Always blown away at Boucherie

Corned Pork Belly … be still my heart!

By now, I imagine I don’t have to tell anyone living within a 300 mile radius of New Orleans how good the eating is at Boucherie. Hell, I’m positive its reach is quite a bit further considering I no longer am surprised when out-of-towners seeking restaurant recommendations already have the Carrollton neighborhood restaurant on their “to-eat” list.  Keeping this in mind, it can’t hurt to offer up reminders every now and again, can it?

Though Boucherie moved from the cute, purple house on Jeanette Street to larger digs around the corner, it hasn’t made me love it any less. Who doesn’t enjoy watching the St. Charles Streetcar rumble by during lunch or dining al fresco on S. Carrollton’s wide sidewalks shaded by live oaks reaching out to each other across the avenue? Especially when you’re eating like this …

I can never resist ordering their huge-ass bowl of garlic-buttered French fries topped with a pile of melt-in-your-mouth tendrils of Parmesan Reggiano. John said they were going to be too much, and they were, but we still managed to eradicate well over half the bowl with only a few stragglers remaining by the end of the meal.

This picture doesn’t do the sandwich justice …

It’s always tough to decide what to order at Boucherie, do I fall on old favorites (like the French fries) till I can’t stand them anymore or try something new? This time, something new seemed like the only option. John had me order both entrees.  He knew we’d be splitting both plates anyhow, so for him I went with the Smoked Corned Pork Belly Reuben with sauerkraut, nutty Gruyere and a tangy Russian dressing served on their own marbled rye. Yes, it was exactly as awesome as it sounds.

For me? I was in a breakfast kind of mood, so I opted for the Open-Faced B.A.T. or bacon, arugula and tomato sandwich with fresh mozzarella. The bacon was Boucherie’s own salty, smoky, sensational creation (as well as the mozzarella) and the sandwich was topped with a perfectly-cooked, circulated egg. For me, perfect means a “wet” consistency to the whites and a fully liquid, golden dripping yolk that bursts when pierced gently with a fork. Can you tell I have a thing for eggs?

After every meal there, the idea that I don’t eat there nearly enough is reinforced tenfold. When was the last time you dined at Boucherie?

You may also like

Leave a Reply