The Art of Lunch

Just another Friday at Galatoire's

It's well before noon on a Friday, and already the lunchtime roar is picking up steam. Galatoire's mirrored dining room is packed with a mixed crowd -- suit-clad businessmen, well-turned mavens fresh from the hairdresser, older couples out for a weekly lunch date, maybe a few tourists wandering in from nearby hotels. Clutches of professional women, dressed to the nines and shod with impossibly pointy "Sex in the City" slingbacks, toast an early girl's night out with mimosa-filled flutes. Mother-daughter pairs mill about the room, apparently chatting with old family friends. Each conversation contributes to the growing din, and when traditional lunchtime arrives, the room resonates with a dull yet appealing roar.

Located mere steps from Bourbon's high octane barrooms and infamous "adult entertainment venues," Galatoire's is a stately, linen-clad landmark in this food-obsessed city. In operation since 1905, Galatoire's is one of the city's best "old line" Creole establishments -- elegant restaurants serving the rich French-influenced specialties unique to the Crescent City.

The Old Line -- including institutions such as Antoine's, Galatoire's, Brennan's and Arnaud's -- are workaday guardians of living Creole tradition. In the kitchens of the Old Line, culinary fashions and trends go largely unnoticed and menus read pretty much the same way they did when the restaurants opened -- which for many of these places is over 100 years. The emphasis here is on continuity, the reassurance of ritual and sinfully rich seafood.

And it's this sense of tradition that makes lunch at Galatoire's one of the city's definitive dining experiences.

As a cultural experience, a midday meal at Galatoire's is equal parts sustenance and show business unfolding at a leisurely European pace. A routine luncheon at Galatoire's can take three or four hours, especially on Fridays, when old New Orleans society packs in for an end-of-week celebration. "Table turns" are rare, and once you settle in  for your first cocktail, you're pretty much there for the day.

As you cross the dining room's threshold, the restaurant's tuxedo-clad waitstaff set a relaxed tone that's another Galatoire's hallmark. Waiters exude a hospitable authority that's at once reassuring and instantly accessible; suitably formal and comfortably familial. But each staff member is also known for their personal style. John XXXX is always quick with a  joke and lightning-fast wink, while Renard Levique, whose towering figure would be welcome on the Saints' defensive line, seems to have poetic descriptions for every dish on the encyclopedic menu.

In a service industry dominated by college-age servers, Galatoire's takes an appropriately old-school approach to its "front-of the house" staff by putting a premium on experience and continuity. It's not unusual for waiters to build and forty-year careers and loyal, multi-generational followings at Galatoire's.

Experience is a advantage bonus for waitstaff, considering that the five-page bill of fare contains well over 100 options and reads like a textbook's table of contents. No intricate dish descriptions, no photographs for visual context -- just a a long list of dish names and connected to prices by long dotted lines.

Diners unfamiliar with New Orleans seafood, sauces and specialties can easily get lost in the cascading list of a-la-carte offerings. Even regulars who can distinguish between creamy Shrimp Maison and spicy Shrimp Remoulade may get confused when choosing between trouts Marguery and Meuniere. In these cases, your waiter is there to guide you through the extensive, often baffling menu.

"Let me tell you about the menu today," a smiling Renard begins, "but first, may I start you off with a cocktail?"

Strong cocktails sipped with lunch are an integral part of the Galatoire's ritual. They're a flavorful way to slough off the cares of the work week and start the weekend a few hours ahead of the happy hour crowd. Classic whiskey drinks like the Sazerac and Old Fashioned are house specialties and free-flowing crowd pleasers. Many of the tables sport unusual condiment setups -- bottles of Tabasco and Worcestershire sauce, bowls full of lemon wedges alongside the usual salt and pepper shakers-- specifically designed for fine-tuning a Bloody Mary's delicate flavors.

Two Sazeracs and an order of soufflé potatoes, a standard pre-appetizer order, arrives within minutes. The whisper-light potatoes resemble two perfectly browned potato chips welded together at the seams, then inflated like a balloon. The first few puffs are still filled with fragrant steam and beg to be dipped in an accompanying bowl of thick, terragon-laced béarnaise sauce. A sweet sip of whiskey cuts the sauce's richness while leaving a hint of clove on the tongue.

"Everything all right?" Renard asks, voice raised a bit above the growing clamor. "Now let me say first that we're out of the veal chop today, but everything else is on the menu." He launches into a short list of recommendations with the rapid theatrical patter of a Shakespearean auctioneer.

"For appetizers I'd suggest the Crabmeat Maison -- white lump crabmeat with creole mustard, mayonnaise, capers and lemon. You can get that alone or in a Gouté -- which includes shrimp remoulade and shrimp maison. Of course there are Oysters Rockefeller with spinach and oysters en brochette fried up with bacon and served with a lightlemonbuttersauce." Common phrases -- lumpcrabmeat, toppedwithhollandaise, pansautéedinbutter -- collapse into single words for a convenient performance shorthand. Every four dishes or so, Renard pauses for questions and a quick breath.

