Louisiana pearl
Often overlooked, Baton Rouge proves more than a pit stop.
BATON ROUGE, La. — Lots of folks seem to have an opinion about where to eat here — especially Bill, who runs the valet at the Hotel Indigo downtown.
“Have you been to Roux 61 yet? The portions are huge!” he says, whipping out his phone. “Look at this onion ring. You could wear it on your wrist. We took home two boxes of leftovers. Two! What about Little Village? You gotta go to Little Village. Best bread you’ll ever eat. Soft, like a pillow. I’m telling you...”
It was my last night in Baton Rouge, and as Bill carried on, I began to fret that there were too many restaurants left on my list. I’d already hit more than a dozen over the course of a long weekend, hoping to get a better taste of the city that I had previously only visited as a final pit stop en route to New Orleans, an hour or so to the east.
Between meals, I also dipped into the area’s historical and cultural waters, exploring museums and a nearby plantation.
Summer is a fine time to visit Louisiana’s capital city. Without the college crowds — good luck getting a hotel room during a Louisiana State University home football game weekend — Baton Rouge cracked open like so many oysters. And as I would come to discover, the city deserves more than a cursory glance.
Old and new
After crossing the dramatic bridge over the Mississippi River, the castlelike Gothic Revival-style Old State Capitol building downtown seemed like a good place to get my feet wet. Built in the mid-1800s, portraits of former Louisiana governors span walls encircling an impressive spiral staircase below the blooming, stained-glass rotunda.
One of those heads of state, controversial game-changer Huey Long, is the subject of an intriguing exhibit at this museum of political history. For the uninitiated, populist democrat Long was governor from 1928 to 1932, then served on the U.S. Senate. He was assassinated in 1935, at 42, shortly after announcing he’d run for president. An ominous room here covers his death, and includes a case displaying the .32 caliber pistol that Dr. Carl Weiss supposedly used to shoot Long in the new state capitol building. (More on that in minute.)
Across the street, the Shaw Center for the Arts is a contrast of old and new. Completed in 2005, the contemporary five-story structure is home to a theater, a rooftop sushi restaurant called Tsumani and the LSU Museum of Art. The latter’s exhibits, culled from the university’s collection, run the gamut from 19th century paintings to decorative arts and sculpture. The temporary exhibit up now features multimedia works by colorful neoexpressionist Hunt Slonem. Dozens upon dozens of the artist’s ornately framed oil paintings of bunnies span an entire wall; it teed up a perfect photo op before I hopped along elsewhere.
Baton Rouge’s urban core is fairly quiet and pedestrian friendly, at least until the bar strip on Third Street gets cranking in the wee hours. Still thinking about the haunting exhibit at the capitol, I walk a block to Poor Boy Lloyd’s. President Obama popped into this old-school café during a visit here earlier this year, and as I tuck into my own roast-beef po-boy sandwich, I wonder if he and late Gov. Long would’ve been friends.
To the north, the manicured gardens fronting the “new” state capitol are stroll-worthy on a pretty day. Long was instrumental in getting this imposing structure built in the early ’30s. He was shot inside, moments after a house bill passed that would remove Judge Benjamin Henry Pavy, a long-time opponent of Long’s, from the bench. It is said Long hoped the art-deco style of the 34-story, 450-foot tower — the tallest state capitol in the U.S. — would raise Louisiana out of swamps and into the 20th century.
Dine around
Baton Rouge’s food scene is undergoing something of a renaissance according to Matthew Sigur, who covers restaurants for the Baton Rouge Advocate.
“For the longest time,” he says, “Baton Rouge was just known for old-time staples. Five years ago, it was all about the dives and classic restaurants that had been there for two decades or more. But now, more residents are willing to branch out and try something different. That has created an interesting build of foodies and chef-based restaurants.
“We now have at least a handful of great restaurants that make Baton Rouge a destination for food. And you couldn’t say that so confidently back then.”
So with some suggestions from Sigur, I set off for a day of dining.
This is not entirely easy to do for the passing-through tourist. Like Houston, sprawl is a factor. Downtown is walkable and has several enticing options, but getting to many of the latest and greatest spots requires a car (or Uber ride) and a bit of dedication. But there are rewards.
