The Sunday before Mardi Gras offered an opportunity to drop in to Emeril’s Brasserie at Caesar’s to see what I have been reading about. My grandniece Claire DeRoche was the queen of Okeanos and I took the opportunity to brush with Mardi Gras royalty by watching the toast from Gallier Hall. Things have changed a bit since I last paid attention. Now there are boxes for the king and queen and all the other boxes belong to the city council members.
The king and queen’s family and guests share a box at the far end, and the bleachers beyond. Gallier Hall is a nice place with large rooms set up for various things. One was a bar and the one across from it a sort of cafeteria offering hamburgers and hot dogs and jambalaya and red beans and rice, bagged chips and candy bars. Surprisingly, drinks were free. I paid $9 for the most ordinary boxed jambalaya that wasn’t even worth a picture. I was told this came from City Hall.
The wristband giving me entry was only good for one parade, so not long after the queen passed, I left when the boom box reverberations became too much. The car was safely parked so I walked the few blocks to Caesar’s. Once inside, the walk to the restaurant was almost as long as to the casino. It was nearly empty mid-afternoon, and the first sight was a large table with food from breakfast on every plate still sitting there, as though the Rapture came through. The same scene of the same table was there as my last sight an hour later. Incredible.
The hostess seated me at a table for two, and minutes later seated a couple right next to me, with empty tables everywhere. We all thought this was amusing, and as happens with such coziness, we wound up dining together.
There wasn’t a lot on the menu that I wanted, but I was mainly there to try the Tarte Flambé which I had read about. It was brunch only, and for some reason I didn’t feel like my usual American breakfast, so I inquired about the burger and the chicken sandwich. The dinner entrees look better so I’ll return for that, but I got the Tarte Flambé and a bowl of gumbo. I didn’t get the burger because I was planning to drop in at Bobby Flay’s Burger as well. I did inquire about the frites. Had they been housecut I might have gotten the burger. The waiter didn’t know if they were fresh or frozen, so when he returned to tell me they were frozen, I remarked, “Unbelievable.” Some guy from the kitchen was passing by and overheard my remark, parroting me, “Unbelievable.” Once I got past my wonder about maintaining the reputation, I realized that this was a casino and people were not focusing on food. Still, if that is the only Emeril meal they have…
Such negative thoughts were quickly brushed aside by the arrival of the perfect specimen of Flammkuchen, better known as Tarte Flambée. I’m not usually a fan of copious wilted onions, but this pie of Gruyère, onions and bacon lardons was sublime. The crust was impossibly flaky and light and buttery. Outstanding! The lardons were terrific too, because lardons aren’t always. These were cooked exactly right and had the proper meat ratio, along with an ideal salt component. The onions were just a mild note. I was so crazy about this that I offered a slice to my close next door neighbors.
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I was glad we were such tight companions because I got to see their crawfish pasta which I didn’t order because I thought it would be skimpy. Next time. We cross-pollinated again with the soups. They each got an onion soup until my gumbo came. They asked me about this gumbo business and when I explained it, one of them changed to gumbo. I thought it was okay but certainly not the best I’ve had. I warned them it was quite spicy, but they liked it.
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When I tried to order the boundin I was told they were out. This was enough for a mid-afternoon lunch. We bid goodbye to each other and I went over to Bobby Flay’s burgers. When this chain first arrived on the scene we had it in DC. It was much better then. But the packaging is much better now.
The burger had that pre-formed perfect circle thing going. The fries were frozen which I don’t remember from the DC visit. And I didn’t have anything but the classic All-American burger with the Bobby sauce.
It was a hot tasty burger, which works for airports or casinos, but I keep wondering about big names like this doing ordinary food. I don’t feel that way about Wolfgang Puck.
As much as I hate the idea of casino dining, I have to go back to have dinner at the Brasserie, and to try Nina Compton’s place. Casino or no, still the big guns, right?
