My Favorite Restaurant

How many times have you been asked, "What is your favorite restaurant in New Orleans?" For me, it is a query I receive at least once a week. I am hesitant to ever declare any restaurant my favorite. Too many healthy differences exist between cuisines, styles of cooking, and restaurants to have a favorite. But if I did pick a favorite a restaurant it would look at lot like this.

My favorite restaurant would be Uptown, preferably on a busy corner. The building would have an interesting history, maybe it would be the site of a few failed restaurants. There would be a long bar anchoring half of the room and pressed tin ceilings. The bar would have the requisite knowledge to make fantastic classic cocktails, as well as the innovative spirit to stay on top of trends. A barrel aged martini would be a good example of the expertise of the bar, turning the robust floral notes of genever into cinnamon and spice and everything nice.

Something to snack on from the kitchen might come out while enjoying a cocktail. On a recent visit it would be cracklins as light and airy as children's whispers, the size of half footballs, and painted with honey and hot sauce. Bar food, gentrified and made delicious. 

The kitchen would showcase originality without quirkiness. Perhaps on one visit, the upstairs would be turned into a lascivious den of fried chicken. The crust of the chicken would crack under pressure sending chicken skin shrapnel tumbling down your chin. The meat would be brined and seasoned through. Tart pickled shrimp, mashed potatoes, cole slaw, and collards would provide all the comforts of home executed much better. Stealing the show that summer evening would be a simple salad of watermelon tossed with scallions and sea beans. No award exists by a major sparkling water company for this type of cooking, but there should be.

My favorite restaurant would also know how to do more than just craft house made charcuterie. They would take blood sausage and pair it with caramelized onion broth and a confetti of apple and cheddar turning each bite into a fall symphony. At times the kitchen would seem to be daring you try a dish, so there would be a lamb heart appetizer. Take the challenge and you are rewarded with thin, tender grilled segments of lamb on steroids adorned with crispy, bright pickled vegetables.

Still the kitchen keeps pushing you, so there may be a pasta course which makes no sense on paper. Brussel sprouts, fried chicken, cavatelli, and butternut squash sounds like a post-Thanksgiving midnight fridge raid, it tastes even better. Scallops ride on the wings of the god smoked pork, the pork coaxing out the sweet, meatiness of an oceangoing vessel. Pork loin is sliced and served as it should be with a rosy interior and cracker crisp crust. Set atop grits punctuated with fresh kernels of corn this is about as good as eating gets.

My favorite restaurant would realize dessert is just as important. So there would be apple fritters that put beignets to shame. There would be a chocolate tart as dark as midnight. Blueberries and Vacherin become a ballet orchestrated by a small scoop of lemon sorbet. All of this would be overseen by a smart, young staff which knows the menu, but also understand how to let a night out develop on its own.

I don't have a favorite restaurant, but if I did it would look an awfully lot like Coquette.

Coquette- Eagle

2800 Magazine St.

265-0421

Ancora

Photo by renee b. photography.

For our "Dining Out" column in the October issue of OffBeat Magazine, we take a closer at Ancora,  Adolfo Garcia's newest restaurant which pays homage to Neopolitan pies. The team behind Ancora includes Jeff Talbot, the overlord of the oven whom you may remember from a previous interview, and Kris Doll, the sultan of salumi who flies under the radar but deserves much praise.

It's tough to decide which we like more about Ancora - the smoky, wood-fired pies which Jeff pulls from the oven or Kris's cured meats which are rustically presented on the cutting board. The simple solution is to combine the two, which Ancora's "Pizza of the Day" often does. One unforgettable version was composed of a creamy marscarpone base, light tomato sauce, leafy arugula, and speck that would make nolawineguy abandon veganism.

But all of this artisan craftsmanship comes at a price that can creep up on those who tend to go overboard with their orders and enjoy a nice bottle of wine with their meals (which we often do), so make sure to bring either your wallet or your self control.

Ancora - Birdie
4508 Freret Street
(504) 324-1636
Mon-Sat 5:30pm - 10pm

Short Order Reviews

Midway Pizza: The yin to Ancorra's yang (or vice versa, Atlanta rappers not being a strong suit of this writer). Midway is a loud, brashy spot serving out an homage to Chicago's deep dish take on pizza. Where the focus at Ancorra is less is more, at Midway more is not enough. And the philosophy at both works. We started with a House Salad, which was thankfully dressed perfectly with a barely there Champagne vinaigrette. The polenta croutons need to be reworked, ours arrived leaden and tasting of grease. A decent opening salvo, now onto the 'Za. The #18 stole the show with pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, onion and green pepper. I expected the meatballs on the King Leon to be overcooked and dry, but what came forth were juicy, plump, and delicious. The crust at Midway is a khaki colored, two inch deep crispy bowl for the toppings it delivers. This may not be pizza you are used to, but it is worth finding out for sure. A very solid beer list anchors what may be one of the city's best spots to grab a beer and some pies. Birdie.

Fat Hen Grocery: The corner of Cherokee and St. Charles has gone through roughly seventy-four ownership changes in the last few years. But there is hope that the most recent opening of the Fat Hen brand by Chef Shane Pritchett  is here to stay. First, the interior tugs on a carnivore's heartstrings with a wall portraying every cut from a chicken, pig, and beef. Plus, over the bar there rests a Warhol painted pig. Moving our eyes from the walls to the plate, we gazed upon a Seersucker platter strewn with smoked sausage, creamy pimento cheese, thick slices of raw onion, celery, carrots and pickles. Bringing all this together are gaufrettes of potato as thin as newspaper. The barbecue sauce, available for purchase this being a grocery, is spicy and sharp. The tree hugger omelet would have been improved with a crustier English muffin and larger chunks of crabmeat. The pulled pork was smoky and well-seasoned but a toss in the barbecue sauce rather than it just drizzling on bun would have put this sandwich up there with the Muffaletta and the Po Boy. Par/Birdie.

Baru: A nice fall night sitting outside with a bottle of Torrontes and 2005 Rioja set up an incredible dinner. Plus, how can you match the ambiance of sitting next to a couple who decided 8 pm on a Saturday night was a good time to take a one year old and a two year old out to dinner? But the food more than made up for that glitch. First came, those incredibly light and crisp empanadas, plumped with ground beef and graced by chimichurri. Then the savory mazorca, a corn casserole of sorts that may have just gained a spot at the Thanksgiving table. Next, the ceviche, the black drum firm and the avocado adding richness against the acidic leche de tigre. The fried oysters did not disappoint either with a crisp crust and creamy interior crowned by a tuft of caramelized onions. The arepas were a misfire with dry pork and chalky corn cakes. But the mixed grill with chorizo, shrimp, and skirt steak sitting atop a loose but vibrant chimichurri made the arepa misstep nothing but a distant memory. Baru is the best BYOB in the city, and a dinner for two at $86 with tax and tip makes it a culinary jewel.  Birdie/Eagle.

