The Bon Ton Cafe was a curious place, an outlier. Its age made it technically a Grande Dame, opening as The St. James Saloon in 1877 behind Tujague’s and Antoine’s. It is unlike the other restaurants in this class, it wasn’t in the French Quarter. It wasn’t in the class of the other two for another reason as well, mainly, because the clientele of the Bon Ton tended more toward the working class. Originally a place for workers from the docks, this was a hangout for the coffee barons of New Orleans, and the people who worked for them, and for all of the other people whose fortunes were somehow tied to the port.
The place that closed last Friday on Magazine street did have one thing in common with the other Grande Dames - it was not in its original location. The Bon Ton had made several moves to the place that it occupied the longest, the space on Magazine at Natchez. This is the place I know as the Bon Ton.
In its first 75 years, , this rough and tumble establishment changed hands five times before emerging as the epitome of its name: The Bon Ton Cafe was synonymous with high society. It was further tamed by the uncle and aunt of Wayne Pierce, Alvin and Alzina. Wayne lived with Alvin and Alzina when he arrived in New Orleans for dental school. They were childless, and the restaurant passed to Wayne, who created the Alvin sauce in his uncle’s honor. Alvin’s genteel imprimatur was in place till the end on Friday, because Wayne operated the business exactly as he found it.
The clientele had evolved as well by the time I noticed the Bon Ton. There were a lot of people in the printing business who held court there. Natchez street was the hub for the newspaper business in New Orleans. All the printers of consequence were there, as were the magazines.
I have frequently referenced my tenure as the youngest editor of New Orleans Magazine. As a kid of 22, I was still learning about fine dining. My employer, Joe David III, or Joe 3, as he was called, was a regular at the Bon Ton. That’s putting it mildly - he ate there every day. I sometimes accompanied him there for meetings. This was a place I immediately recognized as my kind of place. I preferred Maylie’s, where I was a regular, but I liked this one too.
One cold night in November, Joe left early, leaving me alone with my more than usual load. I performed all I could, then closed the door and headed for home. It was a cold evening, with junk blowing around and leaving the walk home unpleasant. But on my way, I walked in front of the front door of the Bon Ton and its gas lights. It was so pleasant that I jumped right into the dining room and asked for a menu. Wayne and Debbie Pierce were always so hospitable I was swept up in the warm embrace of this place and the people in it. That experience became one of my favorite experiences in restaurants, ever. It moved me so much that every November, I re-enact the Bon Ton Gaslight Event It’s my unofficial start of winter each year.
When I brought Mary Ann for the first time, she joked about it being another of my old “farteries,” her dismissive name for all the Grande Dames. In our thirty-plus years together, she has only lately shown them the proper respect, but her visits to all of these are few and far between. I didn’t realize her secret appreciation for them until the earthquakes that rocked these local institutions happened in late 2019. First there was the Tujague’s move, then the sale of Pascal’s Manale, but this one really upset me. What will I do this November, when it’s time for the “Gaslight Moment?”
Mary Ann wanted to go to the Bon Ton last week with a renewed appreciation for its status as a local institution. She has always remarked about how warm and welcoming the place felt. It was old but still glamorous and well kept. She describes it as the very essence of what one thinks of in an old New Orleans restaurant. What made The Bon Ton unique among the Grande Dames was its refusal to change anything. The Crabmeat Au Gratin, for example, which I considered the best in town, was covered with a slice of American Cheese. The tables with their red-checkered tablecloths had a basket of crackers that would have included Melba Toast had Turnbull not stopped making them. And the waitresses are straight out of central casting MA says, wearing white with aprons and calling everyone “Dahlin.’
Wayne and Debbie have four children, all of whom have busy lives doing other things. There was some consideration about them taking it over, but time ran out. So much of life is timing, and Wayne’s chronic back problems had made any more waiting untenable.
When something has been so long in one family, parting might be sweet, but there is definitely sorrow. Giving it up is unthinkable without certain conditions. Wayne and Debbie were still mulling all this over when a diner came in one evening. Debbie saw Wayne engaged in a deep conversation, and both men walked outside. Debbie asked about the intense conversation as soon as Wayne returned to the dining room. The man had told Wayne if he ever decided to sell to please talk to him first.
The mysterious customer was Atlanta-based Jerry Greenbaum, a former Tulane grad who still loves New Orleans enough to put an outpost of his medium-sized Mid-Atlantic Steakhouse chain across the street, coincidentally in one of the Bon Ton's former spaces. This was the deal they had been waiting for, and it went quickly. The Pierces kept the Rum Ramsey for the kids, who will remain connected to the family business through an entrepreneurial venture featuring the famous Bon Ton drink. That signature cocktail has been with the restaurant since world-renown mixologist Albert Martin purchased the St. James Saloon.and renamed it the Bon Ton Cafe.
With the closure imminent, we had to eat there one last time, so we went on Wednesday. Mary Ann kept mentioning how good it felt to be there. Just so warm. What it means to be in New Orleans. And this time she was charmed by the food. The house salad dressing always did catch her notice, but this time she got the recipe, which is also posted on the site today.. And she was intrigued by the famous Alvin dishes, though she got skittish when it was explained to her that it was fried seafood with a brown bouillion base with mushrooms on top. She passed on the Alvin anything and the Crabmeat Au Gratin, settling on a fried soft shell crab. I had crawfish bisque. One of the many Bon Ton distinctions was crawfish, which they sold long before anyone else had it in restaurants around town. Naturally, the heads are stuffed here, when everyone else has moved on to a fried boulette. I also had the catfish bites platter, a generous portion of fried catfish bites surrounding a pink and sweet remoulade.
Mary Ann left wondering why she waited so long to fall in love with this place, and then decided we should return the last day. She knew there would be no argument from me on this. After the show, we met Dominic Massa from Channel 4 and were seated at a front table where I have had many meals. Tonight would be the last, but it was celebratory rather than maudlin. A poignant moment textured the festive mood when MA looked up to see Debbie consoling a busgirl who had been with them many years and had a bit of a weepy spell.
Our table was feeling good, as were the countless others in large family parties, people for whom this place is intertwined in their family story for generations. MA was swooning at all this. We got her attention long enough to order Crabmeat Au Gratin. Dominic got the same large bowl of crawfish bisque with the stuffed heads, and I got a ribeye steak. Mary Ann decided if she was ever going to taste the famous Alvin dish, it had to be now. She ordered Oysters Alvin. I got boiled potatoes and they got Brussels sprouts in the cafeteria-style side dishes. The steak was fantastic - cooked perfectly, and of excellent quality. This was a hit. Everyone at the table had enough to make my portion manageable. Even MA didn’t mind its rareness. And the Oysters Alvin were great. She shared them with everyone as well, and the opinion was shared by all. The base was definitely brown bouillion base, and it did seem counterintuitive for fried seafood, but this and the seasoned rice in the middle was delicious.
Antoine’s has its happy hour and drag brunches, Tujague’s its cool sister restaurants, Galatoire’s has Phillip Lopez, while Arnaud’s and Broussard ‘s have elegantly updated. But The Bon Ton is now frozen in our memories, going out having changed absolutely nothing. And that’s what made it so special.
Six months from now, or thereabouts, the three-story building will reopen as a restaurant. New Owner Jerry Greenbaum is sensitive to the history of the Bon Ton but has been tight-lipped about his plans. MA wants the poles painted downstairs, the bathroom updated, and the carpet changed. Period. I have only one request, ...that he leave the gaslights.
