Restaurant review: N’awlins, nouvelle at Roux

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, the last few months have been a tantalizing tease. Suzanne and Roger Perry are geniuses at building anticipation. The Facebook posts on Roux had me salivating all spring as I followed tales of “research” in New Orleans in expectation of the June opening. As summer slowly slipped by, but the pictures grew ever more enticing, I was like a “greyhound in the slips, straining upon the start.” By the time July turned to August, I wondered aloud (to myself) if we were all like the tramps in Waiting for Godot.

And then, like the sun’s brilliant rays peeking through dark clouds after a storm, the doors to Roux unbolted for business. Is anticipation the greater joy? Or does the “Creole nouvelle” cuisine, which “respect(s) iconic centuries old restaurants of the French Quarter and draws inspiration from the post-Katrina kitchens of the new NOLA,” deliver?

The proof, as they say, is in the “roux.” And Roux’s roux rocks.

A great gumbo requires patience with the roux — a slowly browned mixture of oil and flour. When the color gradually deepens to a milk chocolate hue, you know that magic is about to happen. If you’re tempted to rush, the flour burns and creates an acrid taste. But with the perfect roux, Roux’s Mumbo Jumbo Seafood Gumbo adds Gulf Coast brown shrimp, blue crab fingers, redfish, trout, heritage konriko wild pecan rice and Louisiana crawfish; it is absolutely transporting. And the menu also features a duck and andouille sausage variation.

As I’m struggling with my sense memories to recall if I’ve ever had better gumbo, even in N’awlins, a dining companion fills my mouth with Roux’s crawfish cheesecake appetizer. The Ritz cracker crust is topped with a light creole-cream cheese mixture. The crustacean notes are subtle and the saffron rémoulade (think gourmet tartar sauce) is a wonderful complement. If this is “Creole nouvelle,” I just want more.

Most visits to NOLA include a de rigueur trek to Café du Monde for beignets, a doughnut variation made from deep-fried choux paste, then buried in powdered sugar. I’m curious to see how the savory variation of Abita beer-battered crab beignets works. The six round, golden fritters that arrive with house-made saffron, cayenne and chive rémoulades have soft, very moist interiors. The crab flavor is there, but the texture is unexpectedly silky. My table is oohing and ahhing, but I’m on the fence; it’s hard to let go of my Café du Monde memories.

I silently repeat the “nouvelle” mantra in my mind as I pop a few of the Abita beer-battered alligator (tastes like chicken) bites in my mouth after dipping them in spicy cayenne rémoulade. They’re tasty morsels that only grow in my estimation as I (FSU alum) imagine Gators from Gainesville. Umm-umm good!

Two crispy beer-battered quail are split, and surf, wings akimbo, atop sweet potato waffle triangles. There’s a sugary Barq’s root beer reduction, bits of spicy praline pecans and a coulis of mayhaw, a Louisiana swamp fruit. It’s a delightful variation on Southern tradition. And cast iron-braised rabbit with hunter’s gravy and yummy buttermilk dumplings is a quintessential Bayou dish good enough to cast a spell.

Next: a group of entrees fire-grilled over Roux’s signature blend of oak and pecan woods.

I can’t wait for the lamb belly roulade, since pork belly is one of my favorites, and I’ve never seen the lamb variation. The rolled belly has plenty of savory char, which delivers flavor along with lamb essence and Creole mustard vinaigrette, but there’s barely a sliver of meat. For me, it doesn’t compare with its porcine equivalent, but a diner at an adjacent table is enthusiastic. In any case, the brabant sweet potatoes (think cubed fries) are just right.

There’s little sauce on the wood-grilled speckled trout meunière; in fact, I’m hard pressed to detect any citrus or butter. That said, the fish is moist, mild and tinged with smoke. And Roux’s version of maque choux (pronounced “mack shoe”) is a huge, flavorful mound of sweet corn and diminutive butter beans with savory herbs and aromatics; it’s flat-out delicious. The portion is so big that our ravenous table can’t finish because we have our eye on dessert.

And dessert features individual servings of vintage baked Alaska with a nouvelle twist. Red velvet cake replaces the traditional yellow pound cake, which is topped with a combo of Creole cream cheese and cherries jubilee gelato, and a touch of bananas Foster filling. The whole luscious dome is slathered with torched meringue that is indescribably creamy.

Pecan bread pudding is served in its own cast iron pot and features Leidenheimer French baguettes direct from NOLA with a small pitcher of warm bourbon-butterscotch sauce. There’s not much custard, so it’s more reminiscent of monkey bread to me, but it quickly disappears.

The list of wines by the glass is surprisingly small, but there are plenty of wonderful beer choices and a superb cocktail list. I have an absolutely knock-your-socks-off Vieux Carré, named after NOLA’s famed French Quarter. If you’re rye-curious, give this one a shot. And while you’re at it, ask for the “absinthe room.” It’s got the same gas lamps and tin ceilings, but has the bonus of intimacy and Art Nouveau posters. 

This article appears in Sep 11-17, 2014.