The Food Show is a forum for people to share opinions about food and places to eat. Sometimes those opinions don’t sync with my own, and that is fine with me. The world would be a boring place if we all thought the same.
I have recently declared Katie’s muffuletta to be the best out there, mainly because of the Gendusa round loaf used. Lately, it has been posited more than once that The Napoleon House deserves this lofty title, an opinion that started to resonate with me when we had Drew Pope on the show. Drew is in charge of all baked things at the Brennan commissary bakery in the old Sucre space by Wembley Ties. He described his unique muffuletta bread in such a way that made me curious and excited to try it.
We went to Napoleon House shortly after but had no hope of getting in. There was a line at the bar of people waiting to order takeout, and another for dining in. I did catch a glimpse of some food, including the muffuletta, which did not in any way make me consider kicking Katie’s off the Muffuletta Pedestal. But I also noticed jambalaya on a few tables and other local classics, making me further intrigued.
More votes for The Napoleon House muffuletta came in and then the place turned up in Tom's Almanac that we use every day as a blueprint for the Food Show. It is so named because a local resident fixed it up for Napoleon to move in, but he never did. Intrigued by this little tidbit of history, I moved a visit to the Napoleon House up on the urgency meter.
We finally made it one afternoon not long after that. We were able to get a table right away, out on the enclosed small patio courtyard. It was charming. I had never set foot inside this local institution, and I was so glad to be there. Each room looks exactly like you would imagine it to have looked in that turn-of-the-19th century era. The rooms are clustered like a private home, which usually annoys me in a restaurant, but this one is unique. I want to return and eat in some other areas, but starting off in the outdoor courtyard was a stroke of luck.
The waiter was very good. Competent and on top of things, he did not annoy us by assuming we were tourists. We got our food quickly and were happy to be a brief part of this well-run machine.
What I think I appreciated most was the size of the portions allowed so that one could try a lot of things and still not be wasteful or leave grotesquely full. And that is exactly what we did.
I was curious to see how a millennial dish like spinach and artichoke dip would be present in a place harkening back two centuries. Such things amuse me. We also got jambalaya, its red hue clearly indicating it to be a Creole version. And we ordered what we came for, the muffuletta, which was available in a quarter version. We also got red beans and rice. The jambalaya and red beans came in portions and prices as sides, allowing a taste of these local classics. The quarter of the muffuletta and spin dip made it plenty for two people to eat. But we didn’t stop there, getting a roast beef poor boy, and a link of boudin too.
I love the muffuletta but didn’t consider it a muffuletta. The bread, which Drew Pope explained in detail on the Food Show, reminded me almost of a pastry. It was sort of flaky. I want my muffuletta bread to be hard. Hard and crusty. I want it to crunch when I bite into it, as a contrast to the meats and cheeses inside. This was a very nice and tasty sandwich, but the hard round loaf thing, the defining characteristic of the sandwich, was missing. The bread IS the essence of the sandwich. That’s what the name means in Italian. The meats inside were top quality, and I liked this sandwich. But as muffulettas go, it wouldn’t even rank in my book because of this bread technicality.
I was pleasantly surprised by the jambalaya. I thought I could never get into a red jambalaya, but this was very good. The tomato aspect was so faint it was hardly noticeable even to me. I will return here for a full plate of this, and to soak up some more of this “real” New Orleans vibe.
The red beans were fine, sort of a hybrid between the beans clearly defined and the soupy version. It was a respectable sample with fluffy white rice and bits of assorted pork and pork products.
Speaking of pork products, one of the biggest curiosities in these menu items was the boudin. Geordie Brower makes all the “forcemeats” at the Commissary, a peculiar little place run by the next Gen Brennans from the Dick Brennan lineage. Both Sarah and Richard, (Dickie’s kids,) and a few of Lauren’s kids have pooled talents to create a limited menu restaurant and commissary items for Brennan restaurants. Sarah and Richard bring to the table a lot of experience out of town. Sarah acquired her considerable baking skills in San Francisco at Tartine, a fabulous bakery, and Richard worked out of the country. Lauren’s eldest child Geordie Brower gave up a career in investments to come back to the family biz. He makes, and smokes, among other things, the best andouille I have ever had. One or another of his younger siblings is sometimes part of this operation.
Maybe the expectations thing enters the picture here, but I was mildly disappointed in this Boudin link. It tended to be mushy inside, and I prefer a definition of rice in boudin. Otherwise, it was great, with that nice snap in the skin. It was served with a honey mustard sauce. I liked this presentation on a small wooden cutting board with a not-at-all-fresh pile of greens, and three slices stacked of French bread.
Without a doubt, the most interesting thing about this meal was the outlier item, the millennial spin dip, which tended more toward a soup. What made it so interesting to me was that the bread it was served in was perfect for the muffuletta. A round and dense real muffuletta bread was toasted to perfection and hollowed out, making way for the “dip.” This was a delicious plate of food, and I brought the bread home to eat for breakfast, Wonderful for mopping up egg yolks. I will get this again. I can't imagine the purpose of the toasted pita bread on this plate. Who wouldn't use the bread as a dipper? Pita chips are so common, and this housemade bread was special.
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The only real disappointment in this meal was the roast beef poor boy, which was ordinary bread and ordinary roast beef, but skimpy to boot. There just wasn’t nearly the proper amount of meat on this sandwich, it was served sadly on a plate with a pickle spear.
This was a wonderful experience and I’m ashamed it was my first here. This is the sort of thing that makes New Orleans special. We will be back, and soon.
