Culinary Road Trip

R & D: A restaurant team completed research on the highways, byways, and waterways of southern Louisiana before launching Acadiana in Washington, D.C.

We landed at 3:26pm New Orleans time, but for us it was already 4:26pm (Eastern Standard Time,) which made it minutes away from cocktail hour.  We had a good excuse to snack.  On reflection, it was more like the first course of a non-stop, week-long feast.  Awaiting us at the rental car depot was a deluxe Cadillac: just the bodacious vehicle for big guys on a big mission.  Oyster lovers that we are, we stopped at Drago’s in Metairie (20 minutes outside of New Orleans) for three dozen of their famous char-broiled oysters.  These “selects” – especially large oysters – are cooked on an open flame until they’re golden at the center and just barely black at the edges.  Their bubbling buttery creaminess, with a punch of pepper, garlic and Romano and parmesan cheese was an auspicious first taste on our culinary tour.

We only had time for a brief stop to drop our luggage before the culinary exploration began in earnest.  For these pros, three or four restaurants in a single evening is almost normal.  I think they toned down the number because of me – but not the amount of food.  For our first dinner, our leader, Chef Jeff Tunks, was anxious to see his old friend and colleague Greg Sonnier of Gabrielle’s, and get re-acquainted with his fare.  It would soon become a tradition to kick off every meal with fat salty bivalves, the oyster special of the house.  In this case, it was Oysters Gabie, topped with artichokes and pancetta; they were followed by amazingly tender and juicy mojo-marinated pork chops and a sensational roast duck.  Reluctantly, the group moved on uptown to its next stop.  It proved to be a worthwhile effort.  Upperline, in a typical New Orleans-style house whose walls are decked with local folk paintings, serves colorful dishes that are a perfect reflection of the atmosphere.  Owner Jo Ann Clevenger sent out all her specialties – cheesy and smooth cheddar grits with grillades (a local dish of seared, braised, and broiled veal that is smothered in its sauces,) sweetbreads over polenta with mushroom ragout, roast duck with garlic port and ginger peach sauce, spongy baked bread pudding with a sauce spiked with liquor du jour and toffee.

Diamond Jim Brady does New Orleans? No, just the first eight hours of a lightning-fast and oyster-intensive tour of New Orleans and the southern Louisiana bayou country staged by the owners of Passion Food Hospitality in Washington, D.C., in preparation for Acadiana, their new Louisiana seafood restaurant which opens in the now-thriving downtown area near Washington’s new convention center this month.

Partners Jeff Tunks, Gus DiMillo, and David Wizenberg, friends from previous restaurant positions in Washington, first teamed up in 1998 to start the successful DC Coast on K Street.  Tunks, executive chef of the partnership, had been at the helm of kitchens in D.C. with its proximity to the Chesapeake Bay, at the Windsor Court Hotel in New Orleans, and on the west coast at Loew’s Coronado Bay hotel in San Diego.  DC Coast was conceived as a mostly-seafood restaurant that would draw from the seafood cooking of each of these coasts.  When the partnership decided to expand in 2000, their second restaurant, TenPenh [now closed], was Asian-themed.  The trio took a three-week trip through Asia to explore menu possibilities and to look for decorative and serving items for the new restaurant.  This idea worked so well – the restaurant’s design, by D.C. designer Walter Gagliano, its structure by Forrester Construction, and the pan-Asian menu that ranged from the Philippines through China and Japan to Vietnam and Thailand were widely praised – that in preparation for opening their third restaurant, Ceiba, in 2003 with a Latin theme, they made another exploratory journey, this one through Mexico and Central and South America.

And now then they did it again for their fourth restaurant, Acadiana.  Southern Louisiana was not exactly terra incognita for the team.  Tunks had spent several years at the Windsor Court developing his taste for traditional New Orleans cuisine, and some of the New Orleans-style dishes on the menu at DC Coast, particularly the gumbo and fried oysters, are among the restaurant’s best sellers.

Tunks, DiMillo, and Wizenberg decided this trip was necessary to familiarize themselves and members of the staff with the food cultures of New Orleans and the bayou country; to look for benchmark versions of traditional southern Louisiana dishes; and to line up suppliers for the restaurant.  The plan was to take their senior staff for an intensive four days of eating in New Orleans and another three days in the bayou country west of the city, using Abbeville as a base.