Short Order Reviews

Back again, with some quick reviews of places we have been eating. As you can tell Rene has been in something of a slump, so if you can suggest a place to cure his grumpiness, please do.

Peter - When I wrote about sushi for our "Fish Friday" series during Lent, a number of commenters recommended Mikimoto as worthy of inclusion in the list of New Orleans' top sushi bars. I finally had my first meal there a few weeks back, and here are my first impressions.

In a restaurant with no more than a dozen tables, we counted no less than 7 servers and 5 chefs shuffling in and out of the open kitchen. As such, service is attentive and the kitchen moves quickly. Spicy tuna salad (recommended by an anonymous commenter) was simple and delicious: thinly sliced cucumbers mixed with avocado and chunks of fresh tuna, dressed with ponzu and plenty of sriracha. Dynamite Roll had a layer of wasabi potent enough to singe the nostrils with every bite. Jalapeno Madness Roll (pictured) was almost too hot to eat - an entire jalapeno stuffed with tempura fried salmon and cream cheese, topped with crabstick and drizzled with spicy mayo and eel sauce. In short, this place can bring the heat and everything tasted fresh, but further investigation is necessary before I can crown Mikimoto as one of the best in the city. Mikimoto - Par/Birdie.

Rene - The restaurant that is Jackson was formerly a restaurant named Jackson that served slightly ambitious food at ridiculous prices. We went once and enjoyed it. The new Jackson is a restaurant that is serving slightly ambitious food at ridiculous prices. We went last weekend and did not enjoy it.

Lindsay ordered a tuna steak salad. The waitress cautioned her "That it might be served pretty rare." For $18, what arrived was a piece of tuna the size of a deck of cards. One side had been cooked to medium while the other side barely kissed the flame. In the middle was a strip of pink the width of a single playing card. The seasoning on the tuna was heavy on the cumin and spice and completely overwhelmed what may have at one point been a nice piece of fish. The greens were wilted and slimy; the promise of jicama slaw arrived as a tiny ornament on top of the fish.

I ordered the bernaise burger. Couple problems here as well. First the patty, while cooked to medium as per request, had a gritty texture from the charring. It was as if the burger had been cooked in a bed of coals rather than on top. The bun, a brioche job, disintegrated almost immediately. The bernaise while housemade (could hear it being whisked in kitchen) got lost under a blanket of sweet, caramelized onions. There were fries that came with it, most of them stayed on the plate. I rarely leave fries on the plate.

The melted cheese appetizer with andouille, green onions, and chiles was a hearty, spicy companion to conversation. While good, it was just Cajun spiced queso and maybe not worth a $7 price tag. To be fair, the waitress did mention it was the first day of a new menu, so perhaps after practice things will even out. All told this was a lunch that cost in excess of $50 (with one Guinness served in a can). At that price point, they can do better than that. And you can, too. Jackson - Bogey.

Peter - It's one of life's few guarantees: If The Folk Singer and I are making an airport run, at some point we are stopping at Taqueria Sanchez on Williams. All meals start with a complimentary bowl of chips and mild red salsa, but you are advised to supplement these precursors with a bowl of freshly made guacamole. Tacos, which are served with a small bowl of smooth, fiery green salsa, vary on their deliciousness depending on their fillings. Desebrada is dry, shredded beef, but the barbacoa is meltingly juicy and flavorful. Lengua is cooked in a tomato sauce instead of on the griddle, which results in a much more tender tongue.

Prices have increased across the board this unpretentious taco shack, and the overall value has slipped lately. On several visits the kitchen has been completely out of our favorites (desebrada on one visit, pork and cheese pupusas on the next). The bread to meat ratio in the tortas are now sadly tilted toward the former. Still, I can't imagine a taking a trip to MSY without a stop here. Taqueria Sanchez - Par.

Rene - Hogs for the Cause will be here before you know it. To that end, Becker and I went out to City Park last Friday to diagram the site with some music industry people. On the way there we stopped at Cafe Navarre, in the former location of Weaver's. We went halfsies on a roast beef po-boy and a Cuban. While the roast beef was good, the Cuban I really enjoyed. In place of sliced roast pork, which has a tendency to be dry, Cafe Navarre used a shredded, moist pork (likely butt). Mustard, pickles, ham, and Swiss rounded out the sandwich. If this place was in my neighborhood, there would be issues. Cafe Navarre - Birdie.

Jacque-Imo's

Time flies when you are having fun. When you are waiting to be seated at Jacque-Imo's, time crawls at speeds which would make a sloth impatient. Jacque-Imo's serves, as the sign says jokingly, "Warm beer, lousy food, poor service."

That about sums it up, but the service is adept considering how busy the place is.

Having a no reservations policy means you will attract people who come for the scene of it all. (See also, Galatoire's). This is not bad so long as you have a bar which can dispense booze at a rapid fire pace. Jacque-Imo's does, and the bartenders make it a point to get you a drink in a hurry. But as a testament to their success, you constantly see bar backs loading in new Abita Ambers and Bud Lights into the low boys. Expect luke cold beers. Better to stick with the mojitos, especially the watermelon versions. They do help to soften the mood and temper the wait.

You walk into this frenzied scene and give your name to a hostess. Regardless of the time, day, weather, color of your shirt, or occupancy of the restaurant, she will tell you "Shouldn't be more than one hour." She is lying. You know it, and she does also.

So you wait. Stay inside the bar and you become a pin ball constantly shuffling between customers, waiters, and the owner, Jack Leonardi, as he shuffles outside to take a shot with some Tulane undergrads. Waiting outside allows you to acquaint yourself with the resident Tarot card reader. For $20 he will read your fortune.

Or you can wait next door at the Maple Leaf. Eventually, management will ask for a cover and you will likely be back out on the street. You go to the hostess to make sure your name hasn't come up. "Its only been 27 minutes," she says before hollering, "Gibson, party of five!"

An hour and half later, you are seated, strike that, wedged into a four top table in the front of a bar. Since you spent the last hour outside the window cradling that table, you know this table has been empty nearly all night. Or maybe the hostess brings you to a table in the back room, or the side building, or you eat on the tailgate of a truck. Mapping the premises would require the imaginative hand of MC Escher.

The first food impression at Jacque-Imos is very good. A garlic and parsley topped cornbread muffin arrives nearly as soon as you sit down, piping hot and with a garlic butter drizzled on top. You inhale it, and hell, you deserve it after waiting two hours to eat. The cornbread has soul and punch - things are looking up.