I found plenty to like in the Bocage area. Seeking shelter from a torrential downpour, I ducked into the bustling bar at City Pork Brasserie. The hip space has exposed beams and industrial details and equally hip, denim-apron-clad staffers who served up a sprightly Bloody Mary garnished with pickled okra and a sturdy slab of bacon that could’ve been a meal unto itself. But I was also lured by a grand board of charcuterie and cheese. Other hits on the wild-game-savvy, international-flavor-flecked menu: “pork debris”-stuffed spring rolls and an earthy rabbit entrée with gyoza-style dumplings.
Nearby, Beausoliel is a charmer. At the far end of an unassuming strip center, the snug, French-feeling neighborhood bistro’s chef, Nathan Gresham, puts out inventive, elevated spins on Louisiana fare. Fried oysters get a truffled treatment; shrimp and grits are laced with Benton’s ham;
Gulf fish is deftly sauced. Instead of bread to start a meal here, diners receive a small bowl of pork rinds. Hard not to love that.
Meanwhile, Overpass Merchant — it’s actually beneath a freeway overpass — is an easy hangout near the LSU campus. The new gastropub mixes American classics (think burgers and mac ’n’ cheese) with dishes like smoked-pork steamed buns and churros. Paired with a pint of Baton Rouge-born Tin Roof beer, it’s one example of a useful restaurant that would fit in just fine on most any major food city’s stage. Grand tour
The drive to Houmas House plantation is an easy half hour, and there are worse ways to burn off calories from a gluttonous lunch (or three) than touring its majestic grounds.
The 38-acre antebellum estate is grand, but as I would learn from tour guide John Hébert, it’s a mere fraction of its original size. As a sugar plantation before the Civil War, the property spanned 300,000 acres, employed some 800 slaves and produced 200 million pounds of sugar. (“It’d take about four people nowadays to do that,” Hébert quips.)
The place has had 14 different owners, the first being the Houmas Indians and the latest being Kevin Kelly, a businessman from New Orleans who bought it in 2003 and poured money into improvements and restoration projects. Perhaps its most famous owner was John Burnside, an Irish character who oversaw heyday sugar production and saved the mansion from destruction at the hands of advancing Union forces during the war.
The tour, which starts beneath a 500-year-old oak tree with the ringing of a bell, is only an hour; I could have spent an hour in each of the mansion’s rooms. Pointing out art and artifacts, Hébert tells colorful story after story without glossing over the hard stuff. My group included a grandmother and six of her grandchildren, who engaged Hébert and asked questions about slavery and other things they’d learned in school.
Stopping in front of Burnside’s liquor cabinet, Hébert says the Irishman would have three mint juleps before breakfast every morning. (His man servant would make no more than three, we’re told, because that would be too many.)
In honor of Mr. Burnside, I retired to the Houmas House’s on-site bar for my own taste of the South. Dinner on the half-shell
Back downtown on my final night, I figured the only logical way to cap the weekend was with a progressive dinner.
The quiet, woodwrapped Restaurant IPO provided what was arguably the best dish I had all weekend: bacon-wrapped dates stuffed with chorizo sausage, mole and zapped with cilantro aioli. Pulling in flavors from around the world, it still somehow tasted Baton Rouge.
Jolie Pearl is a different scene entirely — a boisterous bar with cold beer, loud music and a dizzying array of oysters prepared in all manner of ways with various raw toppings. Perched at the bar with a icy bottle of beer, a sampler bearing the raw, oceanic fruits of Virginia, Maryland and Washington arrived post haste. Shortly thereafter another half dozen, these of the garlicky, chargrilled variety, made their way in front of me. The man fastidiously shucking bivalves from ice-filled tubs at the far end of bar, noticing I hadn’t yet tried the place’s signature “Jolie Pearl” oyster from Grand Isle, La., paused and held out his hand. Accepting his gift, I greedily slurped down the smooth, mildly briny oyster, no accoutrements required.
That would’ve been a sweet finish to the evening, but I still had one place to go: Little Village, the Italian joint around the corner from Hotel Indigo with the amazing bread. Bill’s praise was spot-on: the downy white loaf graced with olive oil and parmesan disappeared in minutes.
Brand-new Roux 61, with its cuff-bracelet-sized onion rings, would have to wait till next time.