THE GREEN GODDESS

She says:
After the “wisdom” of numerous Yelpers led us to three unsuccessful Cajun meals in a row in New Orleans, Downtown Boy and I were ready for something different. That’s when we stumbled upon the Green Goddess, a 4-day old restaurant nestled in a cute alleyway in the middle of the French Quarter. Ironically, although the menu utterly lacked in fried seafood, alligator meat, and anything else Cajun, it turned out to be the best meal of our trip!

The eager-to-please waiter easily convinced me to try the “Spooky” blue corn crepes, purely on the intrigue of the dish’s mysterious ingredient, huitlacoche, a rare Atzec corn fungus. Considered a delicacy in Mexico, in the States we apparently throw this “corn smut” out like any old fungus. This is a huge mistake! Delicate blue corn tortillas were piled with the mushroom-like fungus and covered with a brandy ragout, all of the flavors coming together to form an earthy, complex, slightly bitter, and completely addictive dish.

He says:
The bangers and mash was a delightful twist on the English pub standard. The duck sausage was hearty and bold, and it contrasted wonderfully with the butter and citrus notes of the sweet potato mash. And to think this little gem cost the same as those wretched po boys I suffered at the two Masperos!

The best part of the meal might have been the coffee, though. I have a soft spot for coffee mixed with condensed milk, which is how my mom used to make it. Throw in some chicory root for added depth and you’ve got the perfect ending to a meal.

She says:
After such an impressive entrée, I couldn’t resist trying the strawberry crème brulee for dessert. The burnt sugar atop had been soaked in balsamic vinegar and made for a delicious coating. The crème brulee itself had an excellent strawberry flavor though the consistency was a bit too yogurt-like.

We say:
If you’re a budget traveler in New Orleans, the Green Goddess is a godsend.




The Green Goddess
307 Exchange Alley, New Orleans, LA

ACME OYSTER HOUSE

He says:
Before heading to New Orleans, I consulted several online sites seeking the best cheap eats in the city. Apparently so did every other tourist visiting the Big Easy, which explains why the line outside Acme Oyster Company stretched all the way down the block. It was a truly random crowd, as pretentious East Coasters in bug-eyed sunglasses mixed uneasily with good old boys sporting eyepatches (no joke). Ah, the price we pay for inexpensive seafood!

And in the end, was the thirty minute worth it? In a word, no. Like most eateries that cater to gullible tourists who believe everything they read on the internets, Acme Oyster Company does the bare minimum to stay in business.

My fried peace maker po-boy was a mixed bag. Half the sandwich came with fried shrimp as rubbery as pencil erasers. The fried oyster side was much better, creamy and crunchy in all the right ways. The Tabasco-infused mayo added a welcome bite, though it couldn’t raise this sandwich from mediocrity.

She says:
Eager for a traditional Creole dish, I opted for the gumbo. Bland, bland, bland. Isn’t Creole cuisine supposed to be fiery? The shrimp were all small and insipid, and the rest of the soup just tasted like indistinct brown gravy.

Downtown Boy and I also shared a side of jambalaya, which thankfully did have some kick. Isn’t it sad when a bowl of rice becomes the highlight of a meal?

We say:
You see that long line of people waiting to get inside the Acme Oyster House? Don't join them.




Acme Oyster House
724 Iberville Street, New Orleans, LA 70130
http://www.acmeoyster.com/

PIERRE MASPERO'S

She says:
After being duped into eating lunch at the non-original, name-stealing Café Maspero, we discovered the real Maspero’s around the corner… the one with the really great food for a great price.

Or did we?

The Original Pierre Maspero’s is a dark, pub-like space with brick walls and tightly-packed wooden tables. It would have been charming if we hadn’t spent our entire meal shooing flying termites off our table and, at times, ourselves. While Pierre Maspero’s can’t be blamed for termite spawning season, wiping alates from your clothes simply doesn’t make for a pleasant dining experience.

At least we were about to get some really great food at a great price. Right?

Wrong. We began with the crab cakes. Unfortunately they lacked any true crabby flavor, and the texture was also off, as the cakes fell apart with a touch of the fork.

He says:
The Cochon De Lait sounded terrific on the menu (a po boy of slow-roasted pork loin with garlic and jalapenos) but turned out terrifically boring. I didn’t detect any garlic or jalapenos; even worse, I could not taste the pork. Biting into this sandwich was like eating … nothing.

She says:
I chose one of the traditional Cajun dishes Maspero’s highlighted as a specialty, the crawfish Pierre pasta. The fettucine pasta tossed with crawfish tails and a cream sauce was a lesson in blandness. I don’t think I could prepare pasta this tasteless if I tried! When a termite finally flew straight into my food, I shrugged and let it wallow in the pasta’s misery. I’d had enough.

We say:
Maybe there’s yet another Maspero’s hidden somewhere in the French Quarter, that reclusive, fantastical gem with great food at a great price. It is not Pierre Maspero’s.




Pierre Maspero’s
440 Chartres St, New Orleans, LA 70130
http://www.pierremasperosrestaurant.com/

CAFE MASPERO

He says:
In New York City there’s a famous pizzeria called Ray’s that other lesser pizzerias nearby try to capitalize on by mimicking its name. Famous Ray’s. Original Ray’s. Famous Original Ray’s. Original Famous Ray’s. The list goes on and on. The idea is that someone – probably a tourist – looking for the real thing will stumble into your storefront instead. It’s one of the oldest tricks in the book, and dammed if we didn’t fall for it this weekend!

In New Orleans for the first time, Uptown Girl and I were seeking out a place called Pierre Maspero’s, which my coworker suggested for cheap, yummy sandwiches. Lo and behold, we walked past a sandwich shop with a similar name and a long line of tourists winding outside of it. Obviously this had to be the famous sandwich shop. Right?

Wrong. We later discovered that the real Maspero’s was around the corner. (Not that it was any better, but that’s for another review.) Café Maspero is just another overpriced tourist trap shilling inferior sandwiches for $8 a pop.

The mufulleta, a Big Easy favorite, is a dry, flat loaf piled with salami, ham, olive salad, and melted swiss. The meats were mere supermarket cold cuts, salty and bland. The single slice of cheese was barely heated through. And the olive salad was pedestrian. I could have assembled this bore-wich on my own for ¼ the price.

She says:
The vegetarian version of the mufulleta, the same sandwich without any of the meat, was probably worse. The only redeeming thing was washing down the overt saltiness of the olive salad with a sweet $1 strawberry daiquiri.

We say:
Café Maspero’s is a 2-fork eatery, but it loses a fork for stealing another restaurant’s name.




Café Maspero
601 Decatur Street
New Orleans, LA 70130