This may be part of the strategy of Jacque-Imo's and how Leonardi has developed legions of fans worldwide, including Monsieur Bourdain. By the time you are seated, you have been held hostage for hours. You become Patty Hearst, inflicted by Stockholm Syndrome, you will love any piece of food they give you. Any attention from staff will be met with applause from you and your dining companions. A cold beer would cause you to rob a bank.

Jacque-Imo's menu takes bits and pieces from the New Orleans cannon to create a hybrid mix of New Orleans favorites, soul food, and late-night concoctions. Shrimp remoulade on fried green tomatoes, barbecue shrimp on white rice, fried chicken, carpetbagger steak, stuffed pork chops, a deep fried roast beef po boy. Order whatever you like, it will all taste vaguely similar.

A few months ago, the potatoes on a chicken pontalba dish were on the just barely cooked side of raw. Which works for fish, but not starches. As for the chicken, just putting Chef Paul Prudhomme's Magic Seasoning on a breast does little to justify the price tag. You could have made this at home, much better.

The portions coming from the kitchen are substantial. Often the entree of choice arrives covered with a dark, rich gravy fortified by enough sodium to give the Dead Sea a run for its title. Each entree comes with your choice of two sides which run all the familiar stretches of beans, greens, and starches. Potato salad and corn are the way to go. The red beans and rice are best avoided. Not so much for the beans, which are creamy and spicy, but for the rice which is gray and undercooked. Eating it is much like biting down on a Navy Cruiser, good practice should you ever be transformed into a ship eating sea monster.

In between the cornbread and the entrees, a spinach salad arrives topped with a fried oyster. Emphasis on the word "a". Or not, as mine on one visit was a clump of batter fried to golden brown. Not that it tasted bad, but the oyster had slipped out at some point. The fried roast beef po-boy has yet to pass these lips. Not sure if that is a good or bad thing.

All the dishes have one or two things that are done very well, and one or two that fall flat. For instance, a recent visit presented a pork chop cooked perfectly. The meat, juicy and well seasoned had just turned from pink to white allowing the inside to stay tender. Inside a slit, the cooks had stuffed an intense mixture of ground shrimp and beef, the texture of which hovered somewhere between gruel and oatmeal. Surrounding and topping the hunk of pork was a mahogany colored gravy which created the impression that the dish wanted to be a soup. Not certain, but Kitchen Bouquet may have been prominently involved.

Fried chicken, a leftover from Chef Austin Leslie's tenure, is still very good. Its crust is pale gold and shatters like fine china on a marble floor. The chicken is hot and well-seasoned and each bite sends juice running down your arm and alerting the pleasure sensors in your brain. If you love fried chicken, you would do better going to Jacque-Imo's sibling, Crabby Jacks and ordering it there.

The wait staff does hustle. Drinks are fetched quickly, dishes come in a rapid fire sequence, and the bill is dropped when you ask for it. Working in such a busy, crowded environment must create all sorts of problems. Judging from the professionalism of the wait staff, you would never know it.

Many people will tell you that you go to Jacque-Imo's for the ambiance or atmosphere. While I love a good scene, the vibe reminds me of being trapped in a nightclub scene in "Treme". It is dimly light, you can barely hear what anyone is saying, a sense of nervousness fills the air, and there is a shady, Scandinavian musician at the bar. On one recent night it was Anders Osborne.

The best thing about this blog has been exploring the restaurants in New Orleans. By doing so, you learn which places you really like. Sorry to say, Jacque-Imo's is not one of those places for me. But that shouldn't stop you from enjoying it. Based on the near constant crowds, my opinion is that of the minority.

As far as I am concerned, the sign tells you everything you need to know. Almost.

Jacque-Imo's - Bogey

Barcelona Tapas

While New Orleans had one hell of a February this year, the natives of Spain have much to brag about this July. Yesterday, upon the header of Carles Puyol, La Furia Roja advanced to its first ever World Cup Final match, setting up a Sunday afternoon showdown with the Dutch/Holland/Netherlands/People with Wooden Shoes. Meanwhile, the Basque region is currently throwing a little party called San Fermines, which you might know as the "Running of the Bulls." This weekend our fair city will be hosting our own version of San Fermin, complete with an Encierro on Saturday morning. All this talk making you hungry for tapas? We got you covered.

Tapas restaurants can leave you shaking your head. You go in expecting a meal, nibble at five or six plates of food, walk out $100 poorer, and starving. Granted, a tapas restaurant is not traditionally a place one eats a full meal at. Were you living in Spain, you would know tapas as a snack to eat while drinking your jerez or txakolina.

At Barcelona Tapas, owner Xavier Laurentino, has bridged the gap between the American expectation for a full meal and the traditional Spanish notion of tapas. The menu is enormous, and Laurentino is "constantly tinkering with it."
The most difficult aspect to grasp is knowing how much to order; tapas are not like sushi where you know how many rolls will fill you up. A good rule of thumb is 3-4 tapas per person, which may not seem like enough food but the progression of dishes allows you to slowly fill your tank and realize when you're full.

Start with the tomato breads or canoes, which are both a similar concept to anyone familiar with bruschetta. Both the tomato bread and the canoes, top grilled bread with tasty ingredients from the Iberian peninsula. The difference? The canoes let the toppings speak for themselves, whereas the tomato breads meld the ingredients into something different. An especially flavorful canoe showcases the brilliance of manchego and quince paste. Skip the garlic shrimp and brie in favor of meatier options like beef and pork tenderloin with gouda.

On one visit the tomato breads arrived with toasted bread, cherry tomatoes, garlic cloves and a dish of serrano ham. You are instructed to rub the garlic, then tomato, over the coarse bread and create your own tomato bread. On another visit, the work had been done by the kitchen, which is a necessary justification for the $7-$9 price tag.

The best surprise of the small bread-based tapas may have been the simplest. Laurentino serves his version of Caprese salad with tomato, mozzarella, mint (rather than basil), and a reduction of balsamic vinegar. It tastes of summer, yes, but also better highlights the interplay between sweet tomato and salty mozzarella.

Fried potatoes are excellent in two forms. Thin, crispy patatas fritas arrive alongside a single, charred lamb chop lollipop. The only sauce either need is provided in the form of a garlic laden, creamy allioli. Patatas bravas have a fiery sauce and are delicious on their own. The calamari we differed on. Rene loved the way it's firm flesh tasted of the beach and the sprinkling of smoky paprika, on the other hand Peter thought the chewiness was a bit offputting.

The simple slices of manchego on toast should be skipped, and the ceviche, Caesar salad, and avocado shrimp tropical were forgettable. Listen closely to the day's specials, especially if you hear the words "marinated artichoke heart." This special is prepared exclusively by Laurentino and features an upright heart atop a base of grilled manchego which is then drizzles with aged balsamic vinegar. The much touted roasted piquillo peppers stuffed with salmon mousse were ordered on one visit, but the dish never made it to the table. Oh well, there will definitely be a next time.

