The Beet Goes On

The moment of reckoning finally arrived in sixth grade. The science fair. Every grammar student's (and parent's) worst nightmare. In the world which existed before wikipedia and google provided the solution to every problem, choosing a science fair project took hours of thumbing through encyclopedias and multiple trips to the public library to browse through periodicals for ideas to steal. And to raise the level of competition just a bit higher, the science fair was the only school project where it was both acceptable and expected for the parents to actively participate. Figuring out who had a doctor for a parent was simple - just look for the kid whose science project was entitled "A Thesis on the Causes of Chronic Pulmonary Problems in the Post-Industrial Era."

After 4 months of painstaking research, internal debate, and much procrastination, I finally decided on the subject of my science fair project approximately 36 hours before the deadline. "Natural Dyes" was the title. Basically, I made coloring agents out of different plants and wrote up a few blurbs about how the natural stuff was just as effective as synthetic paints. Remember what I said about parents assisting children with their projects? Yeah, well when I was in sixth grade, my Mom worked in sales for an upholstery cleaning company. A PhD was not required to understand that a coffee stain is, for all intensive purposes, a stain for life.

I never cared much for science class, and I did not win an award for my opus on the power of natural dyes. (I  believe that the first place ribbon went to 1 of the 15 geniuses who discovered that baking soda + vinegar = volcano eruption). However, one factoid I will always remember from my science project is this: Beets will stain your fingers for about 8 days if you are not careful. But it never really occurred to me that those blood red root veggies might actually be worth eating.

My first experience with beets as food occurred on a trip to Piccadilly, an episode which caused me to suffer with PTSD for the better part of a decade. In the last few years though, I have come to appreciate beets as a delectable delicacy, and lately there has been no shortage of opportunities to indulge. I would guesstimate that close to a third of the ambitious restaurants around town serve a dish which matches sweet roasted beets with a salty cheese. There is the roasted beet bruschetta with goat cheese at Sylvain, the burrata and beet salad at Herbsaint, and the beet and ricotta ravioli at Meauxbar. The popularity of the combination is a testament to it's success, and all of the above are delicious and worth ordering.

One of my favorite uses of beets was at La Petite Grocery, where Chef Justin Devillier used chilled roasted beets and thinly sliced pickled onion as a foundation for cold crabmeat salad spiked with horseradish. Just a phenomenal dish, whose flavors touched upon sweet, sour, spicy, and richness. Unfortunately, that dish is not a part of the current menu at La Petite, but I see that you can still get your beet fix with a salad also featuring arugula, toasted pecans, local citrus, and cane vinegar.

It probably comes as no surprise that my current favorite beet dish in the city comes from the kitchen of Alon Shaya at Domenica. The winter vegetable pizza: roasted yellow beets and carrots scattered with a little goat cheese upon that ethereal crust which just keeps getting better every time I try it. Simple and sublime.

So where are you getting your beet fix?

Meauxbar Bistro

From March to April, Meauxbar Bistro enjoyed popularity rivaled only by Justin Bieber. A recent request for a Thursday night reservation for two was met with a sigh of relief: "This is the easiest table request I have had in the past 3 weeks." The restaurant on Rampart Street - whose usual clientele consists of insiders and French Quarter denizens - has capitalized on weeknight performances at the Mahalia Jackson Theatre and curious customers like ourselves who are eager to discover what we're missing out on.

To separate the lively restaurant from the outside world is not only a door, but also a curtained off foyer. Once inside, the staff (either purposefully or not) does a good job of separating the customers as well. As evidenced by the fact that in two separate visits, the host sat us and our companions at perhaps the worst table in New Orleans. This table is bordered by a window, a clunking ice machine, and the busy walkway the waiters use to ferry out drinks and return empty plates to the kitchen. Standing directly over your date's shoulder is one of the owners who from his perch behind the bar surveys the scene while drinking red wine. You may feel as though you are being watched.

