Cochon

You know, as often as we reference Cochon in our blog posts or write about all of the wonderful things going on at Butcher next door, we have rarely written about the food and/or dining experience at Donald Link's Eau du Pork. I guess today is as good a time as any.

I have eaten 3 meals at Cochon over the past 6 months, all of them excellent. I think that the first sentence from my notes on my most recent meal sums up in 4 words what would otherwise probably take me 2 hours to write:

"F*cking love this place."

If I could resist the rest of the menu, I could still leave happy from a meal consisting entirely of the complimentary lard rolls and a bottle of Seghesio Zinfandel. But I can't resist, so I usually compromise by only eating 3 lard rolls and drinking a half bottle of Seghesio. It's enough just self control to keep me going.

There are not many restaurants where I look at the menu and think, "I really want to order everything," but this thought crosses my mind every time I sit down for a meal at Cochon. Boudin balls are light, crisp on the outside, and almost creamy on the inside. Deep fat fried hogshead cheese (above) has a crunchy coating protecting a warm, spicy, gelatinous interior, with a rich cooling ravigote to match. Fried alligator are batter coated nuggets tossed in a fiery chili garlic aioli; put the dish in the center and try to avoid impaling each other with your fork tynes. A summertime special of paneed pork cheeks are paired with baked peanuts to create a buttery, nutty sauce, but it's the turnip and radish salad which brings the dish together with added freshness and crunch. The braised rib is a tender, boneless job, with a nice sweetness from diced beets. The spicy grilled ribs are bone sucking good, and the diced watermelon rind pickles almost taste like candy.

Usually I get so overwhelmed with the small plates and boucherie that by the time I end up ordering my entree, the waiter gives a concerned look and says, "Well, I already have you down for 8 small plates and there only two of you, so maybe hold off on the entree?" Try to pace yourself when ordering, because you do not want to miss out on the oven-roasted Gulf fish.  Served "Fisherman's style" as a skin on filet, the fish is simply dressed with salt, pepper, lemon, a little butter or oil, and a few slivers of garlic. When it's cooked perfectly, the flesh easily pulls from the skin in moist and tender sections. This single piece is alone worth $40 billion in oil spill cleanup costs, but I think BP should subsidize the $24 cost by adding a starch or a veg to the a la carte dish.

Desserts rotate with the season, and most diners fill up their tanks long before it comes time for this final course. But the the strong who survive till the end may be handsomely rewarded with what is (in my opinion) the best dessert in the city. It's a special called the "Peanut Butter Cup Pie" - a rich crumb crust, a thin layer of chocolate ganache on the bottom, and a whipped peanut butter mousse heaped on top.

There are only a few truly "Oh my God" moments in life.  This is one of them.

In the past 5 years, no New Orleans restaurant has received more national and local praise than Cochon. Some think that the accolades are unwarranted, especially the Dean of New Orleans restaurant critics:

"Cochon, even as good as it is, is certainly the most overrated restaurant in New Orleans.... Visitors to New Orleans walk away from Cochon satisfied, as do younger New Orleans diners. Both groups may be eating these dishes for the first times in their lives. Those of us who grew up with the stuff (this requires a certain age) might be less impressed. Beans and ham hocks are good, but can only be lifted so high."

Whether or not the food lives up to the hype is a matter of personal opinion, but regardless, I don't think Father Tom grew up eating poached yard egg with roasted mushrooms over a grit cake.

Cochon - Eagle

White Remoulade

Because I had a couple pounds of peeled shrimp leftover from a boil last week, I decided that there was no better way to gentrify those leftovers than in a nice remoulade. So I went in search for a bottle of Arnaud's Creole Remoulade but none was to be found in the Red Stick. After visiting 3 stores, I decided, "F*ck it. I can make this sh*t myself."

And I did, and it was embarrassingly easy and absolutely delicious. I decided to make white remoulade because something about the ketchup aspect of red remoulade turns me off. What I love most about this recipe is that there is a 99% chance that everything you need is already in your refrigerator. (So none of that making a special trip to Whole Foods for $13 worth of saffron which you need all of a 1/4 teaspoon of). This recipe is adapted from Fr. Tom's, with a few adjustments - most notably the addition of horseradish:

White Remoulade

• 1 cup mayo
• 1/2 cup creole mustard
• 1 tbs prepared horseradish
• 1 clove of finely minced/pulverized garlic
• 2 tbs fresh lemon juice
• 1 tsp worcestershire
• 1 tsp Tabasco
• 1 pinch ground red pepper
• Salt and pepper to taste

Whisk all ingredients together. Done. Don't be afraid to adjust the amounts to your own personal tastes. It will not hurt my feelings. Maybe add some sliced green onions. Go wild.