Laurentino does an admirable job with his paella. While we are assured of its authenticity from numerous sources, it seems bland compared to jambalaya. This is not a criticism of paella in general or Laurentino's paella in specificity; just an observation that for anyone who has spent a fall afternoon eating jambalaya while waiting for that 7:00pm kickoff in Death Valley, you will find yourself reaching for the hot sauce.

We always get in trouble when we talk about interior decorating, but here it goes. The inside of Barcelona tapas is cool. Laurentino, a former contractor, spent years building and shaping the building himself. As you enter, an ocean blue, mosaic topped bar anchors one half of the anteroom. The door to the kitchen looks as if it was ripped off a Spanish monastery. Exposed beams line the ceiling creating an illusion of dining in an ancient corridor of a castle.

The bar mixes a, excellent not-so-sweet sangria poured into glasses filled with diced apple. The wine list is a medley of Spanish varietals augmented by Italian and California selections; sadly txakolina is nowhere to be found. In this heat, stick with an ice cold Estrella. For dessert you have a choice of flan or creme brulee, the latter served either in the classic French style or spiced up with cinnamon in the Catalan style. Barcelona does not accept credit cards, but there is an ATM machine up front (no fee).

As far as Spanish food is concerned in New Orleans, Barcelona Tapas gets a birdie from us.

¡Viva España!

Barcelona Tapas

720 Dublin
New Orleans, LA 70118
(504) 861-9696

Tuesday - Sunday from 5:30pm - Till

3 Roses Shy of a Dozen

Eating Vietnamese food is messy work. After a good feasting, the table is littered with plates, bowls with tiny lagoons of dipping sauce, sheets of lettuce, tufts of herbs, shards of crumbs, glasses, and napkins galore. Your shirt is likely covered in specks of sauce flung from a noodle as it wiggled its way toward your mouth. This is elbows on the table, slurping, beer drinking cuisine. And no one in town does it better than Nine Roses.

Everything at Nine Roses is first rate. Two words of caution though: (1) It is closed on Wednesdays, and (2) it does not have banh mi. If it is your first experience with Vietnamese order the bun. We would force you to get it with chargrilled pork and egg rolls, but you already knew that. The pork's dark, sweet and crusty outside hides an interior of juiciness and salt. If the perfect bite of food existed, we feel it would be comprised of noodles, nuoc mam, chargrilled pork, the crust of an eggroll, and a slice of cucumber.

The quail is another stand out dish. Four or five quail arrived, their skins bronzed like Pauly D from fragrant, exotic rubbed in spices and dry roasting. Next to them sit elastic pillows of smooth, steamed dough. You pry open the dough, stuff it with quail meat and crisp accoutrements, fold it over and bite. Soft dough, rich quail, fresh herbs; it's enough to make a Glee worthy chorus sing out in your mouth.

You would also do well to focus on the dishes which we call "roll it yourself." Tennis ball sized pork meatballs get wrapped inside sheets of romaine and dunked in fish sauce flecked with chili flake (above). It is as close to healthy as pork is ever gonna be. Or try ground shrimp wrapped around a shaft of sugar cane and then grilled to impart a smoky and sweet edge (below). To assemble, first dip rice paper in hot water to moisten. Toss on some mint, a few bean sprouts, and roll. (Come on, college wasn't that long ago, you can do this.) Then drag it through the salty, sweet and deep flavor of peanut sauce.

Of course there is the Number 9 on the menu, which is Number 1 in our hearts. Citrus marinated raw beef crown a nest of sliced onions and thin disks of lemon. You don't so much eat this dish as you inhale the aromas and feel the textures. If you love Vietnamese food, this is the payoff. The way they coax such big, intoxicating flavors out of seemingly simple ingredients. Onions, beef, lemon, and herbs - in America that becomes a hamburger with caramelized onions and lemonade. The result in Vietnam is a light, fragrant dish which may just encourage you to go for a run.

The menu lists other offbeat selections, such as tender morsels of goat swimming in a sea of yellow curry and slices of onion. Chinese brocoli is a heaping pile of leafy greens attached to thick, woodsy stems all sauteed in lip-smacking oyster sauce. These are dishes which only the adventurous diners usually order, but anyone willing to take a chance will likely enjoy.

Most of our shirts at home tell the tale of our love affair with Vietnamese cuisine. But the stains we love the most come from Nine Roses. Maybe that sounds weird, but we say it is strong indication of why Nine Roses is the best Vietnamese in the town.

The Rankings

Food - Eagle. Consistently the best. Nine Roses does the little things right which makes a best difference. The pork is sliced in thicker than normal chunks, which allows a nice crust to develop while preserving a tender interior. The veggies are always fresh enough to make noise when you bite into them.

Bar/Wine/Service - Birdie. You don't drink wine here. You drink beer, tea, or soda chanh. The latter is a teeth chattering excursion extolling lemonade's finer virtues. Service does a very good job of bridging the gap between the large menu and what you want to eat. Plus, if you have a question as to how to eat what you order, just ask. Then watch as nimble fingers make easy work.

Overall - Eagle. We sum up our endorsement of Nine Roses with a cinematic aside. In Field of Dreams, there is a wonderful scene in which Terrance Mann describes America's love affair with baseball thusly, "The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball. America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It has been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt and erased again. But baseball has marked the time. This field, this game: it's a part of our past, Ray. It reminds of us of all that once was good and it could be again. Oh... people will come Ray. People will most definitely come." (Spine tingling audio here).

Well, we have eaten Vietnamese all over the city, and the one constant has been Nine Roses. People will come. People should most definitely go.

Short Order Reviews

Instead of giving you one long review to sort through this Thursday, how about a bunch of short reviews of places where we have been eating? What you don't like that idea? Well, than go take a long walk off a short bridge.

What better way to start off than with breakfast, though I would choose somewhere other than the Peppermill, which is where The Folk Singer and I stopped in one early Sunday morning on the way home from the airport. The interior is dated to the 70s – wall mural in the center, pale yellows, low lighting – the place just has a worn out feel (and not in a good way). Tired is the more appropriate term. An omelet was heavy and dense instead of light and fluffy, the biscuit was dry, and the hollandaise was an orange, gritty mess. Even the excellence of the Belgian waffle - crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside, and served with warm maple syrup - could not resurrect this meal. The Peppermill: Bogey - Peter.

