Bernadine’s brings Louisiana flavors to the Heights
Louisiana-tinged Bernadine’s a wonderful discovery in the Heights
Witty ideas, meticulous execution, flavors that jump without running wild: Much of what I love about Bernadine’s rests in a shallow soup bowl where two toasty baguette slices cradle a fluff of shrimp paste, speckled green with scallion and herbs.
Beneath these bread boats lies a shining mahogany sea of New Orleans-style barbecued shrimp sauce, all deep tart tang and umami resonance. It’s Gulf Coast meets Guangzhou, and like the best of Lafayette-born chef Graham Laborde’s dishes at this latest restaurant from the Tread-sack group, it’s brilliant.
What I particularly admire about
Laborde’s talent is that his humblest dishes show as much detailed precision as the big-deal $30-something dinner entrees. Even his house-bottled hot sauce is bright, glorious stuff, with just the right fermented, funky edge to it.
The lunchtime fried oyster and shrimp po-boy (billed by its historic New Orleans name of “Peacemaker”) is a miraculous mesh of flavors and textures, from deftly fried shellfish to the shardy joys of its French roll, bought from New Orleans’ famed Leidenheimer bakery and toasted so that crisp crust and soft, light interior create a balanced tension.
That’s not all that sets this po-boy apart. Rather than glopping on the mayo and shredded iceberg lettuce to fulfill the “dressed” part of the po-boy mandate, Laborde employs some clever hacks. The roll’s inside expanses get swiped with a bouncy Creole mustard vinaigrette, less apt to sog out than the mayonnaise dressing that goes, instead, at the heart of the sandwich, where it won’t affect the bread. Crisp julienned cabbage replaces the usual iceberg, another trick to avert the sogginess trap. Toted home by a significant other who’d just closed down the bars, this sandwich might well make peace.
So might a messier and less portable heap of crawfish monkey bread, its pull-apart sections doused in velvety pimento cheese sauce studded with pearly little mudbug tails. It’s good ol’ crawfish bread made new again.
Laborde’s oyster dishes of winter now are being supplanted by the crab dishes of late spring and summer. I do miss those cold-smoked oysters from the opening appetizer slate, so delicate and slippery with their slide of crème fraîche and briny pop of choupique, the bowfin eggs that count as Louisiana caviar. But in its cool, collected place, I love Laborde’s new chilled cucumber-buttermilk “gazpacho,” the soup hiding a cache of blue crab and surprisingly apt pinpoints of sweet-pickled jalapeño, with dots of housemade queso fresco underlining the smooth softness.
Also good for hot weather is a wedge salad variant of tender young local romaine hearts with blue crabmeat and batons of Benton’s bacon, its dressing a lively mashup of green goddess and blue cheese. My only complaint? Not quite enough of the spectacular dressing to go around. (If Laborde bottled his green goddess to go, I’d never be without it in my fridge.)
And what of the bigticket fish entrees on which many a seafood restaurant wants to hang its name but so often disappoint? Here, a tall hunk of Gulf red snapper came to the table immaculately pan-seared, poised on an ingenious halfcrisp tangle of peppery julienned sweet potato. A small puddle of lemony whipped ricotta chimed in from the side, and everything clicked into place.
The same happened with a slab of elegantly fried catfish nested on twangy braised greens, with cool, crisp contrast supplied by mirliton slaw and tart buttermilk dressing. Another night’s grilled-fish-and-grits special featured barrel fish, a Gulf species with a flake so large and firm it grills up almost like lobster. A touch of late spring shone in the pattypan squash and grilled ramps on the plate. If only the pickled shrimp garnish had provided a bit more tartness to lift the lush Anson Mills grits and gentle fumet broth, this dish would have seemed perfect to me.
Despite the seafood slant of Bernadine’s, Laborde’s meat dishes impress. Most unusual is his pressed riff on cochon du lait, the Louisiana whole-suckling-pig-fest amalgam of soft, crisp and crackly bits. Laborde uses smoked, roasted, braised and fried morsels pressed together, cut into squares and finished with a seared crust that cracks briskly under the teeth. With its ingenious “dirty farro” and sharp Creole mustard vinaigrette, this is an enormously satisfying plate.
So is the related headcheese Hot Brown sandwich served at brunch, the head-cheese terrine incorporating some of the odd bits gleaned from cochon-du-lait making. Rich and profound, the slices of soft head-cheese pried an involuntarwy “Holy !#%!” from me at first bite. Good red tomato, Benton’s bacon, a light glaze of cheesy Mornay sauce and a slab of brioche toast gave this remarkable piece of charcuterie a fine setting.
My appreciation of a restaurant often breaks down during dessert, but not here. Pastry chef Julia Doran’s combine a sweet innocence with sophistication, from airy Oeufs a la Neige with orange-laced crème Anglaise to a fascinating souffléd chocolate tart set off by salted caramel, salt and pepper ice cream and puffs of sorghum-coated caramel corn.
What makes the food even more pleasurable is the well-considered wine list from Travis Hinkle and his team, thoughtful cocktails from Leslie Ross and company, and a smooth-running dining room that extends to an inviting oyster bar and a big outdoor patio. The front desk and service style are notable for their warm welcome and a friendliness that seems smart and competent, not mindlessly overfamiliar.
I have come to trust the sound wine advice from sommelier Monica Townsend, who has a gift for describing the qualities that might make you choose (or reject) a particular bottle or glass. Ask for her assistance if you can; but even when she is not on duty, I’ve had good recommendations from servers. That speaks well for the level of training.
Indeed, Bernadine’s consistent execution and service at this point have it bumping up against fourstar-rating territory, and I would not be surprised to see the restaurant get there. If there’s a weakness, it’s the blandness of the dining room, with its perfectly neutral Japanese-style look and vaguely nautical captain’s chairs.
I prefer the sleeker, more memorable style of the oyster bar anyway, with its nifty use of translucent corrugated plastic and its serene counter. There I am happy to sit with a glass of Muscadet and a half-dozen halfshell oysters from the cold waters of New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, each variety with its own special balance of salinity, fruit or vegetable tones and mineral traces.
The oyster menu changes constantly. Chef Laborde recently told me they’ve stopped serving Gulf oysters until fall comes around, but last week he had some Turtle Backs from Porterville Bay, Ala. “They’re so good!” he urged me, his eyes lighting up as they do whenever he starts talking about this or that Gulf Coast foodstuff he loves.
Immaculately opened, with a delicate creaminess and a light trace of salt, those mid-May Alabama oysters were — like the restaurant that served them — a wonderful discovery.