Steaks at Rare Cuts. Photo by Renee Bienvenu.

Food historians believe that the first iterations of civilization began thousands of years ago when meat met flame. As the story goes, mankind was drawn in from the wild, where he cooked and shared a meal with his fellow hunter-gatherers. This theory of the dawn of civilization rings true today. Barbecues, cochon de laits, and backyard grill outs are still some of our favorite parties to attend. But even though the simple equation of Meat + Fire = Dinner has not changed since our Paleolithic ancestors roamed the Earth, no venue is more popular for celebrating a momentous occasion than the all-American steakhouse.

A massive hunk of crusty, rosy-red beef, some form of potato, and a bottle of red wine served in a white table cloth and leather-bound setting is a formula for guaranteed satisfaction—until the waiter drops the check off at your table. Rare Cuts gives the home cook access to top flight meats in order to create a steakhouse experience in your own dining room at half the price. And what better time to indulge in the pleasures of animal protein than in the waning days of the Carnival season, after which we are required to stay away from meat for 40 days or else winter will continue for an extra six weeks. Or something like that.

Inside the small storefront at the corner of Nashville and Magazine, Rare Cuts has created a tiny carnivore’s paradise. The refrigerated display shelves are stocked full of every cut of beef, pork, lamb, and veal that one could imagine. In addition to the wide selections of cuts, Rare Cuts offers both wet and dry-aged meat, the latter of which is rarely available for consumer purchase. While the price of dry-aged beef may cause sticker shock to some, the intensity and depth of flavor is worth the price of gold (or in this case, the price of a bone-in, cowboy cut ribeye).

Filets, strip steaks and other common cuts are available, but the best choice is a cut which you may have never heard of: spinalis. Better known as the cap of the rib eye, these are best coated in kosher salt and coarse ground black pepper and then pan roasted. Have cast iron? Good. Use it for the spinalis, along with a healthy knob of butter. The results are sublime. And if you need to crank it up to 11, we have two words for you: lamb spinalis.

If fowl is more your style, Rare Cuts offers premium selections of duck, chicken and quail. Craving a slice of seared foie gras to gild the lily? No problem. You can even pick up twice-baked potatoes and creamed spinach to round out the meal. And for those who desire the classic steakhouse experience with none of the work, Rare Cuts has a private dining room available that can host up to 19 of your closest friends. Bring the wine, choose your own steak straight from the cooler, and toast to the end of another Carnival season.

801 Nashville Ave. (504) 267-4687. Monday – Saturday 10 a.m. – 7 p.m.; Sunday 10 a.m. – 5 p.m.

Christine and Dana Honn of Carmo. Photo by Renee Bienvenu.

After an overindulgent holiday season, the start of a new year marks an appropriate time for your body and palate to break completely from the norm, resolve to eat a few more salads and a lot less steak, and cast away for cuisines unbeknownst to you. For that, we direct you to Carmo, a tropical café tucked away in the heart of the CBD.

What is tropical cuisine, you ask? Your guess is as good as ours. To paraphrase their website, the food at Carmo travels the trade routes from Europe to Africa across the Atlantic to the Caribbean and South America. To this multi-cultural backdrop, owners Dana and Christine Honn (partners both in business and in life) have added their overarching commitment to sustainability, which involves using local organic produce whenever possible, biodegradable supplies, and offering vegan and vegetarian options for nearly every item on the menu. The result is a restaurant which we can best describe with a string of abstract adjectives: different, interesting, and strangely good.

Salads at Carmo are a mélange of fruits and vegetables in unfamiliar combinations. The house special is Jaciara’s Salpicao—don’t worry, the menu includes the English translation of “Brazilian chicken salad”—which is comprised of chunked chicken, turkey and ham, mixed with raisins, peas, cucumbers, peppers, cheese and shoestring potatoes in a creamy house dressing. The potatoes tend to lose their crunch too quickly, but the fresh veggies provide enough texture to the final dish that is surprisingly sweet but also includes a sneaky suspicion of spice.

The lunch menu includes typical deli sandwiches for those afraid of the unknown, but the offbeat combinations of bread and meat are far more rewarding. Banquette Breads include sweet and savory built upon thin and crispy Armenian flat bread. Other sandwiches include no bread at all, like the Rico, an open-faced sandwich whose foundation is a dense patty of mashed plantain, topped with pulled pork of impressive smokiness, especially coming from a kitchen which offers a variety of vegan options. Pao de queijo are Brazil’s answer to France’s gougeres, with a texture like a Southern baked biscuit.

