Off the Map: Feeling Crabby in NOLA

Creole Bread Pudding Souffle -- Commander's Palace, New Orleans, LA

Commander's Palace

For our final evening in the Big Easy, Vodka and Whiskey Sour set out for Commander's Palace, arguably the most "classic" (and famous) of New Orleans restaurants. 

And Also the Most Turquoise

As we had just heard on our afternoon walking tour of the Garden District, Commander's Palace is constantly praised for not only their food, but for their level of service.

Hence the Three Waiters Gathered Around a Table at Any Given Time

Let's just say this is going to be an interesting evening.

Let the Wining and Dining Begin... and the Whining

Things start out innocently enough: We are greeted by a genial gentlemen at the front desk, and then led through the maze of the restaurant: through the kitchen, across a patio, and finally to our table... which is directly next to red door brandished with the lettering EMERGENCY EXIT.

It's Like They Know We're Going to Be Trouble

The hostess runs off to find Whiskey Sour a black napkin to match her dress, while Vodka turns all of her attention to the cocktail menu. 

Priorities, People

Before she can blurt out, "TWO SAZERACS, AND STAT," our waiter descends upon us, and he is, to put it mildly, "a lot." He sways in place while speaking at full volume about the assortment of ordering options available to us (a la carte, three-course, seven course, twenty-eight course -- who knows, Vodka just wants a cocktail).

Let's Go, This New Orleans Night Isn't Getting Any Longer

While we await our booze, we settle on the gumbo and filet (Vodka) and the crawfish soup and shrimp (Whiskey Sour), plus Claire Robinson's Best Thing I Ever Ate NEW ORLEANS dish, the creole bread pudding souffle, for dessert.

Notably, We Are Not Getting the Dessert That Requires ACTUAL FIRE

After ordering, we sip our sazeracs and begin what will turn out to be quite the foreshadowing conversation on how ridiculous things tend to happen to us, both separately and when we are together. As we are regaling one another with past examples of such shenanigans, two servers approach and place a soup bowl before each of us. Then, with a flourish, they produce tin cups full of our piping-hot soups, and pour them into their respective bowls.

All Good, Nothing to See Here OH WAIT

Sorry, let me rephrase: Whiskey Sour's server pours her soup into the bowl; in contrast, Vodka's pours her gumbo ONTO VODKA.

Unfortunately, Photographic Evidence Was Not Captured, Save for the Dribble on the Rim

Instead of executing the swirling technique of his counterpart, Vodka's server merely DUMPS the gumbo in the direction of the bowl, causing one large piece of crab to splash over the side and land, with a great deal of accompanying drizzle, on Vodka's lap. 

Perhaps the Crab Was Making a Run for the Emergency Exit

So startled by his gaffe that he presumably loses all muscle control, the server then drops the tin cup INTO the gumbo, causing another tidal wave of soup to hit the table cloth.

We Really and Truly Could Not Make This Stuff Up

At this point, two things happen: Vodka and Whiskey Sour begin laughing hysterically, and the servers RUN AWAY.

They leave!

Moments later, as giggling-induced tears slide out the corners of our eyes, a manager appears and immediately begins profusely apologizing for the blunder, explaining that "Marvin" has only been a server for two days and is so embarrassed by what happened. She offers to pay for any needed dry cleaning, and we, still in good humor, laugh off the incident as another example of our collective ridiculousness come to life.

More on This Circumstance Later

After she leaves, we see that garlic bread has somehow made it to our table ("I didn't notice this appearing." "They snuck it in while you were being attacked.") 

A Small Consolation After the Soup Monsoon

The bread is tasty enough -- it's garlic bread, after all, and fairly difficult to screw up. Similarly, our soups are good, but rather beside the point at this juncture (and Vodka is confused as to why her gumbo doesn't feature rice, unless Marvin dumped that somewhere else in the dining room.)

Our 57th New Orleans Loaf of Bread

A different waiter approaches and, pointing to Vodka's empty sazerac glass, asks if she'd care for a glass of wine.

"I'd care for a Tide pen," she quips under her breath, while settling for a glass of rose. 

Thankfully, Marvin Does Not Serve Our Entrees

It's important to know that throughout these proceedings, a portion of our general cheeriness is stemming from the fact that we are downright certain our bill is about to be discounted. After all, Vodka got doused in gumbo at a place that we have been told repeatedly is "renowned for their service" -- they're at least going to throw in this glass of rose for free.

