Restaurant New Orleans

While I had never been to Restaurant New Orleans on Fulton Street, I had met the owner one night and was taken by how personable she was. She reminded me of a slice of home. To add to that, it didn’t seem that business was going so well on the block. They agreed with me that it would be a good idea to show support.

The first impression was not good! We had funky frowns on our faces from the time we crossed the threshold. It was a ghost town! Not a single patron. With no one in sight, we slowly moved toward a table of our choice to seat ourselves. When Cathy, the owner, finally emerged from the kitchen to greet us, she ultimately revealed that there was no menu. #blankstare

She asked us what type of food we liked. We wore classic “what kind of question is that” expressions on our faces. The three of us stuttered a slight. She saved face and offered a few suggestions. My two sisters and I politely yet apprehensively shook our heads in uncertain agreement. So Cathy says, “Well, why don’t I just whip something up for you ladies?” It was more of a statement than a question. What had we gotten ourselves into?

Of course I felt foolish guilt in that Restaurant New Orleans was my bright idea. So once she disappeared behind that kitchen doors, I recommended leaving the place without word. We struggled with the idea, of course. “You go first!” “No, you.” Our plans were foiled when Cathy came out with a pitcher of ice water. Father in Heaven, that pitcher had seen better days! I promise, it looked as though Cathy herself had beat it about the kitchen floor, pissed that business had soured and this vacant restaurant was what life had become.

Ever have that friend or family member’s house that you were forced upon and always offered something to eat or drink? As a kid, I would tighten my lips away from the glass and pretend to drink. This was akin. Surely, we were about to get on up and out of Restaurant New Orleans! There was no way we were drinking from that thing.
Speaking in hushed tones, we could not decide which of us would make the first move toward freedom. We felt awful. We were the only diners there that afternoon. And there seemed no sign of anyone else coming in, seeking culinary refuge from the outs of Fulton Street.

Caught again! Cathy comes out with a basket of corn bread muffins and proceeds to run her mouth like that one aunt that you avoided at all family functions. Sigh!
But behold, it’s the same Aunt, that once listened to, you realize how entertaining and engaging she is. Besides, we were only put off because our escape plans were thwarted. Cathy was a joy. She was the same warm slice of home that I had met that chance night out. She was why we were there in the first place. But still!!! The menu (or lack thereof)… The echoes of our own whispers against the restaurant walls…. The pitcher…. The cups…. The Corn Bread Muffins!
The Corn Bread Muffins?!!!

Great food will change the mind of any fool. Food has that grand capacity to bridge cultures, nurture souls and speak words of love that never has to pass ones lips. It is apology, condolence and welcome home. Food tells story of heritage and of struggle. It is a creativity, science and exploration. Food, I believe, is a piece of heaven.

I’m certain of this because one bite down on that corn bread muffin and our funky frowns simultaneously turned upside down. We slowly relaxed against the backs of our seats and eased into conversation with Cathy when she returned wearing sweat on her brow. Before long, she disappeared yet again, into the kitchen. When she came again, a mélange of food followed. She and a boy she had secreted in the kitchen came baring the fruits of their labor: Fried corn, barbeque salmon, shrimp etouffee, pilaf, squash… There was more and everything was plentiful. Still, my sisters and I debated on who would get the last serving of everything!

The food was absolutely amazing and we felt like southern royalty. Not only did Cathy personalize a meal just for us, she navigated the front of the house and with stealth and perfection. I was impressed then but now, as a new Chef and business owner, I justly appreciate the talent that is. While it was clear that Cathy was not expecting us, or anyone else for that matter, she treated us like we too were a slice of home and that we belonged there on that day.

But back to the food:
The Salmon was cooked to perfection! I had been to a number of the more popular spots in the area. Places where I’m certain the doors were bending at the seams with Brooklynites lunching. Most, in my humble opinion, wouldn’t have the slightest knowledge of finessing a salmon as Cathy had. It was cooked tender and moist yet no sign of rare pinkness was there to be found. The barbeque sauce hugged the surface and completed the fish. The shrimp etouffee still holds the title of the best I’ve ever had! When it was finished, we greedily sopped the sauce with cornbread muffins. The fried corn had just the right amount of char and a light caramelization. The sautéed squash with onions was comparable to my Mom’s. We were blown away! To date, and with all of the indulgent food debauchery that my sisters and I gravitate to, that meal was easily the best that we have ever shared together. It was all encompassing: A Chef that genuinely cared about the food; one who spontaneously fashioned a menu specific to taste and that had an impressive understanding of the art of engaging patrons. Add to that, it was a meal shared that, for once, neither of us was responsible to produce, yet sat contentedly while partaking and delighting in each other’s and Cathy’s company.

Lesson learned: Though cliché, never judge a book by its cover. Since that year, we’ve sought restaurants familiar to what Brooklyn offered that day. From city to sisters Retreat city, we’ve indulged in some exquisite eats. Yet no experience has come close to that of Cathy and Restaurant New Orleans.

Unfortunately, Restaurant New Orleans has closed its doors on Fulton Street. I only hope that Cathy is somewhere else in this world in another kitchen, manning another dining room and inspiring!