The interior of Meauxbar anchors a dark bar to red and white tiled floors illuminated by dim lights. The Buddha statue strewn barback lends a vibe reminiscent of both Restoration Hardware and a Buddhist brothel. From the bar a thick, satiny banner of red cloth separates the good side of the restaurant from the bad like a prayer flag atop Everest. Sit on the good side, and you dine under alternating frames of mirrors and paintings of nature with laughter and the clinking of glasses. On the bad side is the ice machine and the clink of glasses into a bus tray. As in the choice between heaven and hell, be proactive before someone else decides your fate.

The Asian influence seeps from the decor onto the plate. A flounder en papillote (on Rene's visit it was grouper) comes stuffed with spices and flavoring of the orient: lemongrass, coconut milk, ginger, curry, and shitakes. The pretty package perfumes the table, but the fish does not absorb the flavors and the sauce is anorexic. Likewise with the appetizer of mussels, which were steamed to plump and tender perfection, but let down by frozen french fries and a tepid red curry broth.

Another curious detail of Meauxbar concerns the prices. You will be pleased to learn that the entrees, like a child actor, rarely turn 30. You may be less pleased to know that this is only slightly more expensive than the appetizers with no noticeable uptick in quality. Witness a steak tartare ($18), its luscious texture studded with capers and bits of anchovy, topped with the golden yolk of a quail. Crispy, buttered croutons turned this luxury item into one of the world's best dips. Contrast this with a $21 Chicken Grand-Mere and its flabby skin, overcooked flesh, undercooked potatoes and a sauce which can best be described as dirty.

A Salad Lyonnaise also exhibited the common inconsistency in one dish. The egg poached to perfection leaked yellow from its hidebound white with the slightest pressure from the fork. The lardons had been cooked to a slightly crunchy, but tender nibble. The frisee was as bitter as a Vikings Fan in February. What was missing? Acid. Without a well-made vinaigrette, the salty bacon, bitter lettuce, and creamy egg never gel. Sadly, this salad was one component away from perfection.

But there is much to like. Coarse pâté is served in a slab so generous that extra crostini will be required. Roasted beets are mashed with ricotta to create a ravioli filling rich with milk fat but still firm in texture. The dozen pillows of pasta are bathed in a pool of pepper-flecked, sage brown butter which should (and does) double as a spread for crusty french bread. Slow cooked rabbit is pulled from the bone and folded into a cream sauce which is then tossed with tagliatelle. A winter dish served in May, true, but also a reminder to return come December.

The wine list is not built for accolades, but is very good at delivering well-priced, quaffable wines which pair well with Meauxbar's bistro cuisine. The median price for a bottle is $40. A refreshing and palette-cleansing basil ice cream is sometimes offered on the house to those who opt for a glass of port instead of dessert. The wait staff is kind and convivial, but not to the point where professionalism is lost.

Despite a location on the extreme outskirts of the Vieux Carre and the absence of valet parking, Meauxbar has established a loyal clientele of repeat customers. (The Folk Singer has been thrice since March.)

The Rankings

Food - Par/Birdie. Strong cooking technique is regrettably overshadowed by flavors which either lack vibrancy or fall one ingredient short of excellence. But when it all comes together - as in the steak tartare and beet-ricotta ravioli - you realize the kitchen's full potential.

Wine/Bar/Service - Par/Birdie. The predominance of French wines matches the bistro-focused cuisine and offers selections to fit any budget. The wait staff is friendly, informative, and omnipresent (but not to the point of smothering). The small bar is serviceable and well stocked. We have said enough already about our favorite table.

Overall - Par/Birdie. Meauxbar has a certain sexiness about it. The quiet location across from Armstrong Park, soft spoken service, and stylish decor creates a Creole-Soho hybrid atmosphere. Flavors from the Far East inject novelty into French classics, but sometimes a single misstep downgrades an otherwise well executed dish. Success is there, you just need be fortunate enough to choose it from the menu.