Square Root

SPOILER ALERT: Square Root’s entire opening menu revealed, dissected.

Sixteen seats. Open kitchen. Square plate settings. Chef Philip Lopez and GM Maximilian Ortiz’s Square Root is a beautiful space inside what was once a bakery for the Irish and Italian catholic communities and was most recently a furniture store. Their first restaurant, “Root,” opened in 2011, and yes, sometimes the sequel is better than the original. The restaurant clearly takes its inspiration from the late El Bulli but at a mere fraction of the price.

Upstairs houses “Root Squared,” a bar that serves small plates and functions as an excellent waiting/pre-game area as well as a lounge for once you finish your dinner.

You have to give a credit card to hold your reservation, but the charge includes tax and tip. Beverage service is separate (with no gratuity included). Your beverage service is a pairing menu of wines, fine wines, cocktails, non-alcoholic beverages, or “mixed drinks,” which means a combo of wines and cocktails. Should you choose either wine tasting option, you end up drinking (in total) the equivalent of a bottle of wine. I settled on the mix pairing because I enjoy both wines and cocktails.

Seating is done four times a night in staggered waves. If you’re anyone but the first seating, you get to see several meals in progress. The open kitchen brings every dish to life in front of you. So you get to see a taste of things to come (the future), other diners enjoying courses you’ve already had (the past), and your own meal (the present). As an alum of an open kitchen, I am so impressed because the chef and his team are literally cooking in the middle of a circle, um, SQUARE, of diners.

I don’t usually recommend going to a restaurant the first night. Having worked service industry in several capacities, I know how many things can go wrong at the beginning. I even told a cook at one point, “I can slow down if you want to serve me and the other two [diners seated at the same time as me] all together.”

His response: “We need the practice.”

Practice makes perfect, and it’s showing this team has practiced a lot.

Guess what this is. I’ll tell you later.

The menu was ~16 courses with a variable number of pairings. (Also, all the plates and bowls are different for each course. They must have at least 50 different sets to accommodate future dishes.) Sit down and get comfortable. This recap will take a while.

The meal starts off with an unapologetic blast of flavor.  Lobster Mousse atop a “Lobster Chicarron” (like an elevated Asian prawn cracker) topped with tarragon caviar. Way more salt and flavor than I’d expect for a first dish. Definitely not a mild amuse bouche. A surprising amount of flavors, textures, and temperatures kick in motion a meal that will continue to provide those and more surprises. Pairing: Summer Shandy.

Nduja Spread on flatbread cracker is up next. Clearly a throwback to Root’s housemade sausage program. Pumpkin seeds garnish it.

The next dish is a play on “Southern Fried Chicken,” inspired by Chef Kelly English, a southern picnic, and Tennessee? Lots of great flavor and texture but I was not impressed with the surprisingly hard cracker(?) on which everything else balanced.

Oysters, Charred Bone Marrow Tartare, blood orange mignonette, buttermilk horseradish “ice.” Beautiful sight and blend of flavors and textures. Yes, I tasted the seaweed underneath the shell. Pairing: An exceptionally smooth Sake I can’t pronounce but that star sommelier Liz Dowty can.

Soup of Seared Potato, Potato Crisp, Truffle-Pickled Peaches, Smoked Caviar, and Vermouth Gelee in a creamy but light broth. This is also the first course to include a utensil! One note: More liquid would make it easier to spoon the solid components. Pairing: Carpano Bianco Vermouth. (The savory/sweet contrast is brilliant.)

Petrified Leafy Greens, toasted coriander lime spuma, pea puree, compressed cucumber, pickled seeds. A vegetarian dish? Now we’re somewhere in the east. The spuma calls to mind yogurt, and the cucumber and coriander do the rest.

PAUSE: Palate Cleanser Cocktail – Gin, hibiscus, coriander, pink peppercorn. Stop reading. Stretch. We still have a ways to go.