Craving old school Italian a few weeks ago, Lindsay and I headed to Vincent's. This is the place you go when you want to dip enough breadsticks to plug a leaking oil well into garlicky, green onion specked butter and sip lusty red wine while listening to Sinatra at the Sands. The house dressing can best be described as olive salad put through a finer dice, but it works equally well on thick slices of tomato and mozzarella as it does on thin slices of carpaccio. Try the veal parmesan. As the Turk says, "It's the best in the city." For old school Italian, I give it a Birdie - Rene

Let's stay in the land of the Azurris. Nor-Joe's, the Italian delicatessen/grocer/trading post in Old Metry (the "OM" to locals), puts out the city's finest muffaletta. You can have it cold or hot, your choice. While the razor tongued ladies make your sandwich, roam the aisles. You know how you go to Whole Foods for a piece of pork and walk out $78 poorer carrying a pint of flax seed oil and some organic tofu? Shopping in Nor-Joe's is a Mediterranean version of that phenomenon. Your basket will soon hold marcona almonds, sherry vinegar, peppery olive oil, a chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano, a wedge of Pecorino Romano, a bottle of grappa, and salted cod. Enjoy the sandwich on the deck with an ice cold Moretti. Just a word of caution, be nice and polite to the ladies who work there. If you are not as soon as you leave they will talk about you behind your back. And you will deserve all the vitriol they can muster. For muffalettas and grocery shopping, I give it an Birdie/Eagle - Rene

During my last year in Baton Rouge, TFS and I became obsessed with Bay Leaf, an Indian restaurant off Sherwood Forest, and we have been trying to find something in Nola on par with their curries ever since. After one look, Taj Mahal does not seem to make the cut. The meal started off on the wrong foot: no air condition in the dining room and the kitchen was completely out of lamb. Most meats on the tandoori platter were dry, the mint and tamarind sauces were weak, and the raita tasted watered down. On the positive side, the mixed bread basket had several types of naan stuffed with potato, cheese, and onions - all delicious. With so many entrees on the menu, it's too early to pass judgment. But I am looking for marked improvement from Taj Mahal on the next visit. - Peter

What do you do when you have time to kill? We go eat Vietnamese. Last Saturday before braving a 4 year old's birthday party, we gave Pho Tau Bay a chance to assuage the pains of a few too many. Ehhh. The flavors were muted, the chargrilled pork sliced to thin, the banh mi skimpy, and the pho broth milky. But the tendon in their pho is some of the best in town. Pho Tau Bay: Par - Rene

Casablanca

Word association for "Casablanca" might point some of you toward this:

However, I'm thinking more like this:

But I applaud your taste in sitcoms.

Casablanca serves up Moroccan and Middle Eastern fare in its strip mall location just across from Lakeside on Severn. The menu is entirely Kosher, and if the rabbinical seal of approval is not convincing enough, then take note that:

1. The restaurant is closed on Saturdays,
2. You will see more than your fair share of yamulkes in the dining room, and
3. There is a sink to be specifically used for Netilat yadayim La'Pat. (Thank you, wikipedia.)

I could continue on about how the menu proclaims a "minimum gratuity" of 15% for lunch and 18% for dinner, but (a) I don't believe in perpetuating stereotypes, (b) the waitstaff has never said anything to me about the policy, and (c) my checks never included any minimum charges for gratuity.

On to more important things, like the food. The menu lists the Mediterranean standards like hummus, falafel, and shawarma, all done well but priced higher than we have grown accustom to. The flavors and textures are recognizable but different. For example, hummus and baba ganoush are whipped to a mayo-like consistency, and the house dressing tastes and looks like French dressing mixed with honey mustard.

The best choices on the menu are under the "Exotic Entrees" heading. Here you will find a mix of charbroiled meats along with the classics like moussaka and spinach pie. The Mediterranean Combo delivers a monstrous grape leaf stuffed almost entirely with meat, a surprisingly light slab of spinach pie, and a generous portion of slightly-sweetened moussaka. The Couscous Plate (top) is cooked in a tagine with lots of softened vegetables - carrot, zucchini, cabbage, onions - and chunks of lamb. Hearty, but not enough meat to justify $21 price tag. Same goes for the tender morsels of chicken in the Chicken Marrakech ($20, immediately above).

But I guarantee that what you will most remember about the meal is the Moroccan rice. Cooked with finely ground onions, saffron, cinnamon, and turmeric, the aroma is absolutely intoxicating and the taste is just as good. I could eat this stuff morning, noon, and night. If you go to Casablanca and order french fries, then you have just made one of the biggest mistakes of your life.

The Rankings

Food - Par/Birdie. I like the standard hummus, shawarma, etc. at other places for lower prices, but the house specialties are unique and delicious. I can't say enough good things about the rice.

Wine/Bar/Service - Par. The menu lists only kosher wine and a few domestic beers. The waitstaff is very friendly but usually short-handed.

Overall - Par/Birdie. Chances are that if you come here for lunch, you are going to leave feeling that you did not get your money's worth. But there is no denying the excellence of the entrees, whose higher prices are more justifiable at dinner. Go in with that mindset and be rewarded.

The Grocery

Hidden behind the oaks on St. Charles, The Grocery has been pressing and turning out delicious po-boys and sandwiches since before ya Mama 'n 'dem had to remodel. Open only for lunch, during the school year the Grocery is oft filled with high school girls who have either figured out how to sneak off campus or have some liberal lunch attendance policy. In the summer, the crowds die down but just a bit, as the location is an easy drive from the CBD for a sandwich, bag of Zapp's, and a cold drink.

Procedure at The Grocery can be a little confusing, so allow us to walk you through:

1. Peruse the menu written on chalkboards hung high above the partition separating the kitchen from the dining room.
2. Place your order at the counter and give your name.
3. Grab your choice of beverage from the cooler and bag of chips from the rack.
4. Wait for your name to be called. If a seat is available, take it.
5. When your name is called, pickup your food at the counter and pay your tab.

The menu lists numerous po-boys and pressed sandwiches, most filled with deli-style meats. Save for fried seafood, the usual list of po-boys is all here, with a more than respectable roast beef and gravy. The Grocery will even press a po-boy, but somehow this just doesn't seem right on certain sandwiches. Ham and cheese, yes. The melted cheese creates an adhesive layer to lock in all the ingredients. But on roast beef this method causes the unsloppiness of the noble Leidenheimer bread.

But there is no better pressed sandwich then The Cuban (immediately above), which is localized with a generous slathering of creole mustard. On the other hand, the Milan Special fails at disproving the theory that a roast beef sandwich is worth eating either without gravy or on wheat bread. If you are venturing outside of the hot, crusty confines of french bread, then look no further than the Reuben.

Potato salad is a cold, creamier version of mashed potatoes, and the cole slaw does nothing more than round out the meal. Instead, choose from the wide range of Zapp's lined up on the chip rack. Desserts are limited to chewy brownies and red velvet cupcakes, both made by Cake Cafe. You will also notice the music in The Grocery has a much more edgy ring to it. Maybe that is how he gets the kids and keeps the adults.

