Thursday, January 12, 2012.
First Taste Of The Chophouse.
The Marys were in town for some reason. (It seems to me that Mary Leigh's Tulane classes should have resumed by now, but they won't until next week.) They were interested in dinner. ML seems to have recovered from her overload of steak during last week's vacation trip, and was eager to try the Chophouse.
The owner of the Chophouse, Jerry Greenbaum, is a Tulane alumnus with a warm feeling for New Orleans. After opening twenty-two restaurants around the Southeast (his headquarters are in Charleston), he thought it was time to open one here. He took over the handsome old premises that most recently was Cuvee (and least recently the original location of the Bon Ton). There he opened a premium steak place.
He told me of these plans months before he opened in a series of e-mails. I wrote back wondering why he thought a steakhouse was a good idea for a neighborhood which, within a three-block radius, already had Ruth's Chris, Morton's, and the Besh Steakhouse. It didn't seem like a natural to me. But then I have never owned a restaurant--let alone twenty-three of them--and am not especially adept at business.
Jerry told me his place would have a dynamic difference that would put him ahead of the competitors. I asked him to state what that difference would be in a few words. He said I'd recognize it the first time I ate there.
That was about six months ago. I've heard mostly good things about the place since then. One of the best things was that Robert Bruce--formerly chef of Smith and Wollensky here--is running the kitchen. Time to check it out.
The room is and always has been handsome. It's a very old building, a fact that can be discerned from the skewed lines of the two main brick walls. It's been a restaurant since at least 1925. Its history glows with memories of the old Board of Trade, visible across the back alley through the rear windows. The Board of Trade was the center for coffee importation in the days when New Orleans was the world's leading coffee port.
The Chophouse is just a block away from the radio station. I arrived first, giving me time for a Manhattan. It was made with Sazerac rye--a big step up from the standard. The pour was generous and the price was attractive: eight bucks. The bartender left out the cherry. That's no big deal, but it's traditional, and I noticed the lack. The waiter, who had already proved that he was attentive, articulate, and possessed of a great attitude, took care of that little thing right away.
While sipping and waiting, I read a note from Jerry inside the menu. It told of the tremendous recent increases in the price of Prime beef, which is all they use at the Chophouse. He said it was caused by large jumps in corn and soybean prices. He laid out his plight. To make up for the higher wholesale prices, should he a) lower the quality standard of his beef; b) make the portions smaller; or c) raise prices?
The clear implication was that it made no sense to do anything but c). However, an obvious d) came to mind: keep the prices the same and bite the bullet on lower profits until the market adjusts. I knew about these rising wholesale prices, and a casual survey of steakhouses seemed to indicate that most of them were going with d), at least for now.
The Marys arrived, and immediately liked the look and aroma of the restaurant. I could have ordered for them: the shrimp appetizer for Mary Ann, the Caesar salad for Mary Leigh. The redfish amandine for Mary Ann, the small filet mignon for Mary Leigh. For me, another Caesar and the sixteen-ounce sirloin strip. The waiter gave us advice and joked around, and it was all very pleasant.
Then the food arrived. The Caesar salads were overdressed with a thick, heavy, acidic dressing. That weighed the greens down to the point of wilting. The eating was borderline unpleasant.
Mary Ann's three big shrimp--looking like small lobster tails--smelled like a million bucks with their buttery, herbal, sprinkle. She took one bite and said, "There's something funny about these shrimp." She finished the first one and left the other two. But MA is a shrimp fanatic. I tasted one and had the same reaction. Where are these shrimp from? we asked the waiter. He checked with the kitchen. Texas, he reported back. Shrimp are coming from Texas into the home of the best shrimp in the world? But wait. Texas and Louisiana shrimp are the same species. These didn't even look the same as what we're used to. How far down the Texas coast was these shrimps' source? A red light came on.
The $47 sirloin strip was very well trimmed, in the long, slender cut I prefer. As Jerry had told me in one of his e-mails, the standard of steak cookery here is Pittsburgh style. Also known as Indian style and "black and blue." The steaks are seared to a very dark brown, crackly crust, with the interior juicy. That is, in fact, my favorite way to have a steak. But it's tricky. Only one time in three do restaurants get it right, in my experience. They usually under-crust it. This one had the opposite problem. It was charred too much, giving a bitter background flavor. It was also more than a shade overcooked in the center. Even so, it was clearly a first-class piece of beef, and I enjoyed eating it until Mary Ann jabbed it out of my plate to put into her omnipresent go-box. "You shouldn't be eating a steak that big," she said.
Mary Ann was less enthusiastic about putting the redfish into the go-box. "Taste this and tell me you don't think it's tilapia," she said. It had the texture and lack of flavor liked by people who like tilapia. But I never guess at fish species. The waiter assured us it was real redfish and nothing but. I take him at his word. So chalk this up to ordering fish in a steakhouse.
Creamed spinach, hash browned potatoes, and a baked potato for the table. Nothing special here.
Mary Leigh, who ordered her $39 filet mignon medium, registered the same char-bitterness that I did, but she was happy. By then she had been charmed by Chef Robert Bruce, who discovered my presence about halfway through the meal. Robert's history in the restaurant business goes back to his legendary step-grandfather Willie Maylie, who operated Maylie's Restaurant on Poydras and O'Keefe for over fifty years. Robert worked with the Brennans in several venues before going to Smith and Wollensky (coincidence: that steakhouse was in Maylie's old building).
"I like this place," Robert said. "It's dinner only, five nights a week. I can spend time with my kids, which most chefs can't." The Marys always love hearing about kids whose parents spend a lot of time with them.
We were puzzled by the desserts. The chocolate cake cost $25. "It's big enough to feed a table of twelve," said the waiter. We had a slice of key lime pie instead. Good enough, big enough to split among the three of us.
Before tip, $207.05. Again I say, d).
Chophouse. CBD: 322 Magazine St. 504-522-7902.
It's over three years since a day was missed in the Dining Diary. To browse through all of the entries since 2008, go here.