Tendon Two Ways: Pickled and Chicharron. Tabouleh. Radish gelee. Calabaza squash oil. Togarashi. Showing off how a protein can be insanely different based on prep. More international flavor blending. Pairing: Greek wine that especially complimented the oil.

“Faux Gras.” Umebashi? Strawberries made into an amazing (dipping-dots-like) dish. A thin marble rye crouton for texture. And yes, there is a bit of actual foie gras in it. Is anything more French than foie gras and cognac? Pairing: Dessert wine from the cognac region of France, with nice thornbush/almond notes. This cold dish and cold drink bring a rush of energy.

How they infuse their mushroom stock

Duck Breast seared in black pepper and allspice. Duck Tortellini with fennel fronds in the pasta dough. Mushroom stock and dashi infused with aromatics laboratory-style. Japan! (All things I love, by the way.) A fork, knife, and spoon. Multiple utensils! Pairing: Lambrusco

PAUSE. Intermezzo of Compressed Granny Apples and Passion Fruit Granita, microgreens, and a hint of lemon juice and zest.

Now we’re in the Mediterranean. Honey-poached Sablefish. Dates. Sunchoke. Roast chutney. More honey to finish. Pairing: Suave of Gargano-Trebbiano.

A dish inspired by Chef Lopez’s mother: Chilaquiles with sous-vide Lobster finished in butter, citrus and coriander. Lobster Mole. The meat was a tad chewy so perhaps a lean lobster, but every other component on the plate was fantastic. “When I was growing up, we couldn’t afford lobster,” he says with a smile. Pairing: Grüner Veltliner.

Roasted Pheasant Roulade, medium rare. Johnny Rock Cake. (Dehydrated) Corn Kernels? Shaved truffle. A corn velouté to finish. A bird-and-corn inspired dish. I hope next time they serve Cornish hen to complete the wordplay. Pairing: Chenin Blanc with sweet corn notes. Of course.

Wagyu Beef covered in miso and seared. Bone marrow emulsion. Iced-blanched squash. Hazelnut. Balsamic vinegar drizzle. Made for the meat lover. Served on dishes made out of burnt wood, in a Japanese method. And the wood came from Root. Back to Japan! Pairing: Green Flash West Coast IPA.

PAUSE: Now that those courses are done, the silverware is replaced with gold spoons for the desserts. Chef Lopez is a rare type who can do pastry as well.

Granny Smith Apple Sorbet. More Granny Smith apples dehydrated, powdered, and baked into meringue. On a bed of puffy grains. Tarragon. In a weird/good way, this reminded me of Apple Jacks cereal from childhood. Pairing: Basque Region Cider.

That egg picture up top? Did you guess what it was? I used to spherify ACE juice into an  “yolk,” place it in the middle of banana yogurt, sprinkle raw sugar around, brûlée the sugar, and call it a “fried egg” dessert. I thought I was clever…

Chef Lopez has upped the ante by serving an “Incredible, Edible Egg,” laid no doubt by the golden goose that gave those dessert spoons the Midas Touch. These are brought out in six-pack egg cartons. The egg is then placed atop candied almonds. Inside the egg is a cold, caramel-like toasted-egg-yolk curd. The shell is cracked in front of you, and it’s made of invert sugar (to withstand NOLA’s humidity). The “shell” is edible. The only remotely minor flaw is the one other component on top. Not sure what it was, but it was sticky and chewy and definitely not for anyone with sensitive teeth or dentures. Pairing: Valdez Amontillado Sherry.

BOOM.

Some people might balk at the price ($150 per person) but for 12-16 courses, that is a steal. A diner who’s never worked in a restaurant might think ingredients make a meal expensive. (For the record, the ingredients alone would be worth the price tag.) But it’s the time and effort that a kitchen puts into dishes that make them expensive. Every dish could have its ingredients chopped in half (size wise or variety wise) and still be delicious. If you have the money to spend on a long, leisurely dinner, this is a steal.

The excellent service is a bonus. The staff was running on adrenaline yet pleasant, making small talk with customers and learning their names. More importantly, should you have any dining restrictions, the staff will accommodate them.