The Rankings

Food - Par. The pressed sandwiches are the heavy draw at The Grocery, and the kitchen succeeds in delivering a crunchy exterior without the slight bit of greasiness. Po-boys ranks a few notches below the specialists around town. The specialty sandwiches are well executed, but you could probably replicate most at home with a bit of time and a panini press.

Wine/Bar/Service - Par. The guy taking your order has an upbeat and witty demeanor which initiates back-and-forth banter with the customers. The dining room has enough seating for about 25, and that can cause patrons to become territorial and a bit agitated during the lunch rush. Although the dining room has no bar, there is something rewardingly libertarian about pulling your own cold beer from the fridge.

Overall - Par. The Grocery will probably not create memories or satisfy a major craving, but it will deliver a good sandwich at a solid value.

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.

The American Sector

A plate of pork cheeks with a sauce of black eyed peas sits on top of crumbled cornbread at John Besh's latest venture, The American Sector in the World War II museum.

Initial Impressions

Peter: Lots of natural light with the walls of windows on both ends of the dining room. High ceilings and well-spaced tables allow for easy conversation even when the dining room is slammed.

But what is with the low chairs? I feel like I am eating in a grade school cafeteria - just call me Billy Madison. Also, much like Billy longing for a snack pack, there were no complimentary pickles on my visit.

Rene: A bright, open space, The American Sector calls to mind a well-designed aircraft hanger. Lining the walls, photos of Louis Armstrong, Bob Hope, and Generals from yesteryear oversee a line of tables, an indoor patio area, and a horseshoe shaped bar. Behind the bar is a gentlemen adorned with a handlebar mustache and tight sleeves, predating the Forties by about 35 years.

As a history major in college, I am enamored with most things World War II. In fact, I once broke up with a girl because she didn't know what century WWII was in... among other things. That is right, century; the punishment fit the crime. So from the outset I am predisposed to like the joint because it is in the WWII museum. While I have never eaten anything besides a pre-packed lunch for a field trip in a museum before, this looks promising. The house made pickles (below) quell your hunger as you peruse your menu.

Order

Peter: Rabbit pâté; onion rings; slow cooked beef tongue on sourdough (below); sample bites of the Sloppy Joe and Vietnamese po-boy.

Rene: Fried chicken gizzards with mustard sauce; chicken wings; meatloaf with mushroom gravy, mashed potatoes, and green beans; and pork cheeks with black eye peas and crumbled corn bread.


Food

Peter: The rabbit pâté is served in a flat can from the era and with saltines. A thin protective layer of fat protects a relatively smooth spread with shreds of rabbit meat immersed throughout. I taste a pronounced flavor of cognac or brandy, perhaps. The onion rings are coated in a thick, donut-esque batter which you can sink your teeth in. Served in a towering stack, these rings are different, if not excellent.

The slow-cooked tongue reminded me of chipped beef on toast. The meat was tender but needed more salt, and I think this would have been better served over mashed potatoes or mac and cheese instead of in sandwich form. Banh mi had a strange sweetness to it. Sloppy Joe was very good - tender shreds of beef in a nice tomato sauce. Thick-cut housemade potato chips were addictive.

But there were two overarching descriptions for all of the food: heavy and messy. The food lacked the polish I (perhaps erroneously) expected from a Besh restaurant, but I guess it fits the WWII era stick-to-your-ribs type of food which the menu is supposed to be emulating. Still, the food was a little too soft for me and difficult to eat, a situation which was exasperated by the low chairs and wooden butcher blocks that the sandwiches are served on.

Rene: Some dishes you just want a whole bucket of to snack on with some ice cold beer. Case in point: the gizzards. Wow. The crackly batter is seasoned judiciously to showcase the sublime gizzards. The mustard sauce provides a nice punch back against the richness of the main attraction. Ditto on the chicken wings. Its nearly impossible to find a well-made wing in this town. Too often the damn things are doused in some sort of hazardous substance and sent out flabby or dry. Not here, the chicken wings were succulent, crunchy and coated in a sauce more resembling a reduced pepper jelly than poor man's version of hot sauce beurre blanc.

The meatloaf could have entered and won a meatloaf contest. A sturdy top and bottom surrounded a tender interior studded with brunoised bits of carrots, celery, and onion. The contrasting sauces - the bright, spicy tomato based topping and creamy, earthy gravy- got along very well together. The potatoes were smoother than a cot on a Navy vessel, where the overcooked green beans would have been at home as well.

The pork cheeks came to the table with theatrics. One server drops a bowl filled with chunks of cornbread and those delicate cheeks. Then a second server comes by and pours over the whole dish a steaming serving of black eyed peas cooked with a solid dose of bacon. If the circus seems a little silly (and it is), the creamy, porky, corny goodness washes away that feeling. But we should have ordered lighter as we were stuffed at this point.

Service

Peter: Our server was cheerful and helpful without being overly caught up in the theme. The staff on the whole is quite young, which makes me wonder if the American Sector is training ground in the Besh empire. Even if that is the case, the service is more than satisfactory.

Rene: The vibe is kitschy with servers dressed in period costume - think polka dotted dresses and starched white shirts with black bow ties rather than jump pants and bomber jackets. For the veteran heroes who dine here, it must be quite enjoyable. The servers do a pretty good job of moving courses in and courses out, but there are some struggles when the place gets busy.

Closing Thoughts

Peter: I wanted to like this place from the second I walked in the door. The ambiance and decor are unique and engaging, and the attraction of the museum is a great addition to the city in terms of both educational value and entertainment. But the food was disappointing, perhaps because of my own flawed expectations. After reading Rene's thoughts, I want to go back and order from the main course offerings.

Rene: The busy times seem to be right after the show in the Victory Theater or Stage Door Canteen lets out. So plan your visit accordingly. The Besh Group has given New Orleans another concept restaurant which works where it is. And if you find yourself in the World War II museum (as you should), a meal here sure beats a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in a brown bag by a long shot.

Rankings

Peter: Bogey/Par.

Rene: Par/Birdie.

La Petite Grocery

One of the ideas we have had here is to create a Family Tree of New Orleans chefs. It would trace the lineage of chefs through those they trained under and whom they in turn trained.

Justin Devillier, chef at La Petite Grocery, would present quite the challenge. Not because of figuring out who he trained under, but deigning where he is going. His cuisine mixes locally driven ingredients with haute Cajun techniques against a backdrop of refined, bistro cuisine. Devillier - along with Mark Falgoust, Sue Zemanick, and Nathaniel Zimet - is part of the new vanguard of chefs pushing our cuisine forward by adding to the Creole canon new ethnic flavors. Where you can find crab beignets sharing the menu with Asian, Mexican, Middle Eastern flavors on duck, crab, shrimp, and the rest of the lot.