Then, take bread from Dong Phuong, slice lengthwise, and scoop out some of the interior with your fingers. (Eat crumbs straight from hand or give to that goose that you have been raising for foie gras). Toast bread for 1 minute. Remove bread and slather both sides with remoulade. Add cold shrimp, a little more remoulade, sliced avocado, tomato, and mixed greens. Do not forget to season the avocado and tomato with salt and pepper.

Voila.

Po-Boy Fest

As has been mentioned before from September of 2007 until April of 2008 your faithful scribe was exiled from the city of New Orleans. St. Louis is a wonderful town don't get me wrong, but they did not have a Po Boy Fest.

Unfortunately, I could not make the fest last year. Tears flowed, sobs were exchanged, and I spent three days wondering around grocery stores looking for Leidenheimer Bread, Blue Plate Mayo and those slimy pickles. When the cops finally found me, I had a Chisesi ham under my coat.

But I am back, and on Sunday I will be inhaling Po Boys faster than The Pope downs chargrilled oysters. The forecast is beautiful and there is no Saints game. Plus, if we don't eat things like Po Boys, Red Beans, and gumbo, then we become St. Louis. And it is cold in St. Louis.

Ohh, and listen it is Po Boy. I dont care what Father Tom claims nor whatever menus he consults. Languages and pronunciations are constantly evolving and the word is now Po Boy. Besides this is a guy who claims to be a Jesuit Alum yet he graduated from Rummel.

Dear Fr. Tom: You're Out of Your Element

This is from Fr. Tom's Dining Diary this past Thursday:

"Lola wasn't as busy as the last time I was there. They said it was LSU football. Restaurateurs hate LSU football, and must be glad to see the Tigers lose sometimes."

Whenever read something like this from Fr. Tom, I immediately think of this scene from The Big Lebowski:

Walter Sobchak: Were you listening to The Dude's story, Donny?
The Dude: Walter...
Donny: What?
Walter Sobchak: Were you listening to The Dude's story?
Donny: I was bowling.
Walter Sobchak: So you have no frame of reference here, Donny. You're like a child who wanders into the middle of a movie and wants to know...

I am not doubting Fr. Tom's contention that restaurateurs "hate LSU football." I am sure that restaurants are slow on Saturday nights when people are either at the game or watching the Tigers at home. But how would the Tigers losing improve restaurant business on Saturday night? What irritates me is how Fr. Tom has no idea how a loss would affect the Tigers at that particular point in time. Newsflash: even if the Tigers had lost to Florida (which is the game which Fr. Tom was referring to), they still would have been in the hunt for a National Championship game. In fact, one could make an argument that every game after a loss is even MORE important because there is no cushion left.

It just really bugged me when I read that on Friday. And after the loss on Saturday ... well ... let's just say that I had to allow a "cool off period" before writing this post.

End of rant.

In other news: Did anyone else have a heart attack on Sunday when Brees was running toward the back of the end zone? And if that wasn't enough, we had a Hail Mary on the last play of the game. The person sitting next to me almost broke out the defibrillator. I felt like I had just eaten a Fat Kid Special.

I like Fr. Tom, but...

Sometimes it is just hard to take him serious. Take this snippet from his website today in which he notes today is Thomas Keller's birthday.

Thomas Keller, the owner of The French Laundry in the Napa Valley, was born today in 1955. During the past decade, no other American restaurant has garnered the acclaim that the Laundry has. It routinely appears at or near the top of all Best Restaurants/Chefs In The Country/World lists. Lately, Keller's New York eatery, per se (they spell it in lowercase like that) has also been up there. Both the French Laundry and per se have three stars from Michelin; Keller is one of only two chefs in the world who have two such constellations. Dinner in either place involves committing an entire evening to a set tasting menu, and spending in excess of $200 per person (at least). I haven't been to either; I figure they're getting plenty enough coverage from other media. I'll go after they're no longer the hottest restaurant on earth, at which time Keller will still be at least as good, and probably better. I can't seem to detect the flavor of fame.

Using the classification "hottest" makes it seem like per se and The French Laundry opened last month. Unfortunately, I think the French Laundry can no longer be classified as the hottest restaurant on Earth. The French Laundry has been open since the mid 90's. It may still be a restaurant people are dying to get into but not because it is faddish. Christ, it can't be that exclusive, they let the Pope and Peter get a reservation. As someone so committed to good food and great wine would it have behooved Tom to make a "Tomment" about how the French Laundry is committed to his goals as well? Or maybe just dig a little deeper next time.

Sometimes the stubbornness and blinder driven persona of Tom really comes through.

