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| - Emeril Lagasse grates my last nerve, so it was with much reluctance I allowed myself to be persuaded in here for lunch by some very convincing -- and hungry -- friends. It was a fine experience, thankfully devoid of the man himself, but I wasn't blown away.
Husband really liked his gumbo, with spicy, smoky andouille. My oyster and rock shrimp po' boy -- which wasn't listed on the menu, but the waiter mentioned I could combine the two options if I so desired in a sandwich cleverly named, "The Peacemaker." -- was quite good. Light, crunchy cornmeal batter, *tons* of fresh, lovely seafood, and a chewy, crunchy-exteriored homemade baguette. But they were accompanied by a bag (literally, they were still in the celo) of Zapp's Tabasco chips. You can't make your own, Emeril? I get they're a Gulf Coast delicacy, but they just seemed out of place at this semi-swank eatery next to my $16 sandwich.
My dining companions weren't as lucky with their meals. Two ordered the flank steak salads with medium-rare meat -- but the meat was *so* rare it was practically mooing. Another ordered a burger medium-rare, and encountered the opposite problem. It was *so* cooked air escaped when she bit into it. She sent it back only to have the second one come out with a pulse. Sent it back for round three, and it finally came out right. Dinner rolls before the meal were totally dry and tasted like they'd just been picked up at the grocery store in the day-old section.
At the recommendation (repeated insistence) of a friend, tho, we tried the banana cream pie. Ridiculous. The best thing we ate. By far.
Cocktails were good, ambiance pleasant, and our server was great -- really personable and chatty, and quite attentive. But overall, I wasn't enchanted by Mr. Lagasse's New Orleans Fish House. Mostly because I could feel his irritating presence lingering in the air...BAAAMMM!
[Top Chef: Emeril Lagasse]
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