Two people asked me today what I did for my birthday yesterday, noting that going to great places to eat is not special for us. While that's generally true because of what we do, there are definitely elevated experiences out there, even in our shrunken orbit.
The Dakota is an old family favorite that has recently moved into downtown Covington after an 18-month hiatus for a renovation of a downtown building and the move.
My singular complaint about Dakota is boredom from a menu that never changes and surroundings that never change. But if something ain’t broke…
I have finally come to agree with them, especially in this new era, where components of the original Dakota are incorporated everywhere, and the menu still hasn’t changed.
But the place is so stunning and appealing to my “atmosphere” sensibilities, it was a no-brainer to go for the first lunch in a new lunch series that will be offered each week, lunch Thursday through Saturday. This was new, and it was content, so we went, even though I knew it would be hyper-expensive. And that the burger I love will still not have made it to the new menu.
We were the first patrons in the door yesterday, arriving on time for our 11:15 reservation. We sat at our favorite table by the window and immediately ordered our tea. Because our daughter was with us at her lunch break, we also put in two apps: the housecut fries and the cornbread we got at dinner recently that she was much more enthusiastic about than I was.
These came fairly quickly. The housecut fries at Dakota have always been great, and they still are. Crisp and hot, thin and golden brown, these are dusted with salt and pepper and a healthy dose of Parmesan. They are served with an aioli that yesterday was so congealed it resembled butter. Not dippable, and very odd. It tasted fine though, so we didn’t miss a beat in devouring these fries.
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The cornbread was weird yesterday. Mary Leigh is a firm believer in cornbread as anything, including bread as you wait. It came in a cast iron skillet as it does now, and was drizzled with honey or cane syrup as it does now. She was far less enthusiastic this time, complaining after a few bites that it tasted weird. Like the skillet. Even though I never had any intention of eating it, I tried it to see what she was talking about and didn’t even swallow the bite.
A lot of other people came in while we were leisurely discussing entrees. We went with the Gulf fish Amandine which was drum, and I got the shrimp and crabmeat avocado salad, which was an interpretation of the Grande Dame classic Ravigote and Remoulade. Amped up a bit. Mary Leigh settled on Steak Frites.
The kitchen seemed to be in meltdown because the entrees arrived around 12:40, nearly 1 ½ hours after we were seated, and at least 45 minutes after the order. There were a number of tables with more than 4 people, but not such that anything like that should occur.
Tom’s Amandine was beautiful, though slightly bereft of almonds. It was more of a Beurre Blanc sauce with a smattering of almonds. And it looked pan-seared rather than fried. It sat atop a little mound of semi-crisp haricots verts. He loved this beautiful dish, and I thought it was great as well.
My own choice was not as pleasing to me. The shrimp came in a Remoulade sauce that reminded me more of a Thousand Island dressing than a classic Remoulade. The same was true of the crabmeat. It wasn’t an especially good Ravigote. The giant mound of frisée next to these seafoods was tossed in a strong vinaigrette dressing. It had a really strong vinegar taste, but I didn’t mind it. Two halves of a boiled egg completed the plate. I wouldn’t get this again, but it was very nice anyway.
Mary Leigh got the best dish on the table. It was steak frites, and it was a huge pile of more of the fries and a generous portion of beef tenderloin slices with a drizzle of roasted garlic bordelaise. The herb-roasted beef tenderloin was sliced thin and it was wonderfully tender. Mary Leigh didn’t touch the steak knife they placed before her. The beef was a perfect medium-rare, and this was a terrific plate of food.
After we paid the check Tom asked about dessert. I asked the waitress what we could get that wouldn’t come from the kitchen. She told me that we could get the pots de creme, which we got last time. When the waitress mentioned Miss Barbara’s Coconut Cake it was settled. The Coconut Cake at Dakota is made by owner Kenny Lacour’s mom, and it is legendary. She’s been doing it since Day One, and I can’t believe we haven’t had it. Today was the day.
I was surprised by its appearance. Topped with a layer of white icing and a shock of shredded white coconut, the interior crumb looked more like a poppyseed cake or a spice cake than the pale yellow cake I usually associate with coconut cake. It was plated beautifully with a dollop or two of whipped cream, some raspberries, and a streak of raspberry coulis. A mint leaf finished the look. Taken all together, this was such a delicious bite I couldn’t resist eating it, and it wasn’t chocolate.
Because the check for the cake was separate, I got to notice that it was $15, more than double the dessert prices pre-COVID. Ridiculous.
Even with such annoyances and the major one mentioned before, it was still a delightful lunch anyone would have loved for a birthday. So glad they are back.