The kitchen does things with boudin which should only take place behind closed doors. While the fried boudin balls at Cochon get all the press, the ones here are addictive. They are smaller and pack a greater wallop of liver. Eat them up before your friend comes back from the bathroom. Chilled roasted beets and pickled red onion serve as a base for blue crab (or crawfish tails now in season) dressed with a palate perking horseradish emulsion. The steak tartare here also deserves your attention. The meat is cubed into a fine dice and sent out with a quail egg, traditional garnishes, and a sauce which marries mustard and red wine in such a good fashion it should be the official sauce of Dijon.

Short ribs have been around the block more times than Larry King, but at LPG they are cooked in an intense root beer based broth which ties the beverage of the Gulf Coast to the flavorings of Vietnamese pho - star anise, cloves, and other hard spices. A thick, warming sauce coats the beef with rib sticking qualities. Potato croquettes dot the plate, their crunchy exterior and creamy inside mixing the best qualities of the french fry and mashed potato into one bite.

The pork shank, a special on a cold night in February, would have made a caveman happy. The huge, cylinder of meat coiled around the bone on top of greens braised with slivers of garlic and loads of pork. (Might we suggest LPG start selling the pot likker by the gallon?) Same goes for the creamy stoned ground grits available with local shrimp at lunch or just as a side dish at any time of day. This is comfort food at it's core, but damn is it good.

Where the kitchen falters is where it tries to wrangle in national trends. Duck breast on a recent visit arrived a little too rare. This trend needs to stop. We understand it is hip, but so was New Kids on the Block at one point. Duck develops its sensual, deep flavor when it is cooked past medium, and if done properly it does not dry out. But undercooked duck is stringy and unpleasant. That criticism aside, go boldly in the direction of your dreams, Chef.

The wine list shows good range bouncing from the hearty, earthy reds from Chateauneuf-duPape, to the lemony freshness of the affordable Ferrari-Carano Fume blanc. You can blow the budget on the big Napa Cabs on the list, but there are values and options for all. Of course there is the nearly required list of specialty cocktails, but their Sazerac is the best choice.

Justin's wife, Mia, recently joined the team to lead the front of the house (née of Lilette). As a result, we have noticed what has always been good service begin to rise to the level of greatness. Case in point: on the cold, draft eve of the pork shank the suggestion to steer away from a glass of white wine and to a Sazerac turned out to be just what was needed. "They are a team. They needed one another," said Joel Dondis, owner, recently.

La Petite Grocery has a rising star in the kitchen, whose experiences, training, and background begets a new approach to bistro cuisine in New Orleans. The building is well-adorned, the bar handsome, the service smart. So what are you waiting for?

The Rankings

Food - Birdie. The kitchen needs to drop any allegiance to national trends and keep pushing forth in developing their unique style. Devillier's best dishes are the ones that sound simplest: braised greens, slow simmered meats, etc...

Wine/Bar/Service - Birdie. A wine list this thorough in what is a small, neighborhood spot requires serious purchasing power. Which La Petite Grocery has in spades with Joel Dondis behind it. But instead of just throwing a dart at the priciest wines in the portfolio, they have chosen smart options which pair well with Devillier's cooking at any price point.

Overall - Birdie. La Petite Grocery fits a perfect niche for what they are doing. They are steps above the neighborhood spot in terms of cooking, service, and price; yet affordable and accessible enough for a pop in every few weeks. Be it for dinner, lunch, or a glass of wine and some snacks.

MiLa

A plate of pan roasted halibut with tangerine hollandaise and spring vegetables gets a final dusting of spice from Chef Allison Vines-Rushing of MiLa.

A grit. As a single speck of coarsely ground corn meal, it draws little attraction or attention. But when cooked gently with friends - salt, some cream, a pat of butter - they become human. When a cook folds bits of black truffle into those grits, they become feminine. And when that heaping pile of grits is topped with crispy sweetbreads and a sherry bacon jus, you are staring at the sexiest dish in this hemisphere.

Such a dish is one of the many standouts at MiLa, a powerhouse of a restaurant in the Pere Marquette Renaissance Arts Hotel. The beauty in this dish, and what we have learned is representative of the cooking at MiLa, is how the dish seems so simple, yet so complex. Chefs Slade Rushing and Allison Vines-Rushing have assembled a well-tuned machine of cooks who seem to instinctively know how to not let technique ruin a pristine ingredient.

The craftsmanship of the kitchen crew highlights the ingredients without overshadowing them - much like a loud rock band deciding to play an acoustic first set. Take, for example, a ravioli at a recent dinner held in conjunction with the Crescent City Farmer's Market. First, they juiced kale, reduced it, and added it to fresh pasta dough. Then they stuffed the inside of the plumpy green ravioli with tender, but toothsome, greens. Under the ravioli, dijon punched up the sweetness of a beet puree. On top, a scattering of fried mushrooms marinated to infuse them with the smokiness of bacon. Earthy, rich, umami, soulful, etc... are all words one could use to describe it. But here is something simpler: delicious.

Lettuces most often find themselves relegated to salad bars, burgers, and e. coli outbreaks. But at MiLa, bitter greens and sweet lettuces are braised and pureed into a thick, satisfying soup. The bottom of the bowl holds a little treasure trove of truffles, while a poached egg serves as a raft for a chapeau of crouton. This is not the springy, grassy flavor of lettuces, but a hearty, sturdy undertone of an ingredient which endured through the winter. The assembly of the soup brought forth the image of a field in spring - truffle culled from the earth, the green grass, white cloud of egg, and peeking out from behind the cloud a single burst of bright orange yolk. Artistry, yes; but food first.

On the lunch menu the butter poached chicken deserves your attention. The chicken, plump and juicy, cradles little baby fingerling potatoes. A slight patina of red wine demi glace fortified with bacon added the deep flavors that braising brings to a dish, without sacrificing the juiciness of a well-cooked breast of chicken.

The kitchen here delights in taking a classic Southern or New Orleans dish and reworking it, with new ingredients and techniques. The example oft quoted is their Oysters Rockefeller Deconstructed. But that is not the best example, as we find the licorice root to be too emotional and attention grabbing in what should be a dish highlighting oysters.

But on an early visit, a tian of crab called to mind a variety of dishes from the New Orleans shellfish repertoire, while remaining entirely unique. Petite dice of tomato served as a base and acid component for the sweet jumbo lump tossed in a light sauce. The result was both comforting and challenging.

Shrimp remoulade from MiLa.

Desserts have always been a strong course at MiLa. The desserts bear the watermark of Slade, while Allison usually works the hot or savory side of the line. Slade's desserts call into focus most clearly the vision of the restaurant, "Tastes inspired by a Southern childhood." There are peanut butter and chocolate confections, root beer floats, and strawberry shortcakes all gussied up, without being fussed up.

