I first discovered Tujague's in the 1970's. I was walking across the UNO campus with a friend, en route to one hamburger or another. But we both were developing an interest in restaurants. On this occasion, we were intrigued about what Richard Collin said about Tujague's. Collin was a history professor at UNO, the author of the New Orleans Underground Gourmet restaurant reviews and my mentor. As Chris and I walked across the campus, Chris read Collin's descriptions of Tujague's boiled beef brisket and the dinner that came with it. All this pushed our button, so we set our sights on the old restaurant.
The brisket at Tujague's was as good as we had heard. But even better was all the rest of the nightly table d'hote dinner. The restaurant was designed to slake the appetites of businessmen after their hard-working day. These businessmen were most involved in shipping from the docks across the street along the French Market. New Orleans, of course, was and remains a port. The people at its center were at work in the wee hours, and went home at midday.
The dinner that Tujague's had for such customers was a hearty, many-course dinner that changed every day. It went something like this, inclusive of all this:
Shrimp remoulade, made with the red remoulade that was almost unique to Tujague's.
Soup du jour, sometimes made with gumbo but more likely to have been made of the scraps from entree preparation.
Salad of other scraps.
The famous brisket, served in a big cube, about two-by-two. It was close to falling apart when it arrived at the table.
Dessert of the day and coffee. The coffee was unusual-served in rocks glasses of the kind used for old-fashioned cocktails, with no handle. I have never understood that quirk, but that's how Tujague's coffee has always been served, even though the hot liquid sometimes sloshed over your hand.
On the day when Chris and our girlfriends arrived for our dinner at Tujague's, the price for everything above was around $3.25 in 1972, when I first began writing about restaurants. Most people thought this was a great deal. But it also lived up to the criticism for which Collin was famous. "It would be a bad deal if it were free," Collin said about Tujague's in one of his columns. But even he was charmed by the long (1856 to the present) experience that was Tujague's.
Another major issue concerned the service at Tujague's. Nowadays, the servers in the dining rooms have had a certain polish. But that's not the way it was in the old days. The waiters could be not just rough in their style, but downright insulting, pushing the food around. During the era of Stephen Latter, who ran Tujague's during its last forty plus years during which food, service, and environment were quite good. Ironically, by the time that happened, the Baby Boom generation in New Orleans had progressed to the kind of antique dining that Tujague's represented.
These recollections came to me after I heard the news that Tujague’s was moving up the street. And there are many more. I am not the only local with distinct memories of this iconic New Orleans institution. Mark Latter, Stephen’s son and the current steward of the legacy, insists that the move is necessary to survive. Let us hope he is right, though we can’t imagine anything else in that building, and Tujague’s anyplace else.
Tujague’s
823 Decatur
504-525-8676
Sun-Th 5-9
Friday & Saturday till 10
tujaguesrestaurant.com
I love homemade vegetable soup. My mother used to make this from time to time, and it was never often enough. (She also served us Campbell's vegetable soup, which instructed us in the differences between prepared and homemade.) I rediscovered this style of vegetable soup when I started going to old places like Tujague's, Galatoire's, and Maylie's, where they used the stock from boiling briskets to make the soup.
What gives this soup a great edge is to boil all the vegetables except the carrots (which lend a nice color to the soup) separately, not in the soup itself. That way, when you add them right before serving, they're all vivid and firm and full of flavor.
1/2 gallons brisket stock
A pound or two of boiled brisket (optional)
28-oz. can whole tomatoes, crushed by hand, with juice
small cabbage, cored and chopped coarsely onion, cut up
turnip, peeled and cut into half-inch cubes
2 lbs. carrots, cut into coins about a half-inch thick
2 lbs. red potatoes, peeled and cut into half-inch cubes
2 lbs. fresh green beans, trimmed and cut into one-inch pieces
4 ribs celery, cut into three-inch-long, narrow sticks
2 ears corn, kernels cut off the cobs
2 tsp. basil
4 tsp. thyme
2 tsp. Tabasco
2 Tbs. salt
1. Put the brisket stock into a kettle or stockpot. Add the canned tomatoes and juice, after crushing them with your fingers. Bring the stock to a light boil, then lower to a simmer. Cut the brisket (if you're including it) into large cubes, removing any interior fat. Add the meat to the stock.
2. Bring a separate stockpot three-quarters full of water to a light boil. As you cut the vegetables in the order given in the ingredient list, add them to the pot. (Some vegetables take longer to cook than others.)
3. When the potatoes and carrots are soft, strain them and add them to the brisket stock. Lower the heat to a simmer and cook for at least a half-hour
4. When ready to serve, season to taste with Tabasco and salt. Add all the vegetables and return to a light boil until everything is heated through.
Serves about eight, with lots of leftover soup for the next day.