Randomly the soundtrack is just as eclectic as the menu, and even the upstairs bathroom is engineered to impress. You literally cannot run out of toilet paper. If you go, you’ll see what I mean.

I was hesitant and skeptical. Square Root is an experience and, nitpicking aside, the most impressive opening I’ve ever seen a restaurant do. Easily one of the top five best fine dining meals I’ve had in New Orleans. Thanks for reading ‘til the end.

Square Root

1800 Magazine Street

New Orleans, LA 70130

504-309-7800

Tuesday – Saturday: 6:15pm to 8:45pm

BY RESERVATION ONLY

MoPho

The chef and staff of MoPho, the Southeast Asian restaurant by way of Southern Louisiana, have run the gauntlet this past week. Chef Michael Gulotta, his managing partners Jeff Gulotta and Jeffrey Bybee, and their team have been doing hundreds of covers daily since the restaurant opened on Saturday, January 11. Badass. The pace has not slowed down.

But everyone’s grateful. Clearly business is good.

Gulotta’s restaurant serves the Vietnamese classics everyone in New Orleans expects: Pho, spring rolls, bánh mì (labeled as po’boys on the menu). He’s creative with the ingredients. Beef cheeks in your pho? Check. Head cheese in your pho? Sure. His imagination shows in the “specials” in the center of the menu, bigger plates closer to his fine dining background. Regardless of dish, Gulotta’s love for local Louisiana ingredients is on every plate.

“Do you want that coursed out or whenever ready?” is a common question here. Menu items are picturesque in one of two ways: A) The classic Asian way of carbs topped with expertly sliced protein. B) The delicate, elegant constructions that somehow look effortless. Gulotta spent the last several years as the chef of Restaurant August, and he brought his perfectionism to this new place.

By the way, this is not a formal restaurant. You’ll get a sharper knife for your ribs or small spoons for your coffee or dessert, but otherwise the utensils and condiments are self-serve, right at the table. Paper towel rolls within arm’s reach. Casual fine dining at its best.
As for the staff, the chef and his crew look like war vets right now. It’s easy to imagine perhaps someone has thrown their hands up, given up, and walked out. If you can’t stand the heat… etc. Every time the door opens at least three heads turn to greet the customer, estimate how many in the party, and assess the impact this will have on service.

So here’s my take on this place, as an outsider and new fan:

DAY 1: My understanding is that lunch service was packed. I did not make it to dinner on opening night because I, like others, was reeling from the Saints playoff game and didn’t want my first experience of this restaurant to be in a drunken stupor.

DAY 2: I make it to MoPho for lunch. Like a sign from God, “1pm” is both the time of my arrival and a cocktail on the menu. It’s made of rum and chicory and egg cream, extremely reminiscent of a Vietnamese iced coffee and just as easy to drink. For lunch I settle on a simple bowl of rice and LA Blue Crab braised in fermented black bean sauce. The smell brings me back to southeast Asia. The taste confirms it. The crab is nicely cooked, lumpy and flaky. It’s sweet inside the pungent black bean sauce, highlighted with fish sauce and fresh herbs. My mother would love this. My grandmother would too. Anyone who appreciates the authentic flavors of southeast Asian seafood would. This simple bowl tells me this isn’t a restaurant whitewashing Asian cuisine. I’ve spent a good part of my life living and traveling in Southeast Asia, and MoPho reminds me of innovative, nontraditional restaurants there. No flavor compromise. Asia. Right here. With local ingredients. I am floored.

I know it’s blurry. I was excited.