Tunks organized the exploratory trip to be both deep and wide.  His mission was to research the entire range of the cooking of the area, from traditional Creole and Cajun to interpretations of traditional dishes by such talented contemporary chefs as John Besh at August (whose “BLT” or buster crab, lettuce, and tomato and aioli on pain perdu, circular layers of French bread steeped in egg and milk batter, is a popular favorite) and Donald Link at Herbsaint (who serves his shrimp with green chile grits cakes and tasso cream sauce).  But more than just sampling, Tunks emphasized, “We’re trying to find our personal standards for Louisiana dishes, then bring them to DC, interpreted by us.

This left us not a spare moment as we took in about 20 restaurants in four days in New Orleans, and another 10 or so in three days in the bayou country.  The whirlwind schedule enabled the group to compare fried green tomatoes with shrimp rémoulade at Upperline and Uglesich’s; shrimp po’ boys from Casamento’s, which makes its own bread, the traditional French – crusty exterior and fluffy white on the inside, with those of Uglesich’s and Johnny’s; muffaletta, the classic New Orleans sandwich piled with layers of Genoa salami, ham, provolone and tangy olive salad, from Central Grocery, where they originated in 1906, and the Napoleon House, the only place they are served warm; roast beef po’ boys, “fully dressed” and dripping with natural juices, lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, mayonnaise, hot sauce, and ketchup, from Parkway Deli and Mother’s; gumbo at Upperline, Mr. B’s Bistro, and Liuzza’s near the race track, which gives New Orleans cooking an Italian spin, and where we quenched our thirst with icy fish bowl mugs-full of beer.  Also at Mr. B’s, we sampled the famous New Orleans barbequed shrimp, dripping with buttery Worcestershire sauce that gets mopped up with plenty of French bread; at Pascal’s Manale, the barbequed shrimp is served right on the bread as a savory po’ boy.  Lucky for beverage manager Scott Clime, he got to wash down these savory samples by testing Sazeracs, arguably the first cocktail created in the United States, at the Sazerac Room at the Fairmont Hotel (known to locals as The Roosevelt Hotel,) at Pascal’s Manale, Galatoire’s, and Herbsaint; and bourbon- or brandy-spiked milk punches at both Galatoire’s and Commander’s Palace, two fine old-school New Orleans landmarks.  Such an immersion in New Orleans cooking would take weeks on a pedestrian three-meal-a-day schedule.

In Abbeville and the bayou country, the pace was less structured but no less intense.  It was here that the name “Acadiana” hit home, in swamps surrounded by ancient oaks dripping with Spanish moss; flat-bottomed pirogues, or Cajun fishing boats, silently plying the bountiful waters at dawn.  We were hosted by Janice Bourgeois Macomber, “Aunt Boo” as she is adoringly referred, a true local with a molasses-thick accent and the disarming habit of giving all of us nicknames, as she did her own children.  Nor was she one to be intimidated by cooking for a mere group of professional chefs, as she gamely undertook our education in down-home Cajun cooking.  All of us were staying at Aunt Boo’s fish camp, just across the Intracoastal Canal from Abbeville, a modest and comfortable escape accessible only by boat.  As soon as we were settled in, she effortlessly produced a Cajun feast, introducing authentic ingredients and demonstrating with unapologetic certainty the correct way to do things: fat-rich pork cracklings, delicate boudin sausages, catfish court-bouillon, turtle sauce piquante, wild duck and spicy andouille gumbo, crawfish bisque.  The chefs chopped and fetched while she produced one dish after another from her stove, her refrigerator, and her freezer.  By midnight, silence fell over the camp as the gang rested soundly from the activity of the day, and the rich dishes and Maker’s Marks that night.  Bonne nuit!