Service at MiLa struggled in the beginning but has significantly improved with a steady cadre of well-tuned waiters and waitresses. They dress to fit the role of this hip eatery. Brown button downs, designer jeans, and hip sneakers. That can guide your wardrobe choice as well.

As you first enter the restaurant a wall of glass enclosed wine welcomes you. The wine list offers an attractive program where everyday promises 30 wines for $30 by the bottle. That special helps lower the check average if you are dining on a budget, as food costs come in on the higher end of the spectrum. But fear not, as you can experience MiLa at lunch for around $20 for 3 courses.

But what you are paying for is locally sourced, impeccable ingredients and very fine cooking. When MiLa first opened, while we loved the food, it seemed to be a restaurant looking for its identity. And in the same vein, as diners we were trying to figure out what kind of restaurant it was. Is it a hotel restaurant catering to New York hipsters? A place to grab a bite to eat while the wedding you were invited to finishes up next door? French cuisine with a Southern bend? What?

Luckily, for both parties, the question has been answered. MiLa has established itself as a player in the ultra competitive, New Orleans fine dining field. Look around at the number of chefs, highly regarded around the country and world, who practice their craft right here. The competition is fierce to be the best fine dining restaurant in New Orleans. While we don't know if MiLa owns the crown, it certainly belongs in the title round.

The Rankings

Food - Eagle. This kitchen can cook in a highly technical manner without messing up what nature intended. Don't miss - Sweetbreads, truffle grits, sherry bacon jus; BBQ lobster; Scallops; Duck; Whatever dessert makes you remember childhood.

Bar/Wine/Service - Birdie/Par. Great cocktails (Chris McMillan tends bar in the hotel's lobby) and affordable, broad wine list make the bar at MiLa a good place to have a quick bite and a glass of something nice. While service has improved steadily, at these price points and with this beautiful food it could be a bit more attentive. But maybe that is not the vibe they are going for.

Overall - Birdie. Ranking fine dining restaurants is going to be very hard, but MiLa delivers where it counts: with the food and booze. We consider this restaurant to be worth both your time and more importantly your money.

Full Disclosure: We were invited to attend last week's vegetarian dinner. We went and brought the women in our lives. We paid for their meals, but ours were on the house. We tasted the food on their plates, and it was no different.

Nanou Nanou

Tucked away on Robert St. is a portal into Paris. Crepe Nanou has been serving the fare of the Parisian Bistro for two decades, and while not everything you eat will have you wanting to reread Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, much of it is very good.

Pastis, here Pernod, is a strong opening to any meal. Pour into the glass a few drops of ice cold water and watch the liquor become a cloud of sunshine. The French drink pastis to revive themselves after a long day in the sun. If you like it though, you need no excuses.

The menu tows the line with a limited collection of starters with nothing extraneous: a few light salads, one or two soups, pâté and cheese plates. The pâté plate had some stunning examples of the craft of charcuterie, but the hardened, greasy saucisson and bland olives need to be replaced. For a restaurant a baguette's throw away from St. James Cheese Co., they can do better than this.

Lindsay ordered a butternut squash soup with shrimp. Often times a restaurant's butternut squash soup is a Robo Coupe, whipped concoction that seems more fitting to be served at dessert. Not at Nanou, which features a light shrimp stock holding chunks of butternut squash and nice, firm shrimp.

Chances are you come here for the crepes, but save that for the final course. Instead direct your attention to the sweetbreads entree where golf ball sized morsels of tender, rich glands marry particularly well with a caper beurre blanc. A tart, crisp salad of julienned vegetables tossed in a mild dressing provides palate cleaning contrast. The dish also comes with brabant potatoes. The menu uses that term quite liberally, and the dish would be better with a more conservative version of those spuds. Alex Chilton's favorite roast chicken is not the best example of that dish, but bearnaise can do wonders to an overcooked bird.

The desserts section of the menu is where crepes can show their strength. The Crepe Marrons brings forth a heaping spoonful of chestnut cream and a scoop of coffee ice cream on top of a crepe doused in flaming rum. It sends spoons into a feeding frenzy. The burning question, though, is why Nutella is absent from the choice of fillings.

Service at Crepe Nanou bears more than a passing resemblance to the relaxed attention present in Parisian bistros. Rather than fuss over you, the service staff is content to let you enjoy your meal in peace and quiet. A nice selection of European beers and wines round out what will be at worse a pleasant evening out. At its best though, Crepe Nanou is a vacation.

Crepe Nanou - Par for food, Birdie for ambiance, Par overall.

Juan's

In my office, choosing where to eat lunch is akin to passing healthcare reform. Factions are split between cost, time, substance, and just when you think an agreement has been reached, there is always someone lying in wait to organize a filibuster. Thankfully, one choice we can all agree on is Juan's Flying Burrito. While the proliferation of authentic taquerias around town have pushed Tex-Mex further back in my mental list of preferred cuisines, Juan's is never far from my mind. The menu is unique enough to differentiate it from the typical place cranking out never ending combinations of meat, tortillas, and sauce which all manage to taste the same.

Chips and salsa are not free at Juan's, so we usually start with an order of Beans, Rice, and Chips - a heaping bowl of black beans and rice topped with melted cheese, red salsa, sour cream, and jalapenos. Although the chips are straight from a bag, it's still a great value at $4.

Although most people choose the familiar chicken/steak/taco/burrito route, I usually tend toward the specialties. The Pork 'n Slaw tacos is a former special which has evolved into a menu staple. Shredded pork in a light tomato sauce are filled in taco shells and topped with crunchy cabbage slaw. I once witnessed Willy Wonka eat a half dozen of these.

The quesadillas are huge and range from the simple (my preference) to the extravagant. The latter is best represented in the Bacon Azul filled with ground beef, bacon, crumbles of blue cheese, grilled onions, mushrooms, and more cheese. Too rich for my blood.

The most offbeat choice on the menu is likely my favorite. The Chicken Juaha Roll is filled with cold almond chicken salad, fresh spinach, a little cream cheese, avocado, salsa, and jack cheese. All of this is rolled inside a spinach tortilla cut sushi style, and then sprinkled with parmesan. Best of all, this concoction is classified as a salad on the menu, which appeases my healthy conscience.

The ambience at both the Mid-City and Uptown locations is alternative to say the least. While the children running amok on Carrollton creates a "McDonald's Playland gone wrong" atmosphere, Magazine Street is seemingly more refined with it's long, narrow dining room and wooden booths and chairs. Visible ink and piercings appear to be a requirement for employment at both locations, but for some reason I wouldn't have it any other way. Lastly, while I am partial to the Mid-City location because it's closer to home, I must say that in my experience the original location on Magazine Street serves consistently better food.

Juan's Mid-City - Par
Juan's Uptown - Birdie