DAY 6: After waiting over 45 minutes for a table, I’m back for dinner with friends: The GM of a CBD restaurant, the sommelier of a French Quarter fine dining establishment, the bartender of a garden district wine bar, and a former Bourbon Street bartender. The somm has brought wine ($10 corkage fee), and we sip through the cocktail menu while strategically attacking the food menu. The Vermillion is a mix of papaya and sparkling wine, as pretty to look at and as gentle on the palate as its name suggests. The Tamarind Sour, a rye/tamarind/honey concoction, by contrast is happily not as sour as its name suggests. The Dragon Lady is made up of dragon fruit, tequila, jalapeno, and lemongrass—It pleasantly doesn’t have the fire its name would suggest. Same goes for the Viper: vodka, sorel, ginger, and galangal. It took my bartender friend’s knowledge of liquors and my knowledge of Asian flora to decode all the ingredients, but all the cocktails are good. Don’t let the names intimidate you.

We start off with the chicken wings in lemongrass and ginger. Wings sound like a strange thing to compliment, but these are outstanding. The lemongrass and ginger have such fresh, clean flavors that it’s easy to forget the wings are deep-fried. The crispy skin gives way to a salty, sweet, strangely refreshing taste. I could eat these all day.

The spring rolls, available in shrimp sausage or pork shoulder, are what you would expect. Fermented pepper in the peanut sauce is a nice touch.

P&J Oysters are a hit too. Despite coming fried and atop housemade mayo and pickled blue cheese, they are surprisingly light (not as light as the wings) and some radish brightens their flavor and lends texture. These oysters stand out as a preparation not even remotely Asian, but they’re local and delicious nonetheless.

The Lamb Neck and Beet Green Curry is nuanced and comforting. We try to figure out what’s in the roti that makes it different. (It’s got creole cream cheese in it.) The meat is fork-tender, and the curry is full of flavor but balanced enough that people who may dislike the polarizing tastes of lamb and of curry would probably still enjoy this dish.

Photo courtesy of Chef Michael Gulotta

Pork Trotter in Crab Broth is likewise expertly cooked, a wise nod to the Asian habit of combining pork and seafood (e.g. every dumpling ever). The crab salad, Meyer lemon, and mint lighten an otherwise spicy dish that would be a mess in less capable hands.

The gulf fish, in this case a Red Snapper, comes whole and head-on, exactly as you’d see in Asia. It’s on a bed of culantro and doused with red navel orange and soy sauce. Like the spring rolls, this is classic southeast Asian fare. It comes with a welcome bowl of rice. Nothing particularly creative but still a classic executed well.

And the clams. Man, the clams. They’re from Cedar Key, braised in pepper jelly. Housemade lamb lardo, basil, and crispy shallots decorate them. Vietnamese fried bread (“beignets”) flavored with annatto in long, thin strips is ready for dipping into the broth. The barrage of other flavors doesn’t impede the clams’ sweet flavor and delicate texture. They’re decidedly our table’s favorite dish of the meal.

Photo courtesy of Chef Michael Gulotta

We’re too full to contemplate more than one dessert, so we share a Condensed Milk Cake with chicory coffee ice cream and meringues. Like a Tres Leches, it hits the spot. It’s a nice combination of not only flavors but textures and temperatures. (Is it obvious from this and that first cocktail, that both the chef and I have a passion for Vietnamese Iced Coffee?) If you know Chef Kelly Fields, I’d bet she’s proud of what Mike’s done here.

DAY 8: A sign about not parking in Burger King’s lot has been posted on the restaurant’s front door. Apparently BK is towing offending cars, so make sure not to park on their concrete.

I’m here right when the doors open, and, for the first time, catch a glimpse of Chef Mike in his new place. He’s on the phone but, upon finishing the call, walks over to say hi. We do a little catching up. How are things? How’s the family? Some industry talk about covers (over 1000 the first three days). A “thanks for coming” and a sincere appreciation that, yes, I do like the food. I make a joke about “Happy One Week Anniversary.” The conversation is breathless and brief. He has to get back to the kitchen.

The best chefs don’t just know they’re talented; they want to prove it every time.

In 15 minutes, the place goes from empty to full. Every seat and stool taken.

