I haven't had Creole food this good since the weekend that I hitched a ride to Bourbon Street from the New Orleans Police Department.
Alligator Cafe. Not necessarily a place (ok neighborhood) you'd think to stop despite the accolades on the sign out front indicating that it just might be the real deal. It is.
Not sure what this place used to be, looks like maybe a Wendy's, but it doesn't really matter because these days its serving up Cajun and Creole classics in a hole in the wall setting which takes you right back to some of the best places New Orleans has to offer.
Let's go over protocol first. Head to the counter, order, sit down, and your food will be out in ten to fifteen minutes. Don't expect this place, despite its former life, to operate like a fast food joint. It doesn't. The food is given the proper love back behind that counter, which really shows when it comes to you.
Food. I'm not a crawfish or shrimp guy, but still had a number of options to choose from here, and quickly narrowed it down to the pork chops and dirty rice (Tuesday's special), blackened alligator, oyster po-boy, chicken and andouille gumbo, muffaletta, and chicken and alligator jambalaya.
Everything sounded fantastic, smelled incredible, and looked ridiculously good, but I opted for the chicken and gator jambalaya, and I'm glad I did. The meat was tender, the flavor of of the vegetables were fresh and held their own against the Creole seasonings and tasso ham, and the rice was perfect. Topped with some of the Louisiana Gold (my second favorite Louisiana hot sauce next to Crystal) that is at every table, this meal was perfect.
I only wish that the bread served with it was authentic New Orleans, but it wasn't. Just a soft piece of what seemed like a french roll bought at Kroger, there was no crust and no joy in using it to mop up the end of the bowl. Surprising given what the bread on the muffaletta looked like, which was as authentic as it gets.
This is a great spot for lunch or dinner if you've got a cravin' for cajun. I'll be back soon for sure.
What? Oh, the ride with the cop. Yeah. Well it was 2003 and a few of us were down in New Orleans for the Final Four. On Saturday, it was good to be in the Superdome watching the semifinals, since what seemed like a tropical depression was sitting over the city. After the game, my friend John and I were lucky enough to hop into a cab right as we exited the stadium, and took it to the apartment we were staying at over by the convention center. The rain was letting up and we figured we'd have a beer or two, change into some dry clothes, and then catch a cab over to Bourbon Street to catch up with our other friends, who had a hotel over near the French Quarter. Good plan. Poor timing.
We had four Abita Turbo Dogs left in the fridge, as well as four cans of Bud Light...two sets of two still in their seagull stranglers. We cracked two of the Turbo Dogs, shoved the other two in our pockets, and like true white trash hooked those Bud Light sixers to our belts. Because you need four beers for a five minute cab ride.
Now, keep in mind it's still drizzling, a couple of hundred thousand people are in town for the games, 80,000 people just left a game, and it's dinner time. We couldn't get a cab on the phone to save our lives. I also knew that our location was just enough out of the way that we were unlikely to hail a cab out front, but it was our only option so we decided to give it a try. Out front was an off-duty New Orleans police officer making some extra money by playing security guard for the apartment complex, which means he was sitting in his patrol car in front of the place eating a sandwich. We told him what we were up to and waited fifteen minutes for a cab to drive by while we continued to call, which never happened, as I knew would be the case, and as the cop also knew and had told us.
Now, it's only about a thirty minute walk from where we were to Bourbon Street, but it requires a walk under an interstate and through a few unsavory areas, which no doubt would be trouble for two white 25 year old out of towners with beer strapped to their belts. It was after sunset, and I knew that officer would never let us walk it, and I turned and whispered to John that we were going to take a chance on a bluff. I headed back up to his window, thanked him for humoring us for a few minutes, acknowledged we were never going to get a cab, and told him it was only a couple of miles so we were going to walk it.
He rolled his eyes.
"Get in."
"Do we need to finish these beers before we get in?"
"No, you can drink them in here, just get in."
Awesome. So I saddled up shotgun, actually next to a shotgun, and John jumped in the back and found it surprising more comfortable with a beer in his hand than it had been the last time he rode back there with his hands zip-tied behind his back. So here we are, hitching a ride with a New Orleans police officer, in a New Orleans police car, to a bar. Classic. And it only got better from there. As we pulled up to Canal on whatever cross street we were coming across, we needed only to make a left and then a right to get to Bourbon Street. The light had just turned red. We were the first car at the light. But this was a police car. Yep, he flipped the lights and sirens and made that left on red, pulled up on the sidewalk on the other side of Canal and told us we were here and to have a good time. As we were in the car. With lights flashing. On the sidewalk. With a curious crowd gathering. We polished off the last of the beers we were working on, and asked our driver if he really wanted us to get out of the car in front of all those people with our beers including the empty ones we had just visibly pounded.
"I don't care what you do, but don't leave them in here."
OK.
So we thanked him, got out to a wondering crowd, turned and raised our beers to him and yelled, "THANKS FOR THE RIDE!" and headed to the bar. Ahhhhh, New Orleans....who's up for a road trip?
Summary
Atmosphere: hole in the wall, order at the counter, somewhat rough part of town, no frills inside
Food: authentic Cajun and Creole
Dog Friendly: no
When to Go: lunch, early dinner
Crowd: random, go for the food and not the crowd
What to Order for the First Timer: pick'em
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