After a brief overview and some sage advice -- "Get the Crabmeat Yvonne on the pompano." -- Renard picks his way back to the kitchen through a room that's grown more raucous as various tables work through their cocktail courses. Politicos move from martinis to wine while the elegant mavens take turns holding court and ratcheting up their conversational volume. The younger women replace mimosas with champagne and soft chatter with uproarious laughs that briefly pierce the roar. By the time the appetizers arrive, our table might as well be courtside at an NBA playoff game.

Our appetizer sampler, the Galatoire Grand Gouté, lives up to its rough  translation of the  "big taste." Thin tomato slices separate generous dollops of three rich seafood salads with a skewer of decadent oysters en brochette nestled neatly on a triangle of white toast. The salads are uniformly creamy and flavorful, with different degrees of richness and spice. The tomato-based Remoulade packs a restrained kick of horseradish, while the Crabmeat Maison blends plays rich lump crabmeat against coarse-grained Creole mustard against salty capers. The single row of quick-fried oysters are perfectly cooked -- thin, crunchy crust covering a salty, nearly liquid center -- and enhanced with morsels of thick bacon and a "healthy" drizzle of lemon butter. 

From the core ingredients to the traditional "mother sauces" that dominate the menu, any meal at Galatoire's is a study in absolute richness. Each bite has a silky, addictive texture that diners crave and cardiologists fear. Entrees such as the seemingly healthy Seafood Stuffed Eggplant turn out to be composed mainly of crabmeat, with just enough vegetable to bind everything together. An order of delicate grilled pompano can be sublime on its own, but topped with Crabmeat Yvonne (crabmeat, mushrooms and tender artichoke bottoms sautéed in butter), the dish becomes a work of art.

Somehow, even after a floodtide of melted butter and impossibly Creole specialties, there's always room for one more morsel of bread, one more taste from your neighbor's plate, or even one more course.

Sensing clean plates and a slowing of pace, Renard checks in for post-entrée plans. "Dessert or coffee, gentlemen?" Coffee, maybe, but dessert always seems to be both out of the question and a core requirement. The only sure-fire way to create a little more room in a crowded gullet is with a flaming demi-tasse of Café Brulot. (see sidebar). A few sips of the hot brandied coffee, and there's just enough room for a butter-soaked square of bread pudding or a perfectly spiced slice of sweet potato cheesecake, drizzled (of course) with a smooth caramel sauce.

Surrendering to half-eaten desserts and unsipped dregs of still-flammable coffee,  there's nothing to do but sit back and watch the room. After three hours, the crowd seems to be just hitting its stride. The "Sex in the City" crowd moves on to another bottle and a new round of stories, the politicians drum up support between courses, and the mavens daintily dissecting plates of soft-shelled crab. And above it all, the continuous rumble that gives Galatoire's its own brand of rowdy sophistication.

"This is one of the most elegant places in New Orleans," Renard says, catching the roar during a lull, "and it's because of the clientele."

If any of them could hear over the roar, they'd probably appreciate the compliment.

SIDEBAR

BLAZING BREW

The perfect capper to any Old Line meal is a tiny cup of Café Brulot -- a Creole specialty that qualifies as both cocktail and after-dinner performance art.

Café Brulot is a classic coffee drink consisting of brandy sweetened with a little orange liqueur and spiced with cinnamon stick, cloves, and citrus peel. A silver bowl of the aromatic concoction is touched off with a match and explodes in a controlled ball of liquid blue flame. Flavors intensify as  the alcohol burns off, and your fearless server nimbly ladles flames a foot in the air for added flourish. After a few minutes of pyrotechnic performance, the flames are extinguished with a stream of hot chicory-laced coffee, then served in innocuous demi-tasse cups. The resulting after-dinner drink is potent, aromatic, and soothing to a butter-filled stomach.

Firey Finales

The perfect capper to any Galatoire's meal should, of course, involve one of two tableside trademarks -- Café Brulot or Crepes Suzette -- both of which involve skillful preparation and the strong whoosh of alcoholic flame. 

Café Brulot is a classic after-dinner cocktail consisting of brandy sweetened with a little orange liqueur and spiced with cinnamon stick, cloves, and orange. A silver bowl of the aromatic concoction is touched off with a match and explodes in a controlled ball of liquid blue flame. Flavors intensify as  the alcohol burns off, , and server nimbly ladle flames a foot in the air for added flourish. After a few minutes of pyrotechnic performance, the flames are extinguished with a stream of hot chicory-laced coffee, then served in an innocuous demi-tasse cups. The resulting after-dinner drink is potent, aromatic, and soothing to a butter-filled stomach.

For customers who prefer a little food with their flame, the Crepes Suzette fit the bill nicely. Crepes filled with orange marmelade are assembled in a chafing dish, while a buttery orange sauce -- spiked with brandy, of course -- gets ignited for tableside show.