Mike is surprisingly calm, like he’s stopped attempting to control the chaos and has made his peace with it. Accepted it. This approach has clearly trickled down to his staff. The bartenders talk about the two beers that have been 86ed and how last night left them without any lemons prepped. They are working to repair their bar from last night’s service.

This day I attack a Hot Sausage Bánh Mì and a Beef Pho. Both excellent. I understand why they call the bánh mì a “po’boy.” It’s because it’s larger than any regular bánh mì would be. The pho is what you expect but with great options for meat: Oxtail, cheek, tendon, flank, red pepper braised tripe, rib-eye. I settle on an oxtail/tendon/tripe combo. I do taste my friend’s vegetarian pho (tofu, mushroom, shallot, mustard greens). It’s surprisingly satisfying.

I can’t pronounce the battered shrimp, but we order them anyway. They remind me of tempura but salty with fish sauce and sweet with finely sliced pickled mango. I want rice.

MoPho’s chocolate pudding comes in a wide, relatively shallow dish. On top of it are caramelized bananas, sesame sorbet, and a chocolate-sesame tuile. Nice and rich but mercifully not too sweet.

DAY 9: My friends must think I’m insane, but I’m a completist when it comes to two things: Video game sub-missions — Yes, I need every heart in Zelda — and menus for bars and restaurants that I like.

I’m here with a new friend today. We pour Vietnamese Iced Coffee (of course) and select items to share. The Blue Crab Salad is delicate and looks kinda like something you’d see at August. The shaved Vietnamese sausage on it is a genius way to deal with an ingredient that has lots of flavor but a slightly annoying texture. A puree of acorn squash and ginger rounds out the dish really nicely.

Vietnamese coffee almost ready to pour

We order Grilled Jumbo Shrimp on Vermicelli. The server forgets to add the fried egg to the order, but the sizable shrimp and spiced pork pate (perhaps with a hint of fermented shrimp paste?) deliver more than enough flavor. The noodles aren’t actually vermicelli. They’re the wider, flatter rice noodles. They’re also about 10 seconds overcooked, but that doesn’t stop us from finishing them and the grilled, wild green onion.

Grilled short ribs from Two Run Farms, seasoned with lime and black pepper, are fork-tender. Even the cartilage around the bones isn’t a challenge. The beef is cut into long strips. Pure Asia. No slouching cube of boneless short rib like some restaurants. The rapini alongside is good, roasted in cast iron. We wish there more of it. Something crispy garnishes the plate (puffed rice?) and adds a nice, subtle texture.

Photo courtesy of Chef Michael Gulotta

Dessert is black rice pudding balls, the offspring of congee and arancini. They look pretty on their rectangular plate, but a bowl would be more effective since they are round, roll, and aren’t glued down to the plate with some kind of syrup. But they’re good. The plating isn’t ideal, but the dessert is drizzled in honey and comes with candied orange and a Satsuma/Meyer-Lemon Sorbet.

As we leave, I hear a manager say “It’s like Navy Seal Hell Week.”

The bartender takes a break from 86ing more beers and wines. With half a smile, he notes that this is the “slowest lunch service so far.” The place is still packed. It’s just past 1pm, and the line at the door is only eight people deep right now.

DAY 10: Flying solo at dinner. The hostess asks if I mind the end of the bar. Not at all. The bartenders are a graceful tornado: Mixing drinks, serving drinks, explaining the menu. The brunette with the big hair and nice smile… She takes my order.

Jeff Gulotta and Jeffrey Bybee bring a pho bowl and a rice bowl to the couple next to me. It’s not theirs. The Jeffs ask if the order is mine. I tell them I’d gladly eat it and pay for it. But it isn’t mine. They swiftly retreat into the kitchen.

My order for Pork Belly over vermicelli arrives. Grilled greens and delicate pork skins on the side. The egg is not forgotten. A pork spring roll sneaks into my bowl. Fine by me. The noodles still aren’t vermicelli, but they’re cooked perfectly this time. Paper-thin candied orange sweetens, freshens, and seals the deal.

