In a place so steeped in its own culture, so traditional, so provincial as New Orleans, it’s hilarious that the place that singularly represents the New Orleans Uptown bistro dining scene is owned by someone from Iowa.
Brad Hollingsworth purchased Clancy’s, a little bistro deep in a neighborhood in 1987. It had been open four years. Perhaps it was what we know Clancy’s to be from the start, but the affable Brad is Clancy’s.
The restaurant arrived on the dining scene at the height of what Tom calls the Contemporary Creole period, a revolution in dining, centered Uptown. The restaurants embracing this culinary renaissance focused on fresh ingredients with an updated spin on the classics. Thirty-something Baby Boomers flocked to this scene, exploring wines, meeting friends, and savoring the polished food turned out by skilled and creative chefs.
But Clancy’s found its way deep into the heart of all these diners, and those thirty-something Boomers now bring their kids and grandkids there. That is the scene every night at Clancy’s, just as it was when we arrived there recently.
Sitting on the corner of two quiet streets deep Uptown, Clancy’s is a beacon of warmth from a block away. It illuminates the dark quiet and radiates a buzz that extends into the night air. Seriously.
We arrived to see one of our favorite restaurateurs/waiters stepping outside. Patrick, who with his two brothers owned Squeal Barbecue 8-10 years ago, now enjoys the social aspect of the restaurant world without the headaches. We loved him then and love him now, and it was great to see him that night. Unfortunately, he wasn’t our server.
The server we did have that night proved a theory Tom often espoused which annoyed me: if you do not order drinks or wine with a meal, you will get minimal service. The waiter will automatically assume you to be a poor tipper and treat you that way.
As someone who hates the taste of alcohol, I am sad about this. I refuse to order a drink just so a server will pay more attention to our table. But I did get a chance to see that those who drink have more fun.
Clancy’s is the very epitome of what a dining experience should be: tables full of people, ordering rounds of drinks and bottles of wine, course after course arriving amid laughter and happy chatter, savoring and sharing delicious food.
We sat near two large tables in the front dining room. One was multi-generational, the other a group of friends. Our waiter was kept quite busy with these two tables, and I enjoyed watching the fun.
I also proved another Tom-trusim that night: I order the wrong things. Clancy’s menu is full of the great hits from the aforementioned Contemporary Creole era - Veal chops, and veal served every imaginable way. Sweetbreads, etc. All things I don’t eat, although I do love sweetbreads (my only reliable credential as a true gourmet.)
These were the things that I saw on the menu. I didn’t give enough attention to the Crabmeat Ravigote or the Shrimp Remoulade, two classics that to me constitute the perfect New Orleans meal. I could have had a wonderful dinner from the appetizer menu.
We did get crabmeat gnocchi. This was delicious. The sauce was irresistible, the gnocchi tender and plump (definitely not a given around town,) the crabmeat generous, and the mushrooms sprinkled about in the right proportions. This was a rich and satisfying starter, so much so I could have stopped there. But this was Clancy’s and we don’t get to go here very much.
Tom ordered a turtle soup that was the most distinctive version of this that I have observed. I also don’t eat turtle soup, but I have watched him consume more than his share of these. Here was a glorious, thick, and creamy but redder- than-usual turtle soup. I could smell the cumin from where I sat, and it reminded me of chili. But it was gorgeous, and Tom was really enthusiastic about this Clancy’s turtle soup.
For an entree, Tom ordered the fish special for the evening which was a speckled trout with a three-bean salad. Tom’s favorite combo is fish and beans, so this special was an easy sell for him.
It was a generous slab of fish, lovely in presentation, lightly dusted with flour and pan-fried, with a few shrimp, miscellaneous beans, and some pickled things scattered about. Clancy's signature pea pods were one of the beans. The sauce was more like a perky vinaigrette. Tom loved this.
My own choice was more of a process of elimination. After passing through the veal dishes and double-cut pork chops, I noticed the steak and a chicken dish. I’ve been eating more chicken than ever in restaurants these days, but only because I’m seeing more classic Creole Chicken dishes, and I’m curious about them.
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This chicken dish was described as a roast chicken, and somehow I pictured it differently. I really wanted the smoked duck dish, which was served on the bone except for the breast, which was removed and sliced. Picturing that pink duck breast that I hate, I decided against this dish, even though it came with dirty rice. I chose the chicken instead of the duck and asked for a side of dirty rice. What arrived at the table was a very large Airline breast of chicken with extremely crispy skin sitting atop a pile of root vegetables cut into small cubes. There were cloves of garlic and mushrooms throughout the vegetables. At the edge of the dish was a dense brown demi-glace sauce. The chicken was cooked skillfully, with that crispy skin in contrast to the tender breast meat.
It had a polished flavor, though I wish there had been more of that rich sauce. The carrots and potatoes rounded out the dish, and it all came together deliciously. What's up with this dirty rice? It tasted of cumin as well, rather than the requisite liver and organ meats that give dirty rice its distinctive and delicious taste.
I liked this entree almost as well as Tom liked his, so there wasn’t anything wrong with what I ordered. But throughout the meal, I saw plates of things pass our table destined for our neighbors, and I found myself wishing I had more thoroughly perused the menu. The salads in particular looked sensational, and I definitely wanted another chance to have some different appetizers.