Or at the Very Least, a Tide Pen

Therefore, we remain in fine spirits through our entrees, which are okay, but not overwhelmingly stellar. Vodka ends up leaving half of her filet behind, and not only because this is our fourth meal of the day. 

Just Not That Into It

Now, it is finally time for the main event: the bread pudding souffle that is apparently such an ordeal that customers are required to order it at the beginning of their meals so that the kitchen has ample time to prepare it.

Ordeal in a Ramekin

The bread pudding souffle arrives, and a new server cracks the surface and pours in a portion of the accompanying sauce.

It Seems Marvin's Pouring Privileges Have Been Revoked for the Evening

We dig in our spoons eagerly and wait for the magic to hit our taste buds.

And we keep right on waiting.

Any Day Now, the Majesty Will Hit

The souffle is, well, it is not great. It's not even remotely good. The bread pudding portion itself has very little flavor, while the accompanying sauce reeks, both in taste and in smell, of alcohol. Like, of straight, rubbing alcohol. It is off-putting to say the least.

From Now On, Keep the Booze in Our Cocktail Glasses, Thanks

There are also unidentifiable crunchy bits throughout the concoction, or at least Vodka finds one.

"Does it have pecans?"

"What, there's nothing crunchy."

"I got something crunchy."

"Maybe you lost a tooth."

Talk About a Rough Night at Commander's Palace

We are unimpressed by the souffle but not hostile about it. No, the hostility does not strike until we receive our bill, and find that nothing -- NOTHING -- has been comped. Not a cocktail, not the dessert, NOT EVEN THE GUMBO THAT GOT POURED ON VODKA'S LAP.

WHAT IS THIS INJUSTICE?

Renowned for your service indeed, Commander's Palace!

Not wishing to end our final hours in New Orleans engaged in an epic battle, Vodka sets her mouth into a firm line but keeps it closed, and we pay the bill without (public) complaint. Overall, for us, Commander's Palace had the distinct honor of feeling like a restaurant that is trying too hard with too little results. But our time in the Big Easy is dwindling and we don't want to waste it away belaboring the place's faults.

There Is Only One Solution to This Problem, and Its Name is Gnocchi

So instead, we set off for a return trip to Restaurant August, where the gnocchi is scrumptious, the desserts are free, and no one is throwing gumbo at us. And once we dive back into the pasta whose crab mercifully remains in its bowl, all is once again right in the world of New Orleans.

Commander's Palace Creole Bread Pudding Souffle: 2 stars

Off the Map: The Muffletta That Divided a Nation

Muffaletta -- Johnny's Po Boys, New Orleans, LA

Johnny's Po Boys

The one thing you need to know about the muffaletta is that Ginger hates it.

HATES. IT.

During her own trip to New Orleans many moons ago, she stumbled upon Johnny's Po Boys and dutifully ordered the sandwich, recommended by Scott Conant on the NEW ORLEANS episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate. Needless to say, it did not go well.

The Restaurant That Launched a Thousand Olive-Based Grievances

Not only did Ginger complain about it at the time, but she has spent the subsequent years rehashing what a waste of time and calories the "monstrosity" (her word) was. Naturally, for all of these reasons, Vodka is DYING to try it, just to see what Ginger has been bellyaching about all this time.

Preparing to Be Horrified

 And guys? The muffaletta is delicious. 

Beginning to Question the Trustworthiness of Ginger's Tastebuds

Stumbling into Johnny's Po Boys for the day's second breakfast, Vodka and Whiskey Sour find the place bustling with a mostly local, mostly male contingent. When we place our order for one muffaletta, we are confronted with the baffling question: toasted or cold cuts? Ummmm. Which one will not result in the version that left Ginger ranting and raving for a decade?

Because We Want That One

Our cashier recommends the toasted option, and we settle against the wall to wait, taking note of the beverage display, where alcohol is being sold directly next to the orange juice.

We Love a Place That Serves Breakfast Booze

Just like our friends at Restaurant August, Johnny's Po Boys kindly splits our sandwich in half and gives us each our own plate. Thankfully, we only ordered one, as the muffaletta is enormous. 

Good Thing This Is Today's Last Planned Breakfast...

Stacked high with various deli meats of the salami and ham varieties, it is enclosed between two giant pieces of circular sesame bread. Melted cheese oozes out the sides, holding all the components together, while an olive salad peeks out between the layers.

