Gator Bites and Crawfish Tails at The Quarter

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Jes Gearing

The Quarter

The Quarter’s Blackened Red Snapper and Mashed Sweet Potatoes Maque Choux.

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Jes Gearing

The Quarter

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Jes Gearing

The Quarter

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Jes Gearing

The Quarter

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Jes Gearing

The Quarter

The Quarter’s theme is four-quarter bon temps.

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Jes Gearing

The Quarter

The Quarter’s Blackened Red Snapper and Mashed Sweet Potatoes Maque Choux.

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7 of 7

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Jes Gearing

The Quarter

A Quarter specialty: Shrimp Andouille Pasta.

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Okay, the first thing you should know about me is that I’m a real expert on New Orleans. Heck, I’ve seen the entire first season of HBO’s “Tremé.”

No, sadly, that’s not true. I’ve never had the good fortune to travel to New Orleans, but it’s a city that notwithstanding its size has permeated a great deal of American culture, influencing music, art, literature, and maybe most of all, food.

My wife and I recently decided to see if any of that culinary tradition has made its way here to Roanoke, and so we found ourselves on Salem Avenue at The Quarter. Though it’s been open for creeping up on two years, we’ve never had an opportunity to eat there (though I can attest that the draft Abita beer has been a consistent winner).

When we arrived, there was a lively crowd at the bar and at the booths and tables lining the room. On the right, an intricate and gorgeous bar lines the wall, and there are some tables and booths dovetailing it in the rest of the high-ceilinged room. Lots of beads, lots of masks, and an alligator mounted on the wall. There was also a poster of a cat drinking a glass of absinthe, which seemed to bode well. I must admit I was a bit disappointed when the hostess led us up the stairs, to the upper dining room, which had a slightly more mellow vibe. However, this turned out to be a pretty good development after all, in that we were able to enjoy a little conversation and some really great service that may have gotten a bit lost in the shuffle downstairs.

As we started to get to know the menus, I asked my wife if she wanted to try one of the house cocktails. “No,” she said, perusing the list listlessly. “I’m really more in a wine place.”

“Well,” I replied, “maybe that’s for the be…”

“However,” she gasped, eyes alight. I followed her gimlet gaze down the page to the “French 75,” a concoction of gin, simple syrup, champagne and lemon juice. A classic cocktail, it is named after a quick-firing French cannon, which I found to be pretty apt. I was feeling adventurous, and I asked the waitress to bring me a glass of whatever came out of the Abita Amber tap. It was my lucky day.

It took me what seemed to my wife like forever to absorb the menu, so we had plenty of time for a round of starters. My wife insisted on the deep-fried pickles, which were surprisingly crisp (cooking pickles can sometimes take some of the snap out of them), battered and fried to a light golden brown. This is an institution of Southern cuisine that I’ve never really enjoyed, but she’s a fan, and liked these in particular.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t say no to the blackened gator bites and the fried crawfish tails. The gator bites were bite-sized chunks of alligator tail, firm and juicy, and just spicy enough to compliment the heady flavor of the flesh. Meanwhile, the crawfish tails were very tender and tasty, in a crispy fried coating. The flavor is somewhere between shrimp and lobster.

As we were enjoying our appetizers in the attractive upstairs dining room – exposed brick walls with red ochre-colored wainscoting, high ceilings, tiffany lamps hanging from the ceiling, and lots of requisite Bourbon Street and New Orleans Saints paraphernalia – we started to notice a pattern with the music. A Steely Dan song was followed by a Hall and Oates song, only to be followed by another Steely Dan song. And so on. Since I’m not aware of any connection between these groups and the Big Easy, this sort of stood out for us. But this wasn’t really all that important, since it was time to order our entrees.

My wife was fully prepared, having decided on the crawfish étouffée even before we had ordered our appetizers. But me, I was having a bit of trouble landing on something. The blackened snapper looked wonderful, but so did the Cajun fried chicken. The ribeye, blackened prime rib, and the Cajun meatloaf  also looked amazing, but I was really more interested in trying something that really felt like it was a seriously authentic New Orleans taste. The oyster po’ boy and the muffuletta were in the running, but while the sandwiches on the menu all looked appetizing, they’re served with a side of potato chips. To me, that doesn’t say “midnight in the Quarter” so much as it says “3 p.m. at an eight-year-old’s birthday party.”

Our waitress, Megan, was quite patient while I was trying to decide. She made us feel very much at home, and brought my wife a tiny strand of Mardi Gras beads that some skillful artist had twisted into the shape of a puppy, and they refused to let me play with it until I chose something to eat.

Luckily, there was an item on the menu that made it a lot easier to choose: the New Orleans combo. The upside was that I could choose three unique items to sample. The downside, of course, is that I had to choose three unique items to sample. In the end (much to our waitress’s eventual relief) I managed to make a selection and chose the shrimp and grits, gumbo, and beans and rice. I should mention here that the waitress had no input to offer on why Hall and Oates or Steely Dan had anything to do with New Orleans.

Of my trio of tasty entrée samplings, the shrimp and grits was the real standout. Served with a rich, creamy gravy, the grits had a bit of texture to them; many restaurants overcook them until they’re just way too mushy. The beans and rice were also very nice, with a distinct flavor of chili powder and onion. The gumbo was thick and spicy, with a rich flavor of stock and diced peppers, celery and onion. Overall, the combo was a great mixture of spicy and mellow.

Side note: all three of the items in my New Orleans combo had slices of delicious hearty andouille sausage. Megan was not too receptive about my idea to rename it the “cardiologist’s delight.” Meanwhile, my wife’s crawfish étouffée was also very tasty. A hearty stew of crawfish, celery, green peppers, fresh tomatoes, and copious amounts of onion, she was especially pleased that it didn’t seem like the dish had been allowed to simmer for hours and hours, patiently awaiting our arrival. “It hasn’t been cooked to death,” she said, “which is nice. But the vegetables aren’t still too crisp, which is creepy in a stew dish.” Can’t argue with that.  

When it was time for dessert, I found myself wishing that I’d foregone around 60 percent of what I’d already eaten, and just devoted myself to the afters. I knew we were in for a good time when our waitress recommended a cup of chicory coffee. I jumped at the chance, since I hadn’t had a cup of this rich treat since Mill Mountain Coffee & Tea stopped serving it (hint, guys!) And along with our coffee, we had some amazing after-dinner treats. A rich, warm, buttery bread pudding with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, a hefty slice of pecan pie with a touch of bourbon, and a jaunty zydeco song on the sound system! Just the things we needed to put a fantastic finish on our meal.