Daily specials usually include a soup and an entree. On a recent visit, dudhi kofta, a cousin of falafel made with ground peanuts and bottle gourd squash, was plated atop rice and covered in a fragrant, spice-laden tomato curry. Gravy and rice for the vegan set, but a great dish nevertheless.

All of these delights are served from a small storefront in a building that’s as versatile as they come. The same space has been utilized for early morning boot camps and as an art gallery. While the substance on the plate and the surroundings may be strange and exotic, being capable to define either is not a prerequisite for enjoying them.

527 Julia St. (504) 875-4132. Lunch: Monday – Saturday, 11:30 a.m. – 3 p.m.; Dinner: Tuesday – Saturday, 5 p.m. – 10 p.m.

Photo by Renee Bienvenu.

The holiday season is accompanied by many traditions such as lighting candles, decorating trees, and participating in feats of strength. Perhaps no holiday tradition is as much fun and delicious as a trip to Martin Wine Cellar to stock up on liquid libations, that most important holiday essential without which we could not survive an afternoon of listening to Uncle Leo wax on about cousin Jeffrey’s meteoric rise through the communications division of the parks department. While Martin’s (as the name has been corrupted) is traditionally known as a place to stock up on burgundy and bourbon, the attached deli has created its own identity as one of the city’s most popular lunch spots.

The menu has expanded into the “bistro” category, but sandwiches are still the lifeblood of what has always been one of the city’s best delis. The kitchen does best with pastrami and corned beef, which are combined together on the Deli Deluxe with melted Swiss cheese on a soft onion roll slathered with Russian dressing and Creole mustard. Smoked salmon is either served classically on a toasted H&H bagel smeared with cream cheese or decadently paired with crisp bacon and wasabi mayo between slices of sourdough. Avoid the Lindy, whose incomplete flavor profile is a result of Russian dressing obfuscated behind bland cole slaw and tasteless turkey.

The list of sandwiches is supplemented by a specials menu that features a singular soup, salad, sandwich, pizza, burger and entrée of the day. Cooler weather means soups are finally an acceptable form of insulation, and Martin’s iteration of tortilla soup was thicker than most of that genre and chock full of tomatoes with a heavy dose of cumin. The daily entrée choices range from seared scallops to Monday’s staple of red beans and rice served with a fat link of spicy sausage. The beans begged for a strong shot of hot sauce, but don’t they all?

The refrigerated display case includes a cornucopia of cold salads, including a delicious Oriental noodle salad whose heft comes by way of a judicious use of sesame oil. Freshly baked cookies and cakes by the slice are available as finishing touches to the meal. If a glass of wine is in order, you may order by the glass or pull any bottle off the shelf, putting at your disposal perhaps the largest virtual wine list in town, and with no corkage fee.

In response to increasing demand, Martin’s has recently expanded into early dinner service, with the kitchen closing at 8 p.m., and Sunday brunch service is more popular than ever. The neighborhood wine store has come a long way since its founding in 1946. But history may come full circle later next year, when hopeful patrons look forward to once again lunching on a Baronne Beast back at the original location on Baronne Street.

714 Elmeer Avenue. (504) 896-7350. Monday – Friday, 9 a.m. – 8 p.m.; Saturday, 9 a.m. – 5 p.m.; Sunday, 10 a.m. – 3 p.m.

Margaritas at Velvet Cactus. Photo by Renee Bienvenu.

Initial Impressions

Peter: The crowds are out in full force, and there is not an empty parking spot to be found on Harrison Avenue. Kids are running around strollers holding their younger siblings while mom and dad sip their drinks to placate themselves for the 30-minute wait. Not an empty seat on the patio, at the bar, or in the dining room whose garage doors are rolled up in order to take advantage of the cool fall temperatures.

Rene: It is a perfect fall Saturday and lunch has just rolled around. We walk right in and get a seat immediately.

Drinks & Dips

Peter: I usually prefer my margaritas on the rocks, but this house version is much too rough going down. The higher priced versions might be a bit smoother, but my tablemate’s pineapple cilantro version has the same base mix but with a lot more pulp. Next time I’ll stick to Tecate in a can.

Rene: As we sit down, we are greeted with a basket of warm chips and a salsa with a fiery smokiness that is a panoply of colors—rusty browns and dark greens set against a maroon. It resembles a mountain range in fall—in places with mountains and/or fall. The salsa is a very strong opening salvo.

The Orders

Peter: We’re covering the most territory possible with the dip sampler, four different tacos (beef, chicken, pork and fish) and three different enchiladas (shrimp, beef and cheese).

Rene: We go with the dip trio as well, a burrito and pork enchiladas. The queso was a touch too thick; the guacamole best with a spike of hot sauce.

