Cochon is a wonderful restaurant, we all know this to be true. It’s almost a waste of time for me to write about it because, you all know and have heard over and over and over and over and over and over again about the fabulous Cochon Restaurant. You’ve heard it from local, national and even international media outlets and what is one more, puny, insignificant blog going to do?
It’s going to say it AGAIN!
A few weeks ago, John and I heard the squealing siren song all the way Uptown and could not longer resist it’s magnetic pull. It had been way too long since we’d been to Cochon.
We arrived a bit later in the afternoon and the restaurant was about half full. I had requested a table near the window when I made the reservations, but they were summarily ignored by the blasé hostess that seated us. Thankfully, she was not our server, though we remarked on her obliviousness and complete lack of enthusiasm or charisma during the course of our “gorge-fest” which made for entertaining lunchtime banter.
Instead of ordering any entrees, John and I just chose several small plates and sides. After a short wait, everything flooded out of the kitchen at once, the plates just kept coming. We had fried alligator with a spicy, chili-garlic aioli and a pork & black-eyed pea gumbo that was quickly inhaled and swabbed up with soft, buttery dinner rolls.
John had specifically requested a dish of grilled shrimp with white beans and tasso that he coveted in a corner of the table, but I made him share the pork cheeks with feta and fried sauerkraut cake. I know, I know, everyone raves about the pork cheek dishes at Cochon, but dammit…there’s good reason! We also had a massive, twice-stuffed baked potato that was creamy and cheesy and delicious…oh my…and an eggplant & broccoli casserole, both of which we couldn’t finish, despite how tasty, until we got home.
We finished off this fabulous meal with a huge slab of Malted-Milk Chocolate with a sour cream ganache created by Cochon’s pastry maestro, Rhonda Ruckman. John realized too late that he didn’t like malt so the whole wonderful slice was mine all mine. We really shouldn’t wait so long between visits.