Because of these unsatisfied curiosities, we returned to Clancy’s sooner than I expected, choosing the Thursday before Mardi Gras for lunch. We were a walk-in, as usual. This time we were not as lucky as the last, because table space was simply not there. A lot of Carnival krewes were having luncheons this day, so we sat at the bar. There was great news in this, though, because Patrick was working the bar and would be our server. We are big fans of Patrick going way back, and he is such fun (in addition to his excellent service skills) that he has an improved version of a schtick Tom loves to drop on all unexpecting observers. So sitting at the bar would not be a chore, and I was actually glad to be seated there for another reason: the bar is sort of legendary here. It’s a “thing.”
When we arrived at opening time, some barstools were already taken. Patrick gestured to two at the end which was perfect for us. It left two singles randomly spaced. He welcomed us with a napkin as a tablecloth/placemat and set up a full service for each of us.
One of the reasons I wanted to return to Clancy’s was to get things on the menu I should have gotten the first time around, but the menu was dramatically different. There was only one veal dish on this menu, and the entree salads were crawfish, crabmeat ravigote, and a Cobb.
The shorter menu made it much easier to choose, and we ordered quickly. Our starter was fried eggplant, which a caller to the radio show (airs weekdays 2-4 pm 990 AM) insists is the very best in town. And I wanted the crabmeat ravigote salad, which is what I should have gotten the first night. Tom had the fried oysters with Brie, and the Trout Amandine, which Clancy’s spells Almondine.
One of the most interesting things about this place is the enormous amount of butter presented to each table with the short French bread in the white bag. It is actually half a stick on a plate. This is so shocking to me that I've even asked Brad about this practice. He said when he first moved here from Iowa, he worked at a number of places as a waiter, but LeRuth’s made the biggest impression on him. He said Warren LeRuth was very generous with his butter. He has kept up with the practice and it has become sort of a Clancy’s trademark.
We had the butter conversation when Brad was hovering over the bar waiting for a seat. Hovering is another weird Clancy’s tradition. The bar is tiny, with only the space for a person to walk through and one to hover along the wall for a seat. I had heard about this practice, but I must say I am not as enamored of it as regulars. I hate hovering, even when I am doing it. I never do it, and would never do it even when necessary. In a big busy restaurant, I try to be discreet. This tiny space does not allow for discretion, and it is intimidating knowing someone behind you is coveting the seat your butt is currently occupying.
As for the food, which is technically why we came, (though all these extraneous practices add to the Clancy’s allure) I have concluded after two meals that the Clancy’s mystique is less about the food on the plate in front of you, and more about the goings on all around you.
The fried eggplant was, as promised, delectable. Light and airy, these uniformed sticks ½” in diameter, are really light inside, crispy and greaseless on the outside, and served with an aioli that was so good I kept it to use for anything that might come up.
Tom’s oysters with Brie showcased what should be the definitive version of the dish since this restaurant is where it originated. I have, in the course of the last few years of eating every meal with Tom, witnessed a lot of oysters with Brie coming to the table. This was the least interesting of them all. First, the smell emanating from the hot Brie was offputting, and the reason was that there were huge chunks of white rind in various stages of meltedness over the crispy oysters. I’m not gaga over melted Brie as some are, so a little goes a long way. This was overly generous to the point of too much unless you are a fanatical Brie fan, as well as an unambivalent all-in rind eater. The wilted spinach component was fine. Tom must have been one of the “all-ins” because he was crazy about this.
My $34.75 crabmeat salad was a surprising disappointment. For that price, a salad, even a crabmeat salad, better be something really special, so disappointment was inevitable. It was fine, loaded with crabmeat, but needed more dressing, There was some hearts of palm slices, and a shred or two of carrot. The accompanying deviled egg was happily consumed by Tom. Overall, though, definitely not $35 exciting. I've done it now, so I don't have to do it again.
The Trout Almondine (Amandine) was good. It was a nice size, crispy, napped in a normal version of the requisite brown butter sauce, and cooked perfectly. It came with the requisite Clancy's pea pods and fingerling potatoes that were nice.
Tom enjoyed his time here so much that he wanted to savor some coffee and linger. And I wanted to try the housemade coconut pie. It was light and fluffy and very good, with creamy coconut flavors and textures as good as they should be. Not otherworldly, but good.
It was actually a fine lunch, but disappointing. Is it me, or them? Probably both. Expectations play such an oversized role in the enjoyment that it is sometimes hard to tell. This beloved New Orleans institution is celebrating 40 years this year, and Brad Hollingsworth bought it at the height of the Contemporary Creole Revolution in the late 1980s. Steve Manning was the longtime chef, who left to open Annunciation about ten years ago. The menu hasn’t changed since then, though Brad’s stepson’s execution of Manning’s recipes does not match the originals.
But it’s a sacrilege to not love Clancy’s, and so I do. There’s no need to fix it, because to its legion of fans, it ain’t broke. And it ain't broke. Maybe it's that it is now larger than life, and that expectation places too much of a burden on mere mortals to offer a life-altering experience to all who cross the threshold. I can’t quibble with success, and in this case, settled orthodoxy. So I’ll just keep these observations to myself. After this, of course.