The Food

Peter: Wow, that was fast. The waitress did her best Clark Kent impression by walking into the kitchen empty-handed and in what seemed like a few seconds returning with the rest of our order before I could skim the skin off our queso-not-so-blanco. This “velvet beef” is leathery, but the pork pibil is juicy, smoky and by far the best. Enchiladas are soft and wet like they were passed through a steamer instead of the dry heat of an oven.

Rene: The smokiness of the pork played very nicely with the tart, spicy, green chile sauce, making this one of the better enchiladas I’ve encountered. I could have eaten a hundred, but stopped at three. The tortilla soup was excellent with nice chunks of tomato and strands of chicken dancing in an enchanting broth.

6300 Argonne Blvd. (504) 301-2083. Monday – Thursday, 4:30 p.m. – 10 p.m.; Friday – Saturday, 11 a.m. – 11 p.m.; Sunday, 11 a.m. – 10 p.m.

Pizza at Ancora. Photo by Renee Bienvenu.

Two years ago, Freret Street was a ghost town at 8:30 on a Friday night, save for a few cocktail nerds heading into Cure. Today the scene is hopping, especially at Ancora, where the bar is three deep and each table is piled high with pizzas, bruschetta, and a cornucopia of cured meats. Because of the concrete floors and the energy, the noise level hovers around raucous and the prosecco flows freely.

Earlier this summer, Adolfo Garcia extended his reach from the hip confines of the Warehouse District into the burgeoning Freret Street market. From its inception, Ancora was envisioned to be a simple concept focused on authentic Neapolitan pizzas and house-made salumi. The layout of the restaurant mirrors the kitchen’s priorities with the three-ton mosaic-domed oven prominently displayed in the open kitchen. The rest of the space is utilitarian—concrete floors, track lighting fixtures created from wine bottles, and stacks of oak logs that will eventually feed the fire. Silverware and napkins are stocked in paint cans on the table.

The short menu is divided into pizza and anti-pizza, with daily specials scribbled on the chalk board on the back wall. Of the appetizers, the ones that most closely resemble pizza—the bruschettas—are sublime. In the middle of August, a cool blend of caramelized onions, parmesan cheese, and lardo brought forth cravings of cold nights and French onion soup. Any bruschetta that can cultivate warm feelings not only for winter, but for the French is special indeed. A ball of whipped ricotta, which was once served plain and tasting too one note, is now perked up with olive tapenade and chili oil. Contorni (sides) and salads vary depending on market selections.

Pizzas arrive blistered but pliable out of that oven which literally crossed an ocean to get here. The wood fire gives the bottom of the pizzas a smokiness that you can taste when each slice hits your tongue. Toppings feature a variety of impeccably sourced ingredients. Think hand-pulled mozzarella, anchovies, pickled peppers, and house-cured meats, including the best tasting speck this side of the Atlantic.

Dessert selections are limited to mascarpone sweetened with honey and atypically round biscotti whose dimple is filled with a singly cherry. While the atmosphere is casual, prices can unexpectedly add up if you try to sample every dish. But those on a budget will have to exercise self-control when dining in because takeout is not an option. Apparently Ancora’s pies don’t travel as well as the LSU faithful.

4508 Freret St., 324-1636. Monday-Saturday 5:30 p.m.-10 p.m.

Banana Blossom. Photo by Caitlyn Ridenour.

While “location, location, location” may be the first rule of restaurant entrepreneurship, interesting food can often be found in the most unassuming places. When traveling the long road to Banana Blossom, first timers may give up their search when their GPS first leads them to a non-existent address in Gretna. But hopefully the persistent eaters will continue on their way into Terrytown and pull into the strip mall parking lot where the only affirmation of your arrival at the right place is a simple neon sign that says “Thai.” In typically New Orleans fashion, one heads east to the West Bank to find one of the best purveyors of foods from the Far East.

The menu features many of the familiar dishes that you have seen before, plus a few offbeat items to differentiate from the generic. Begin a meal with roti, the griddled flat bread whose light and airy texture is reminiscent of a croissant straight from the oven. Follow with a quartet of baby back ribs which are lightly dusted in flour and deep fried ‘til crisp, the meat varying between slightly tough to deliciously fatty and tender. Liberally apply vinegary hot chili sauce as necessary. If this sounds like an incredible combination between the porcine world and Buffalo wings, you would be correct. When the fresh egg rolls are offered, snatch them up but avoid the sticky, overly sweet dipping sauce.