O Sole Mila

Next week I am going to New York; last night I got a taste of the Big Apple. My sister found a babysitter and wanted to go out for an adult evening. Why she chose to spend it with me, I lack an answer for. We tossed around a few ideas before settling on Mila.

Mila operates in the space that was formerly Rene Bistrot but long before that the original home of Jesuit High School. The space is sleek, but comfortable with large banquettes circling the walls and huge picture windows. Golds, blues, and chocolates dominate the color palate; while serious food rules your palate.

We started with some cocktails. A madras for my sister, a Louisiana 75 for Lady, and a mint julep. The Louisiana 75 missed the mark. An amuse arrived. A crawfish and lobster empanada. Really tasty start right there. The buttery crust serving as the de facto "drawn butter" normally served with lobster.

Appetizers got a little larger. A Tian of Louisiana Crab for sister displayed the utter sweetness of crab this time of year. New Orleans Barbecue Lobster revealed perfectly cooked lobster with just enough flavoring to make the dish interesting without overpowering the taste of lobster. I got a salad; albeit, one with house cured duck ham. Would have liked a touch more acid on the mizuna greens but maybe that is just me.

Entrees really displayed the entirety of the Rushing's vision. Based on the portions sizes up to now, we were all expecting a rather minuscule main (which would have been fine) instead we each received a sizable and satisfying main dish. Tea smoked duck with a sweet glaze on top. Love duck prepared this way, Lady said she would have liked some more vegetables on the plate (so all of a sudden you are a health nut). Sister enjoyed her lemon fish in what looked to be a ramp or other spring onion vinaigrette; although she found some pieces of the fish tasted more fishy than other pieces. I rocked and I do mean rocked the veal medallions. Beyond tender pieces of veal served with a mushroom cream sauce.

2006 Acacia Pinot Noir paired nicely with all the above; the wine cellar of the restaurant is really unique. I can not describe it other than to say, "cool."

A Cheese plate with an eggplant marmalade satisfied Lady. I chose to go another more adult route and got the peanut butter and chocolate tart. If I had to pick one last sweet to eat before going to the great gig in the sky, it would probably be a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup (or egg if Easter). This dish was a sophisticated, damn fine version of that.

Service is incredibly efficient and approachable. Besides the New York vibe of the space, this restaurant is within arm's reach of familiar New Orleans cuisine. Hopefully, Mila will continue to push the New Orleans food scene further.

Even better, walking in we ran into Tom Fitzmorris who was also dining at Mila that evening. What is that saying about great minds?

Birdie on a really difficult par 5.

Cocktails, cocktails everywhere and more than a drop to drink

But first lunch at Cochon. Arrived around noon to a still barren dining room. By 12:15 the place was slammed. We decided to eat light. Started with a Hen and Andouille Gumbo. Dark, earthy, gelatinous and once again lives up to Link's status as the greatest gumbo assemblymen in New Orleans. Then a wedge salad with ranch, bacon, radishes, and croûtons. I know what you are thinking, "Wow, salad, what a waste." And I agree with you in general; however, not here. This salad was the perfect way to wade into a meal. Plus, we needed something green.

Next, an order of rabbit livers on toast with pepper jelly. I am not crazy about rabbit livers (totally a textual issue) but Lady loved them. Also, an order of Fried Boudin Balls with house cured jalepenos and stone ground mustard. The pig gets no higher than right here. Crunchy exterior gives way to a rice filled bonanza of spices. If Link and Stryjewski opened a movie theater, this dish would be their popcorn.

Then an order of pork cheeks over a corn cake. One can not help but notice the genealogy of this dish and its roots to the Bayona shrimp over coriander black bean cake. The pork cheeks are slow cooked, then molded into a hockey puck and sauteed with a mustard based sauce that could use a little more acidity. Finally, a simple order of hot sausage and peppers on top of creole cream cheese grits. For me this is the dish that represents Cochon. Soulful, simple, hearty fare with a light handed touch of upscale dining. Get this dish if you go; but good luck getting a reservation. I called for a Saturday night reservation recently (for about 3 weeks from now), the hostess informed me, "We can seat you at 5:30 or 11:45 p.m.

A great Spanish red and near excellent service rounded out the meal. Lady went back to work, I grabbed some dog food and went by Fed Ex. No time for Bed, Bath, Beyond.

"Are you sure we have to go?" asked Lady. It was 6 p.m. on Friday and bot of us were feeling the effects of a long week.

"Come on we will go for one maybe two drinks and if it is lame, we are out of there," I responded.

By the end of the night we would both be glad we went. The Japanese Room at Antoine's that evening has a capacity crowd of over 200 people who were in the mood to try as many cocktails as possible, pop an Oysters Foch or two, and raise money for a good cause. You have been to Antoine's, let us focus on the libations.