Early sunrise and airboats humming over the wetlands kept anyone from sleeping in the next day.  Whoever said everything in Louisiana moves at a slow pace?  We had lots more eating to do, and the restaurant regimen began again.  Oysters, an outrageous $8.25 a dozen in New Orleans, were $4.50 in Abbeville.  Dupuy’s Oyster Shop in Abbeville lived up to its name with oysters in every variety: on the half shell, broiled, and fried.  For a break in the oyster parade, we also tried fried alligator bites, crabcakes dense with jumbo lumps of sweet succulent meat served with a homemade cream sauce that we all wished could be bottled, and a gumbo chock-full-of-seafood.  Crawfish were in season, and so a crawfish “snack” at the Guiding Star near Avery Island, home of Tabasco Sauce, was in order.  Here the crawfish are boiled with the pepper mash left over after the Tabasco sauce is bottled – a spicy treat that left our mouths somewhere between tingling and burning but definitely wanting more.  Being from Louisiana, myself, my preference is to have all my boiled crustaceans this way, or with a seasoned liquid crab boil, rather than the Maryland-style sprinkle of Old Bay.  The pepper soaks right into the meat, heightening the flavor of every bite.  The table that afternoon at Guiding Star epitomized a bountiful afternoon in rural Louisiana: a sea of beer bottles and mountains of crawfish shells, each bigger than the next.  At Black’s in Abbeville, there were more spicy crawfish, more oversized oysters, more nutty brown gumbo.  At Café des Amis in Breaux Bridge, owner Dickie Breaux, former politico, brought out the house specialty – crawfish corn bread; turtle soup; the best okra ever, smothered with hot peppers and a little tasso; crawfish pie; and a wonderful ginger-molasses cake for dessert.  Destroying one of the myths of Cajun cooking, Breaux insisted, “The only thing you’ll find a tomato in is the salad.

A major part of the battle of reproducing authentic southern Louisiana taste, Tunks realizes, is having authentic Louisiana products.  He spent a good deal of the time (what little was left over from eating, that is) scouting sources for Acadiana.  That research extended as far as the six of us – and not small, either – riding in a Volkswagen-sized flat boat, trawling the crawfish beds and helping captain Jean Pierre to fill his sacks for the day.  Picture that! Following authentic local tradition, all meals begin with good French bread, and so Tunks arranged for Leidenheimer Baking Company, the oldest such establishment in New Orleans, to ship theirs frozen to D.C. on a weekly basis.  He visited P & J Oyster Company in New Orleans, the first family-owned business to supply oysters in New Orleans for most of the upper-end restaurants in the city.  He called on Abita Brewing Company in Abita Springs, Louisiana, 45 minutes outside New Orleans because it was essential to have a Louisiana beer on tap.  While there, he was surprised to discover Abita Root Beer, as well, made with 100 percent cane sugar, and there was no question that this classic concoction would be offered, too.  He discussed mutual marketing opportunities with Paul McIlhenny at the Tabasco factory in Avery Island.  Promoting Louisiana products, Tunks understands, is one way of building a constituency among Louisianans in Washington.

Even though he knows that authenticity of taste and product is important, Tunks realizes that he’s cooking in Washington, D.C., and not in New Orleans.  Rather than just reproducing what he found on his journey, Tunks knows that he will have to adapt Louisiana dishes for the capital, as well as to fit his own style.  “A lot of this food is ‘family-style’ and even downright finger-lickin’ messy,” he says.  “People in New Orleans can laugh about the ‘12-napkin po’ boy,’ but that won’t go over in a Washington business setting.  The same with head-on shrimp.  In New Orleans, people are accustomed to them, but not in the rest of the country.”  Tunks describes Acadiana as “a Louisiana fish house,” and is careful to note that, while the restaurant’s name refers to Cajun country, it will not be a Cajun restaurant.  “The term ‘Cajun’ is too limiting,” he says, “I like to call what we’re doing ‘Modern Louisiana,’ with influences from French, Spanish, African, and Caribbean cultures, brought up-to-date."