Drunken (Bourbon) Noodles retain an amazingly soft texture without turning into mush, and the mixture of crinkle cut veggies, bits of egg, crunchy broccoli florets, chopped button mushrooms, and thin wedges of tofu provide enough backbone to delight both vegetarians and carnivores alike. Curries are soupy but not thin on flavor. Sauces on such dishes as Spicy Cashew arrived thin and oily. Spicy basil fried rice is a study in just how delicious vegetables can be, with rings of squash, zucchini, and carrot infiltrating the fluffy egg and just-crisped rice.

The sparse dining room is barren of all creature comforts, with fewer than 10 tables in total lined up along the front and side walls. Service is very friendly if a little spacey, though the waitresses are always smiling and apologetic if necessary. Ice cold Singha beer helps also.

2112 Belle Chasse Hwy #10. (504) 392-7530. Monday – Saturday; 11:30 – 2:30 p.m., 5 – 9:30 p.m.

Photo by Caitlyn Ridenour.

In a city whose weather makes it difficult to notice the change in seasons, the opening and closing of Hansen’s Sno-Bliz is as reliable an indicator of the temperature as the fluctuation in our electricity bills. Since 1939, the Hansen family has provided New Orleanians with a budget-friendly respite from the sweltering heat. Crossing the threshold of the door transforms every grown man and woman into the giddy, sugar-seeking children they once were. It’s a Field of Dreams experience, with an un-air conditioned shack on Tchoupitoulas substituting as the role of a corn field in Iowa.

Behind the counter stands Ashley Hansen, the current proprietor, who inherited the secret of the sno-bliz from her grandparents. She never fails to smile when she asks customers their choice of syrups, and her hands move elegantly and effortlessly as she pours the homemade syrups onto the freshly shaved ice whose texture can only be described as frozen clouds. The ice is so fine that the syrups must be poured in two intermittent phases, lest the flavors not penetrate all the way through. Roughly half the customers at Hansen’s likely never look at the scattered bric-a-brac with flavors stapled, drawn or tacked to it. They don’t look because they know precisely what they are getting when they walk in the joint. Grape, cream of coconut, nectar cream, orange, ice cream, chocolate, and strawberry are stalwarts of the genre. But there are also some lesser called-upon options like cream of cardamom or Satsuma that can take the customer to the Far East or deep winter. All of the flavors are made in house with no shortcuts tolerated.

For the non-traditionalists, the menu includes a number of options beyond the simple formula of ice + syrup. Of course, there is the local’s favorite additive of condensed milk or the Yankee augmentation of marshmallow fluff. Hansen’s own specialty is the Hot Rod, a traditional sno-bliz stuffed with ice cream in the center. Then there is simple overindulgence: the Sundae (ice, syrup, cream, pineapple and cherry), the Duper (add marshmallow), and the Atomic (add marshmallow and ice cream).

Seasonal, farm to table, fresh ingredients, blah blah blah are buzz words in the restaurant industry. Hansen’s knows no other way.

4801 Tchoupitoulas Street. (504) 891-9788. Tuesday-Sunday, 1-7 p.m.

Photo by Caitlyn Ridenour.

During the dark, dry years of prohibition, enterprising men would embark on a nautical journey 12 miles out to sea to escape US jurisdiction. There, in international waters, sat hulking ships filled to the brim with rum, whiskey, and gin. Luckily, the failed experiment known as Prohibition is behind us, but going to 12 Mile Limit on Telemachus Street is a great way to quench your thirst.

Too often the modern cocktail bar charges you 10 clams for a drink some guy invented after being inspired at 4 a.m. while listening to a Jane’s Addiction CD. At 12 Mile, the drinks are still very reasonably priced—around $6 for most cocktails—and they are crafted with care. Frequently, there is a drink waiting to be named; one recent NTD (Name This Drink) combined luxardo, champagne, and celery bitters. Another drink we enjoyed was the Praying Mantis, a citrusy cousin of the classic Mai Tai.

While proprietor T. Cole Newton tends bar in front, kitchen duties are handled by Shorty’s Texas Catering, whose pride and joy are tender slices of brisket and pulled pork smoked for hours on end. But the dish that will have you calling for another round is an improvisation on a game hunter’s treat usually only seen at a lodge. “Rockets” are jalapenos stuffed with cream cheese, wrapped in bacon, and then smoked until the crispy coating of pork bulges with melted cheese barely oozing out of the now soft flesh of the spicy pepper.

Brisket, pork and sausage are served either as a duo of sliders or as a plate with two sides, but the spongy buns oblige us to recommend the latter. Side dishes include cole slaw, white beans, and mac and cheese, which is a failed attempt at an upscale version of the stuff in a blue box. For those searching for a tastier sense of comfort, try the tater tots covered with melted cheese.