Republic Beverage sponsored the party and provided the booze and the bartenders. Along each side of the Japanese Room were tables set up with 2 cocktails apiece. I began with a Sazerac. I have no idea where my desire for anise flavors came from, but I am happy to oblige its tempestuous tug. Then, a French 75, Lady's favorite cocktail, for now. Cognac, Lemon Juice, Champagne, simple syrup, and a lemon peel. The glasses the cocktail was poured into were still hot from the dishwasher, turning the drink into a tepid mess, not dissimilar from drinking lemon scented bathwater. You are very welcome for that mental image.

A Manhattan, a Screwdriver, an Absinthe Frappe (again with the Anise) and a Vieux Carre Cocktail grabbed our attention at various moments. Then, Lady stumbled across the Pretty Baby and immediately had a new cocktail. Similar to a White Russian, this cocktail combined vodka (Stilleto brand), Creme de Cacao, milk, and grenadine. The Pretty Baby looks like Pepto-Bismol and tastes like a strawberry milkshake. A grasshopper finished up the dessert course.

Finally we each grabbed a twist on the classic Mint Julep. This version muddled together fresh Ponchatoula strawberries, mint, and sugar. Then, topped the mixture with ice and a generous pour of New Orleans Dark Rum. I think I have a new drink for Derby Day.

While this drink was being poured, I grabbed a hold of Fr. Tom and asked him for a tour of Antoine's. Earlier in the day, I heard him say, "If you see me tonight, ask me for a tour...my favorite thing to do is give tours of Antoine's." What a great way to spend an evening. His stories, coupled with the restaurant's many varied rooms, created a memory for a lifetime. Fr. Tom should give this tour to tourists and charge $35 a head, easily worth it. Following the tour, we bid adieu. At around 9:15 Antoine's was still fairly crowded with laughter and good cheer spilling from the storied restaurant. Ohh yeah, and we supported a good cause. What did you do on Friday to help humanity?

A Critique of a Restaurant Critic

We, the undersigned chefs of the greater New Orleans Area, have taken out this full page ad on Blackened Out to deride Tom Fitzmorris's Food Show on WSMB Radio. We find a list of grievances which we can no longer withhold from the public eye.

Issue #1: For over 20 years, Mr. Fitzmorris has assailed the eardrums of the local populace with his whiny voice. "It sounds like he is gargling frogs who have been smoking for over 50 years and have one of those voice box things. Yeah, voice boxed heavy smoking frogs being gargled, that is Tom's voice," said Chef John Besh.

"I have heard it said before that Mr. Fitzmorris has a 'face for radio' but I think a more apt description is that he has a voice for a typewriter," said Adolfo Garcia.

Be it resolved, Mr. Fitzmorris is required to take voice lessons from the ghost of Buddy D in order to make locals understand what he is saying.

Issue #2: Undercover research has revealed that Mr. Fitzmorris routinely chows down on plebian foodstuff such as Corndogs, Icees, and Krispy Kremes. How can a food critic in a city known for its diverse and unique foodstuffs deliver competent critiques of such food if his favorite meal is those rectangular sandwiches one picks up at Time-Saver?

For years, Mr. Fitzmorris has used his Dining Diary to cajole New Orleanians into trying foods he has never eaten. It is time to stop the lies, Tom. A Nation that holds dear the Freedom of the Press requires the Press to abide by its obligation to tell the truth.

"I tried to make a recipe from his 'New Orleans Cookbook' unfortunately Whole Foods did not stock Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup, Vienna Sausages, and Saltines to make Fitz's Quick Sausage and Chicken Gumbo with Saltine croûtons. So instead I made a delicate poached side of Salmon," lambasted Donald Link.

Be it resolved, Mr. Fitzmorris's Daily Dining Diary on nomenu.com will require photo documentation of any meals eaten. No longer will Fitz be able to call his meal of Doritos and Circus Peanuts as a "delightful blend of caramel ice cream with a sea salt demi-glace."

Issue #3: Mr. Fitzmorris constantly uses his bully pulpit to deride, dismiss, and destroy diners who choose to eat sans tie and jacket. Yet, have you ever seen how this guy dresses? Tabasco ties, Madras blazers, and blue denim button downs may have been fashionable at one time, but that was also before we discovered Rayon was flammable.

"Those in glass houses should not throw stones, Tom," chided Kevin Vizard, "and your fashion choices reveal a man living in an incredibly fragile abode."

Be it resolved, Mr. Fitzmorris may no longer deride diners for their choice of attire during dinner unless he gets a guest judging spot on Project Runway.

We write this on behalf of the citizenry of New Orleans who are crying out to critique you.

Love,

The Chefs, Cooks, Waiters, Bussers, Managers, Sommeliers, and Diners of New Orleans