Commander's Palace, 1403 Washington Ave., (504) 899-8221 (Weekend jazz brunch, LD)
When you make a reservation, tell 'em you request a vegan meal.
Is it snooty? Yes, and I quote, "Dress is upscale, jackets preferred at dinner. No Shorts." So if you go in there like a wise guy with your long white t-shirt and your jeans hanging low, I don't care if you're Lil fuckin' Wayne, expect to be dragged back to the kitchen and have a shaving cream pie smashed in your damn face.
What I suggest for the ladies is to wear something baggy and sleeveless, something that shows off your sweaty armpit hair nicely. I didn't see that banned by the dress code.
Is it touristy? Yeah, but who gives a shit? Look around, and you'll also see something far more repulsive -- a bunch of rich white New Orleans uptown prunes with huge gold broaches and earrings so heavy, their lobes drag on the ground. You know who you are -- you Nancy (Worms Have Recently and Justifiably Torn the Dead Flesh From My Bones) Reagan lookalikes who care more about what to wear to your no-blacks-allowed Mardi Gras ball than about Chopper City soldiers killing one another at a rate unsurpassed by any other city in America.
Disclaimer: Commander's is a fully integrated eating establishment. If you're a person with color, and you have a jacket and a couple hundred bucks, you get a table at Commander's, no questions asked.
Well, that's some expert sociological analysis right there. It's making me hungry.
The one time I ate there, Commander's served the tied-for-best (with Cochon) fancy vegan meal I've ever had. It was grilled veggies and a salad -- and I can't really tell you what made them so magical because I have a bad memory -- but someone back in the kitchen put some fairy dust on that shit or something. Someone else I know reports similar results.
Now, I hope this review doesn't have unintended consequences, like Commander's chef jizzing in your appetizer just because you're vegan. Not all vegans are this bitter and nasty. And yet so willing to speak the truth.
Well, I was gonna write more, but the doggie's gotta go pee pee and poo poo.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
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