Delmonico (Original)
Lee Circle Area: 1300 St. Charles Avenue
1895-1998
For the most part, the restaurants in this book don't include the ones that have clear-cut old and new eras in their histories. All restaurants that have been around for many decades are quite different now from what they once were. Some came into their current selves though a long evolution. Galatoire's, Pascal's Manale, and even Commander's Palace are examples of that. A few went through a revolution, such as the one at Arnaud's when Archie Casbarian bought the place from Count Arnaud's daughter and thoroughly renovated it. Still, it kept most of the old dishes, adding new ones through the years.
I'm making an exception for the old Delmonico. When Emeril Lagasse bought, renovated, and reopened it in 1998, he changed both the menu and the decor dramatically. The restaurant's before and after can't really be compared. And the old one is very much extinct. So here it is.
Delmonico was founded by Anthony Commander, with the help of his brother Emile--the man who, a decade before, opened Commander's Palace. Anthony named it for Delmonico's in New York City, considered by most historians the first grand restaurant in America. The New York Delmonico's was so influential that when other would-be restaurateurs copied its style, they often went ahead and took the name, too. "Delmonico" came close to becoming the generic term for what came to be known as a restaurant.
The Commanders ran a much less grand restaurant than the New York namesake, serving sandwiches and plate lunches in modest surroundings at low prices. But Delmonico's location in what was considered a cultured part of town demanded more from it. Particularly after Anthony LaFranca bought Delmonico in 1911, a series of renovations and additions made it a restaurant as formal as any other restaurant in New Orleans at the time.
Delmonico was at its peak when LaFranca's daughters Angie Brown and Rose Dietrich took over in the 1950s. Its stretch of St. Charles Avenue was chic, full of clothing shops and other restaurants, an easy streetcar ride from Uptown and the Downtown both.
The restaurants's culinary style was thoroughly Creole, and it had many specialties. Most of those seem homestyle now, but that's how every Creole restaurant cooked back then. The turtle soup was one of the best; until the end, it was not uncommon to find actual turtle bones in the bowl. Delmonico's stewed chicken with brown gravy and rice, its eggplant casserole, its grilled veal liver with bacon, and its stuffed trout all set the local standards. Even its house salad was distinguished. It was a collection of greens and poached vegetables (carrots, cauliflower, and broccoli), all held in a sort of bowl made from a big iceberg lettuce leaf.
Delmonico was as well known for its pricing as for the goodness of its food. A review I wrote in 1977 shows six oysters Bienville for $3.75; turtle soup for $2; trout Leonard (with a seafood dressing) for $6.75. Lunches could be had for under $5. Yet the place was so elegant (if in an old-fashioned way) that most people dressed up to go there.
The two sisters presided over their father's restaurant with a graciousness that brings a tear of nostalgia to my eye now. One or the other of them (but usually both) were always there, and all their customers loved them. Miss Angie and Miss Rose (that's what everybody called them, even customers much older than they were) always seemed to be on the verge of expiring with delight that you came in to dine with them.
The kitchen staff at Delmonico had astonishing longevity. In the 1990s, Miss Angie and Miss Rose allowed me to hold a series of charity dinners in their dining rooms, for which I cooked with their regular staff. The younger of the two main cooks was Jitterbug; he was 78. Leonard was 84. They moved slowly but with such efficiency that they always able to kept up with what was really quite a large restaurant. Meanwhile, they maintained one of the cleanest kitchens I ever saw.
The neighborhood had changed a lot by the time Delmonico celebrated its century anniversary. Business was way off, and that scourge of successful restaurants--the aging of their longtime regular customers--was keeping a lot of younger new customers away. Then Emeril--who was at the peak of his popularity--came along with an offer. Miss Angie and Miss Rose were thrilled with Emeril and what he wanted to do with their restaurant, and very happy to sell it to him.
As if this writing, both sisters are still alive and active. I see them in restaurants often. They look exactly the same, and are still smiling all the time.
