Nostalgic dinner at Tujague's Restaurant
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When I read Susan Langenhennig’s story “Tujague's future appears uncertain following owner's death,” I was struck with the urge to lay eyes on the old place. I’m sure I wasn’t alone, so I made a video record of yesterday’s dinner visit.
Tujague’s began serving customers exactly a century before I was born – that’s a long time ago. Dining there is a Rip Van Winkle experience in reverse. There’s no menu. You pick from four five-course options that the waiter recites table side. On my visit, the choices were: filet mignon, seared veal with brandy mushroom sauce, garlic shrimp and pasta and blackened drum fish with maque choux (Cajun stewed corn). The blackened drum fish was the only entre that would have surprised Teddy Roosevelt. The Cajun blackened drum is a 1980s-vinatage newcomer.
Incidentally, you can find photos of the Miami Vice guys, Don Johnson and Philip Michael Thomas, amid the celebrity diner photos that line the walls along with the endless collection of miniature liquor bottles and old news articles. There’s no phony historical stuff to be found. When I arrived, the late afternoon sun raked across the tile floor and reflecting off the white table clothes and water pitchers. By the end of the meal, the natural illumination was augmented by tiny votive-style candles and dim amber overhead lamps. It wasn’t hard to imagine gaslight.
Like many New Orleans restaurants, Tujague’s cuisine is spicy. But there’s a difference. Instead of cayenne, Tujague’s relies on the sharp, bitter bite of mustard and horseradish in their signature shrimp remoulade and brisket sauces. History tells us that the boiled shrimp and boiled brisket are what made Tujague’s reputation before the Civil War. Every diner gets a serving of both, no matter what.
The seafood gumbo was thin and pale, more like Bouillabaisse than the darker, thicker style you see more commonly at restaurants. There was a mere sprinkling of rice, not the customary mound.
A friend recommended Tujague’s special request item, Chicken Bon Femme -- fried chicken covered with an avalanche of chopped raw garlic and parsley. The charming waiter explained that the kitchen lacks deep fryers, so the chicken has to be pan-fried and therefor can’t be mass-produced. So, though the entree is always available, they keep it on a hush-hush basis.
The meal ended with simple unadorned banana bread pudding and caramel sauce – there was no sculpted crystalized sugar tower or white chocolate confetti or vanilla foam or infusion of any sort. You get the point.
See the video: http://www.nola.com/dining/index.ssf/2013/03/nostalgic_dinner_at_tujagues_r.html
See the video: http://www.nola.com/dining/index.ssf/2013/03/nostalgic_dinner_at_tujagues_r.html
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