Photo courtesy of Chef Michael Gulotta

One of my pet peeves is when all of a restaurant’s dishes taste the same. Not the case here. This dish is listed right under my original crab bowl, but the flavor profile is wholly different. It’s the perfect Asian-American breakfast: Bacon, egg, rice, fruit. Redefined.

As I walk away I hear the brunette bartender sigh and 86 the Chardonnay. People are still waiting at the door. The staff is still powering through but looking to the horizon. The restaurant is closed tomorrow, and they’re determined to finish strong.

DAY 11: The staff of MoPho rests.

Last Thoughts:
Strongest opening I’ve seen a restaurant do. It’s rare to have this many customers and still execute this well. I will be back.

MoPho

514 City Park Avenue

New Orleans, LA 70119

504-482-6845

Wednesday – Sunday: 11am – 10pm

Tuesday: Closed

Bayona

Tara and I have this tradition—not going to count the years—that each takes the other out to a celebratory meal for their birthday.  We usually do dinners, but she decided for this birthday she wanted a long, leisurely lunch with a couple of drinks. Naturally. We settled on Chef Susan Spicer’s Bayona, initially considering a NOLA Goes Pink meal but changed our mind when we realized a) they didn’t serve it for lunch, b) it was only two courses, and c) the dishes are built for health and nutrition. Not that there’s anything wrong with any of those things, but we were looking for something a bit different. Besides, in her words: “Who says you can’t have healthy boobs by eating ducks and butter?”

We stuck with Bayona and realized when we got there that their Saturday lunch is a light lunch made up of three small-plate courses. We remedied this by ordering an extra three plates to share for Our Invisible Friend. (Let’s call her “Jacque.”) Our server was impressed by this improvisation: “Nice. She eats. A real woman.”

Naturally we took advantage of Bayona’s cocktail menu and wine list. (I’m not going to bore you with a list of all we drank.) But since the meal was a celebration, we started with sparkling wine. 2010 Domaine de la Manarine Cotes du Rhone. Lady’s choice.

The rosiest rosé I’ve ever seen.

The cream of garlic soup is one of the mainstays on the Bayona menu. Creamy and rich but mostly garlicky. So if you’re a garlic lover or a lover of “cream of” soups, definitely get a cup.

The Bayona Salad is their house salad. Nothing particularly exciting, just proof that a simple bowl of mixed greens, good cheese (Parmigiana Reggiano or Great Hill Blue), and vinaigrette can be all you need.

One conspicuous absence from the menu was sadly the veal sweetbreads. They’re Chef Spicer’s signature, usually available appetizer-size and entrée-size. On the bright side, now I have an excuse to go back. I did try the fried rabbit liver salad, which came with beets both red and yellow, arugula, and balsamic vinaigrette. Tara and I were musing over the fact that most people who don’t like certain ingredients (beets, brussel sprouts, etc) have just never had them properly prepared.

An aside on Chef Spicer: She was at the restaurant, and we admire how she’s the kind of chef who genuinely seems to love being in her kitchen. Many chefs of her caliber and success tend to end up enjoying their celebrity with TV and other public appearances. (There is nothing wrong with this.) But she was also at Mondo when we dined there last month. When she does enter her dining room, it always seems to be in an inconspicuous “I’m checking to see that service is going well.” There’s no grand entrance or look-at-me, tell-me-how-awesome-my-food-is fanfare. Anyway, it’s awesome that her passion for cooking overrides the perks and benefits of being a successful chef. She is a very cool lady.

Smoked salmon, like actual meaty smoky salmon, not the lox you buy in a deli, potato pancakes, horseradish sour cream, and choucroute made an appearance also.

A skewer of swordfish and scallop on a bed of lentils and a drizzle of pesto was really good. It’s the kind of dish where I like all ingredients involved, so I’m inherently biased. It’s nice to see lentils not cooked into mush. One of the two chunks of swordfish was a bit dry, but that’s usually a risk in cooking the fish. The other was cooked perfectly, as was the scallop, seared on the outside and medium rare inside.