“Our style,” agrees chef de cuisine Christopher Clime, “is more modern – not better, but different, especially in terms of presentation.” It will be an ambitious menu, highlighting Cajun country seafood classics in a contemporary fashion.  The trip was important to Clime, first of all in clearing up a few false preconceptions he’d nursed about south Louisiana cooking.  “I had expected more hard seasonings, more blackening, more spice,” he says.  “I found that it’s not just about spice but about complex ingredients and layers of flavor.” Likewise, he was surprised that not one of the gumbos they tasted was thickened and flavored with filé, a woodsy-tasting powder made from the leaf of the sassafras tree.  Instead, they were all roux-based (a browned flour-and-butter paste).  It is in the north of Louisiana where gumbos are made with filé, while those in the south begin with a roux.  This realization led Clime to another aspect of the trip’s value, which he says was affirmation.  “Our seafood gumbo we’ve been serving at DC Coast can stand up to any taste test in Louisiana, and so we’re going to bring that over to Acadiana unchanged.  It’s a Creole version, made with a dark roux, and traditional seasonings like oregano, cayenne, and a bit of tomato.” Note: Cajuns don’t use tomato – that’s the difference.

The precise composition of the crawfish étouffée to be served at Acadiana was still under discussion at press time.  The essential is crawfish tails from Louisiana, not Asian imports, despite their being cheaper.  Whether to use tomato paste, tomato purée, or, in the true Cajun style, no tomato at all, has been the constant question through multiple test batches of étouffée.  The current favorite seems to be one that can be found in south Louisiana, using fresh tomato purée, resulting in an appealing red color and a texture that will also allow the étouffée, in a slightly thicker form, to be used as the filling for crawfish pie.  Both butter and margarine (for extra richness!), celery, onions, green peppers, and garlic create the traditional flavor.

Our memorable lat stop in Abbeville before hitting the road back to what now seems a mundane world, was Richard’s Meat Market.  Tunks and the rest of the chefs devoured the fried boudin balls, made from a savory steamed mixture of medium grain rice, ground vegetables, and pulled pork that had been roasted with a mirepoix of fresh herbs.  One was enough for two to share, but for some reason, no one was sharing.  It was 9am, and the group was breakfasting in total silence, rendered speechless from the intoxicating risotto-like texture and crispy coating of the tennis-ball sized treats.  Tunks has already reduced them to a size slightly smaller than golf balls, enclosed a nugget of foie gras au torchon inside, dipped them in Egg Beaters, coated them with panko crumbs for extra crispiness, and, finally, deep fried them.  They were the hit of the evening at a recent reception he gave in honor of the owners of Uglesich’s and their new cookbook (the Egg Beater coating is a technique borrowed from Uglesich’s restaurant).  Tunks plans to serve the boudin balls as cocktail reception fare at Acadiana.

Of the classic oyster po’ boy, Tunks boasts, “We think the one we’ve developed for Acadiana is even better than any version we had in Louisiana.” Again, taking a page from Uglesich’s, he dips the plump briny oysters in Egg Beaters, then in fine cornmeal.  He uses the Leidenheimer Baking Company’s po’ boy loaf, but “dresses” the sandwich with a little Creole rémoulade sauce made of homemade mayonnaise, dry mustard, lemon juice, minced butter pickle, ketchup, and Creole seasoning of their own mixture, not a popular brand, in addition to the lettuce and tomato.

For bread service at Acadiana, a version of the customary beloved New Orleans canapé has been developed — Creole cream cheese (a slightly more tangy and airy cheese than the standard store-bought variety) on French bread crostini, topped with a dollop of house-made hot-and-sweet red pepper jelly.  The cheese is nurtured in-house for a full 36 hours to reach the right custardy texture.

Acadiana’s version of the muffaletta, is, like the étouffée, still under discussion two months ahead of opening.  The one clear must-have is the Leidenheimer muffaletta bun, which remains crisp even when saturated with the marinated olive salad, the sandwich’s distinguishing condiment.  Tunks will take his cues on its composition from the original at Central Grocery, which includes cauliflower, carrots, green olives, and oregano.  And even though in New Orleans, the group preferred the unheated muffaletta from Central Grocery to the heated version at the Napoleon House, the current favorite in the Acadiana recipe testing is heated.  “We took some liberties and toasted the sandwich on the Cuban press we have at Ceiba,” says Clime.  With a somewhat modest grin, he speculates, “Our cold cuts are probably better than theirs, which is why they stand up better to heating.  In the end, it’s all about ingredients.  Now if you don’t mind,” he shoots me a significant look over the warm muffaletta, “I’m going to sit down and polish this one off – I think we finally got it down pat.”