The story below is from our March/April 2025 issue. For more stories like it, Subscribe Today. Thank you!
Photos by John Park
At Gianni’s, jambalaya and gumbo share top billing with fried goat and life-changing oxtails.
Conventional dining wisdom goes that the measure of a great restaurant is consistency. This leads to satisfaction, sure, but another hallmark of a memorable meal is the excitement that brews once you’ve paid your check and start plotting your return to try more of the menu. Happily, you’ll experience both at Gianni’s, which owner Sherley Baptiste opened in the former Farmburguesa space in Grandin Village in September 2024. For her “Louisiana Creole Caribe fusion” concept, Baptiste draws on a myriad of Caribbean culinary influences, including her native Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Grenada and Jamaica, where fried goat and braised oxtails sit alongside Louisiana culinary calling cards like jambalaya and gumbo.
My first dining experience at Gianni’s last fall culminated with one of the most acute cases of order envy I’ve experienced in my decade-plus career as a food writer. At midday, the restaurant was quiet, save for a couple at the next table over supping on jambalaya and gumbo, and a gentleman dining solo two tables over. The way he bantered with Baptiste led me to believe he was a regular, and I was curious to see what he ordered. When his dish hit the table, I looked up and made eye contact. “These oxtails will change your life,” he said pointing emphatically at the steaming bowl before plunging his spoon into the broth and taking a big slurp, his eyes involuntarily closing with pleasure.
I’d already ordered a smattering of dishes, including cubes of fried goat from the fritailles section, at once crispy and tender with a pleasing chew; I’d only ever had braised goat or curried goat, so I was delighted to discover a new-to-me preparation. It was served with fried green plantains, saucisse (a Kielbasa-style sausage), sweet potatoes and marinade, a fluffy dumpling I wished I could order by the dozen (they can in fact be ordered as a side). And I couldn’t get enough of the accompanying pikliz, a refreshing, crunchy medley of cabbage, carrots and bell pepper that straddles the line between pickles and slaw. The condiment is punched up with vinegar, lemon and bouillon, and gets its piquant heat from habanero peppers, eliciting the kind of hurts-so-good feeling that has you reaching for more. Still, I thought about those oxtails for months, and knew I had to remedy my lingering case of order envy before the year was up.
When I dropped in for lunch in mid-December, Baptiste had plucky Christmas music playing, a noticeable change from the music-free dining room on my first visit. I’d brought my mom and daughter along, and placed a Thanksgiving-amount order of courses, the oxtails, of course, along with some of the Creole and Louisiana staples I’d missed the first time, including gumbo, jambalaya and shrimp etouffee, plus baguette with fresh garlic butter, meatballs and French fries in case my daughter wasn’t feeling particularly adventurous. Then, as with the first experience, the service was unhurried, which can make for a leisurely lunch so long as you order appetizers to snack on. (Gianni’s also appears to do a steady takeout business if you don’t have time to dine in.)
I wished we’d ordered the plate of fried plantains with ground beef, which two men were tucking into over at what I recognized as “the oxtail man’s table.” I overheard them conversing in French, and their Caribbean-inflected lilt made me wonder where they hailed from, and more importantly, what they had ordered. As if on cue, their server delivered a fried whole fish on a platter. The prickle of order envy was swift, especially once Baptiste revealed it was red snapper, one of my favorites, and after realizing that the dish was in fact gluten-free and my mom could’ve shared it with me. Thankfully, my jealousy was quelled with the arrival of our own feast
After I’d built up the oxtails in my head, I almost expected to be let down. Not so. The broth was deeply savory and rich, the way that broths infused with marrow and collagen are, imbuing it with a restorative, soul-soothing quality. The morsels of meat fell easily from the bone, succulent and rich, and I swear I closed my eyes. I opted for rice and peas on the side, which could double as small but hearty lunch (and made for welcome leftovers). The rice, whether white rice or rice and peas, is the kind of deceptively simple dish that Baptiste mastered cooking big family suppers: intentionally seasoned and cooked with structural integrity in mind, the better to hold its domed structure on the plate.
The other dishes we sampled were comforting and satisfying, in the way that being served a homecooked meal elicits. The gumbo, anchored by a central scoop of white rice, was nicely seasoned with a pronounced vegetal backbone from the okra, which doubles as a thickening agent, and I loved the sausage studded throughout. The shrimp etoufee featured a generous amount of tender, plump shrimp, and although the sauce was amply creamy and seasoned with the holy trinity—onions, celery and bell peppers—how could it possibly compete for my tastebuds’ favor with the heady richness of the oxtails?
I can’t wait to discover my next source of order envy, or maybe the better bet is to proactively stave it off. When a sandwich craving strikes, I’ll pop in for the riki, a Dominican-inspired street food favorite where baguette is stuffed with ground beef, cabbage, tomatoes and boiled egg and then pressed like a panini. Or perhaps I’ll order it as part of the Taste of Caribe, where it’s plated with an empanada and fried plantains. If a comfort food situation arises, I’ll opt for yaroa de pollo y papas con queso, starring French fries—which, when ordered as a side arrive hot, crispy and left to be salted to your preference—topped with chicken and cheese a la loaded fries. I’m still curious about the hot boudin balls, crispy fritters stuffed with sausage and rice, which Baptiste serves with ranch. It’s just the sort of unassuming dish that might spark order envy for the next table over.
The story above is from our March/April 2025 issue. For more stories like it, Subscribe Today. Thank you!