And More Often Than Not, Falls Out the Sides

Diving in for our first bites, we are understandably skeptical. Based on our shoddy memories, we believe the main component that Ginger was railing against were the olives, and granted, one does need to enjoy olives in order to like this sandwich. However, Vodka is far from an olive connoisseur (she mostly likes them just in her martinis), but she is not offended by them in this capacity. 

Olives Best Served Stirred, Not Shaken

At first, we are impressed by the muffaletta mostly because of how much we expected to hate it. But after we later wind up at the bitter end of a multi-hour boat cruise, cold and starving, Vodka wishes she had packed the remainder of her sandwich to go, thus proving it to be even more pleasing after some time away.

Makes for a Perfect Breakfast and/or Midnight Snack

Of course, that opinion stands in stark contrast to Ginger's, where distance has only made her muffaletta-hating heart more hostile. Which maybe proves that all culinary delights are in the eyes, and the tastebuds, of the beholder.

Johnny's Po Boys's Muffaletta: 4 stars

Off the Map: Worst Case Scenario -- We End Up with Multiple Donuts

Beignets and Chicory Coffee -- Cafe Beignet, New Orleans, LA

Cafe Beignet

Before arriving in New Orleans, if asked how many famous cafes there are in the French Quarter who are specifically known for their beignets, Vodka an Whiskey Sour would have answered "one": Cafe du Monde. 

Point Us in the Direction of the Fried Dough

In fact, even after researching the NEW ORLEANS Best Thing I Ever Ate locales and discovering that Alton Brown recommended a cafe serving beignets and chicory coffee, and even after writing the name of said cafe on the itinerary, it still does not dawn on us that we are going anywhere other than Cafe du Monde.

Seven Minutes Into Our First Full Day in New Orleans, and Naturally, We Are Confused

We are not. We are going to a location called Cafe Beignet.

Well, Fancy Seeing You Here

Our confusion is only heightened when Ginger sends a decree to Vodka with the recommendation to "preserve ample time for consuming beignets at Cafe Beaumont." Beaumont?! How many cafes does this place have?

So Many Donuts, So Little Time

As we are walking out of our hotel en route to Cafe Whatever, Vodka is frantically googling to see which of the 97 beignet options we are actually supposed to be eating. ("Worst case scenario," Whiskey Sour pipes up in the midst of this, "we end up with multiple donuts.")

And Also Multiple Breakfast Cocktails

Finding that our itinerary was right all along, we head off to Cafe Beignet at 7:45am, as we have been led to believe they open at 8:00am. When we arrive, we find the place already packed, meaning that for the 2.5 hours we have been awake twiddling our thumbs (thank you, time change), we could have been eating donuts.

Such a Wasted Pastry-Based Opportunity

Thankfully, we are still able to snag a table as we await our delivery of three beignets and one chicory coffee. As Whiskey Sour notes, the place is "not one for dishware," as the cafe is awash in disposable products, most laden with powdered sugar. 

BYOP = Bring Your Own Plate

Thankfully, our beignets arrive within minutes, and we dive in with the ravenous hunger of people who hadn't downed multiple bowls of gnocchi mere hours before.

We Enjoy Dough in All Forms

And these beignets, they are quite good.

The Second-Best Kind of Cheersing

Not as sweet as we had been expecting (in a very good way), they have an excellent texture: doughy but not heavy, and fried to perfection. The cake itself is buttery by sight, and even with the onslaught of sugar, the whole affair is surprisingly light. 

Good Thing, Because This Is Only Our FIRST Scheduled Breakfast of the Day

At first, just because the beignets didn't produce the same immediate gut reaction that the gnocchi had, we're tempted to give them 4 stars, figuring that should we return to New Orleans, we'd want to try one of the other cafe's varieties instead. But after seeing (albeit not tasting) Cafe du Monde's donuts, we're persuaded to think that Cafe Beignet's really might be preferable. And plus, we find ourselves thinking about them multiple times throughout the coming days, bemoaning the fact that we hadn't stashed away an order for later.

Always Take Coffee, Booze, and Donuts To Go

For better or worse, Vodka's only previous beignet experience was in the Port Orleans hotel of Disney World, and for obvious reasons, Cafe Beignet's blows the theme park version out of the fryer. They are especially great when cut with the bitterness of the cup of coffee, and as Whiskey Sour finds upon dousing her face with a handful of the leftover sugar, the beignets truly are good to the last crumb.

And The Coffee Good to the Last Drop

Perhaps proving that any day that begins with a fistful of donuts really is the best case scenario come to life.

Cafe Beignet's Beignets and Chicory Coffee: 5 stars*

*Certifiable Best Thing We Ever Ate