Desserts are provided by Debbie Does Doberge, whose pyramid-shaped cupcakes present layers of moist cake and flavored fillings. If the peanut butter is available, grab it. Thus, an afternoon could look like this, Cash Cab, a specialty cocktail, Jeopardy, $1 Miller High Life, Wheel of Fortune, and some doberge. Seems like an afternoon worth risking breaking a few laws for.

500 S. Telemachus St. (504) 488-8114. Tuesday – Thursday 5 p.m. – 12 a.m., Friday 5 p.m. – 2 a.m., Sunday 4 – 10 p.m.

Cyrus Restaurant. Photo by Caitlyn Ridenour.

When dining at Cyrus, two questions immediately come to mind: a) Where exactly is Persia? B) What exactly defines Persian food? Geography majors we are not, but we are fairly certain that Persia is somewhere over there. As for the second question, we consider Persian food to be a unique blend of Indian, Mediterranean and Middle Eastern fare—a “creole” cuisine if you will. (Note: If you wrote a senior thesis on Persian geography/food and have a quibble with our definition, please recall that we only have a 400-word budget.)

Meals at Cyrus begin with an assortment of Middle Eastern dips familiar in description and appearance but unique in flavor. The hummus has a less pronounced lemon and tahini flavor than you may be used to, plus a sprinkle of house ground spices on top. The two eggplant dips reach beyond typical baba ghanoush, especially the Mirza Ghasemi, a creamy, smoky blend of roasted eggplants, garlic, onions, tomato and egg. Dips are ferried to your mouth on the housemade pita. Halfway between a cracker and a pizza dough, Persian bread is a damn fine specimen of the chemistry between flour and water.

Entrees are dominated by skewers of grilled meats, and the combination platters offer a table the opportunity to taste them all. Morsels of ground beef, marinated tenderloin, and crusty lamb lollipops are grilled to juicy perfection and served over the aforementioned pita, which acts as a delicious sponge soaking up all those delectable drippings. Grilled tomatoes and red peppers serve as vegetation, with a fragrant combination of white and saffron rice rounding out the platter. Chicken breast tenders are marinated in citrus, yogurt, and seasonings, then chargrilled to a sunburst yellow color. The result is a sultry, tender piece of chicken which is perfect atop a crisp, cool salad.

Service includes white table cloths and fine stemware, but the prices are quite affordable. The lunch and dinner menus are identical except in cost, with the evening meal prices running 25 percent higher than those in the daytime. While the location will be long known as the former home of the Fun Arcade at one end of Veterans Memorial Boulevard, we predict that Cyrus will soon become a destination for pleasures of the culinary variety.

612 Veterans Memorial Blvd. 309-2477. Lunch: Tues-Sun 11a-3p. Dinner: Tues-Thur 5:30p-9p; Fri-Sat till 10p.

Cafe Degas. Photo by Caitlyn Ridenour.

A meal at Café Degas can be frustratingly French, but in a good way. You will arrive at what looks to be nothing more than a newsstand. Someone may or not be willing to take your name or show you to a table. The bartender may be too busy reading the paper or carefully wiping out wine glasses to fetch you a Lillet Blanc. There may be a large plate of charcuterie on the bar. If so, help yourself and soak in the je ne sais quoi of New Orleans’s most Parisian dining experience.

Your patience will eventually be rewarded with a seat in a dining room open to the elements, covered by a tent and ringed with exposed air vents. A menu chronicles all the French classics—mussels and frites, onion soup, salade Nicoise, and hanger steak. You can’t go wrong with the standards, especially the rosy red Australian lamb chops or parmesan crusted veal medallions sauced with lemon caper butter.

The specials however sometimes veer into the bizarre. For example, on a recent visit oysters topped with whiskey gelee and caviar were neither raw nor baked and the whiskey harsher than a Jazz Fest hangover. But that hiccup aside, the kitchen turns out impressive food. Creamy lamb sweetbreads were separated from creamier grits by a crunchy crust of seasoned flour. Roast duck with braised celery and fingerling potatoes was a study in how the deep flavors of roast duck can make sitting in a duck blind at 4 a.m. sound like a good idea.

The dessert menu is written on a whiteboard which is paraded around the dining room as each entrée course comes to a close. Or you could embrace your inner Francophile by finishing with a cheese plate and digestif. You’ve waited this long for a table, you might as well hold onto it for a little while longer.

3127 Esplanade Ave. 504-945-5635. Wed.-Sat. 11a–3p, 6p-10p; Sun. 10:30a-3p, 6p-9:30p