For obvious reasons, I’m particular with pasta but I did enjoy the fettucine with shrimp, andouille, roast tomato and garlic cream sauce. That combination of ingredients is obviously not a traditional Italian one, but the al dente of the pasta and the homemade andouille showed a mastery of Italian technique with the same use of local ingredients that Italians pride themselves on.

And the main reason Tara and I chose lunch at Bayona: Smoked duck and peanut-cashew butter with hot pepper jelly.

Speaking of ingredients I love…

 The dish is a play on childhood favorite peanut butter and jelly with our favorite protein mixed in. It’s usually served as a sandwich but was baked into a puff pastry this time. Very rich. Full of protein. It was garnished with celery leaves, a clever reminder of another grade school memory: Celery sticks dipped in peanut butter. I wouldn’t have minded a little acid, but if you’re going to be decadent, why not? We had one each, figuring sharing might be a problem.

Finish strong…

For dessert we had chocolate profiteroles, pear slices, caramel ice cream, and butter crunch toffee. This was just a great mix of different levels of sweetness and textures. The photo looks a hot mess – my fault – but I promise the dish looked and tasted delicious in reality.

430 Dauphine St.
New Orleans LA 70112
504.525.4455
Lunch: Wednesday – Saturday
Dinner: Monday – Saturday
http://www.bayona.com

Mr. John’s Steak House

I think you can tell a lot about a restaurant by their bread. (Is it fresh? Warm? Baked in-house?) Mr. John’s serves garlic bread, the rare kind that’s more garlicky than buttery. These two ingredients go well with steak and are often applied too generously… but not here. This restraint set the tone for my meal.

Garlic and butter are the usual accompaniments to snails, but I had an appetizer that put the escargot with mushrooms, shallots, brandy, and (red) wine. The menu said they were served “in a puff pastry,” but the actual dish had four times the amount of escargot sitting next to the puff pastry as well. Entrée size appetizer. I’ve eaten snails many times in the ubiquitous French style and also with black beans in Chinese dim sum. Now that I’ve tried it in another preparation (and in such generous quantity) I think I understand the taste of the snail itself and I’m not sure it’s my favorite protein. That being said, the dish was very good. There was no effort to conceal the true flavor the snail, just to accompany it.

As for the main course, Mr. John’s signature is the New York Strip, but I ordered the Ribeye because it’s my favorite cut and I’m on a casual quest to find the best one in New Orleans. Salt. Coarse ground black pepper. Diced parsley. Butter, sizzling the first few minutes of the meal. Despite how hot the serving plate was, the steak was perfectly medium rare (unlike some competitors I won’t name). No sauce. Unapologetically rich. I had my ‘08 Caposaldo Chianti to help me along the way.

I almost went with the universal creamed spinach but had heard good things about the broccoli au gratin—five large florets baked under a heap of cheddar, the bits on the rim browned and crispy. Any kid who used to play with their food and submerge their broccoli trees in a lava eruption of cheese sauce would like this. It was more of a fat than a vegetable, but again wine is for cutting through that.

I forced myself to complete the meal with dessert, and I wasn’t expecting a grand finish. But both the waiters independently pushed the tiramisu, and this was one of the best ones I’ve had outside of Italy. The emphasis was correctly on the mascarpone (not cream cheese) rather than the espresso (not regular coffee) soaked ladyfingers. Yet the dish was not heavy. Don’t get me wrong, the serving was the size of a Rubik’s Cube, but an actual spoonful was surprisingly light. You could taste the cocoa, dusted on top into the shape of a fleur de lis, and also the liquor.

All in all a great meal and better than competitors at similar price. Some restaurants overcompensate for lackluster taste with huge portions, but quality and quantity are both served up at Mr. John’s.

2111 St. Charles Avenue

New Orleans, LA 70130

504-679-7697

Dinner Tuesday – Saturday

Lunch on Friday

http://www.mrjohnssteakhouse.com