When I heard Holywater was opening on Conti, I wondered where that would be. It’s the building that once housed the excellent Castillo’s Mexican restaurant and the less-than-excellent Sucre. I love this building, and I love what they have done to it.
The first floor is a little smallish, and it is the oyster bar, complete with some kitschy under-the-sea touches. Upstairs is a gorgeous room, with a small balcony that seats 18-20. Naturally, I sat there on a balmy New Orleans October evening.
A first look at the menu at Holywater was disappointing. I am a big fan of Chef Alex Harrell, and I didn’t see anything that grabbed me. I am lukewarm about oysters unless they are smallish, crispy-fried, or chargrilled with curly edges (unmistakably cooked). No raw oysters for me. That was Tom’s passion.
But when I got past the caviar and oyster section, I noticed a few familiar classics I wanted to try. I started with Croquettes,
(which are becoming another ubiquitous menu item) followed by Crabmeat Maison, then BBQ shrimp. The entree I selected was fried chicken, which came with hushpuppies. I got fries thinking they were housecut, so I had to get them, right? I can’t be forever in pursuit of this menu item and not get it when I see it.
The Crabmeat Maison came first, and it was just beautiful. A slice of tomato was the base for a disc of crabmeat, which was topped with fresh herbs, including pea shoots, which are definitely having their garnish moment. The parsley and dill were so abundant I could smell herbs when it was placed before me. Underneath was a light buttermilk consommé, punctuated by pops of color from oil. The consommé underwhelmed me, but not as much as the crabmeat itself, which is what I would describe as shreds. This brings me to a question I find myself asking a lot lately: would I be willing to pay more for something I enjoyed more? A resounding yes to that. I would have been happy to pay for bigger pieces of crabmeat. I would have been delighted with a disc of intact claw crabmeat.
The BBQ shrimp came next, and while they were not the size of what I am now calling Frankenshrimp, they were too large for my taste. There were a half dozen arranged tightly in a crock with an equal number of perfect crostini. This was also a beautiful presentation. The sauce was thicker than I usually see, and it really had a bit of a kick. Despite these few minor flaws. I liked this dish.
The croquettes were a cross between arancini and boudin balls. They were Panko-crusted and deep-fried, and inside was a rice and chopped andouille combination. File was the spice in this mixture, which initially gave me pause. These came with a lifeless aioli, but the croquettes were still very good.
The fried chicken was quite a platefull, but for $30 it had better be. There was a large, weirdly half-deboned fried chicken, with a pile of blistered shishito peppers (whose moment is thankfully waning). This plate also had a hot but-not-too-hot sauce in a little tiny keg, along with ramekins of butter and pickles. The chicken had a very nice battered crust that was greaseless but not crispy. It came on a large platter with three very nice hushpuppies. These were soft inside but crunchy outside, and rather perfect in every way. I’m not usually a hushpuppy fan, but these can make me a convert.
Now, about the fries… I ordered them after asking the waiter if they were cutting them in-house. He assured me they were, but they didn’t look like housecut fries. As the self-appointed French fries inspector, I have to ask the question before ordering, because I have realized that frozen fries in seed oil are not worth the downside. Housecut fries in seed oil are now less good than frozen fries in beef tallow. But it is harder to cut potatoes than to put tallow in your fryer, though that gets a huge cheer from me. The first one tells me that you want to please your customer; the second tells me you care about your customer. (Or you’re just good at virtue signalling.) Either way, I accept. Thank you.
But the fries that turned up at the table didn’t look like housecut fries, and I’m not going to go back into the kitchen to actually inspect, so I’m going to assume that this annoying pain of a customer didn’t communicate the question well enough.
The fries had an accompanying aioli with herbal notes that were overwhelming. I knew I was familiar with the flavor but couldn’t put my finger on it. The menu said sage. This overpowering fresh herb thing was a theme throughout the meal, proving that there is such a thing as too much of a good thing.
Overall, I enjoyed this meal at Holywater quite well. Nothing on the table was brilliant, but it was all interesting, and my server was exceptional. Also, sitting on the little balcony on a beautiful October evening in New Orleans was a delight. But even with that enticement, I still thought about going into the dining room to eat. That’s how appealing it was. And coming from this committed al fresco diner, that is saying something.