former po-boy shop. Let that be a lesson to us all in accepting and triumphing over adversity.

In terms of ambience, Parasol's and Tracey's could not be more different. Where Parasol's was simply a dark, old neighborhood bar, Tracey's is roomy and bright with plenty of natural light. The loft ceilings and double doors that open out onto Magazine Street make this a great place to enjoy nice weather like today's, and the numerous flat screens along the walls elevate the bar to one of the city's best places to catch a game.

While the surroundings may have changed, the food tastes exactly the same as it did at Parasol's. The signature roast beef is the same shreds and chunks of beef in a thick gravy. I have always been a Parkway loyalist when it comes to roast beef, but I still enjoy digging into one of these from time to time. Fried shrimp are average in size, but the crustaceans sometimes shed their outer coating. Po-boys are still served as a one-size-fits-all. A bag of Zapp's is still your best choice of side dish, and you better order two bags because the wait can sometimes stretch longer than you think.

One Saturday afternoon while we were lunching at a table outside on the sidewalk, a man walked by and huffed in disgust at the 20 person line forming inside. "Where did all of these people come from?" was his rhetorical question to us. After a few moments of contemplation, he smilingly resolved to wait his turn, took his place in line, and said, "Well, I guess it's better than waiting in line at Parasol's."

Tracey's - Par/Birdie

2604 Magazine Street

7 days per week