Wow. Last night, we ate at Commander’s Palace–and it’s as good as ever. The food was fantastic, the service attentive but not obnoxious, the remodeled interior delightful. They were able to get my husband’s steak cooked the way he liked it; my fish was so flaky and tender that I couldn’t stop eating it even after I was stuffed. It was sweet and wonderful and romantic, and we were the second to last people to leave. Yet we never felt rushed; our servers (Commander’s Palace uses a team approach and it works) made us feel as though we could have spent the night there.

My first experience with CP was way back in 1974, the year the Brennans took the restaurant over from the Morans. My soon-to-be husband (my ex, now) and I took our $164.00 tax refund and used it for a week’s vacation in New Orleans. Even back then, $164.00 didn’t go far in that city. We camped in a state park north of Lake Ponchartrain, ate cheaply, and pinched pennies.

But one night, we decided to splurge, and made a reservation (from a pay phone) at CP. We put on our best duds, and showed up at the restaurant, inappropriately dressed, and obviously young and out-of-place. It would have been totally legitimate for them to seat us at some back table near the kitchen. And we wouldn’t have known that were were being treated shabbily.

But instead they gave us one of their best tables. It was in the garden, right by a fountain that had a big turtle swimming in it, and they treated us like royality. I even remember what I ate: turtle soup, flounder stuffed with crabmeat, and and dessert–Baked Alaska, which was flambed at the table by our server. I remember her, too–a middle-aged lady who ladled the flaming liquor across the table cloth in a fantastic display of showmanship. We shared a bottle of wine, and then, with trepidation, asked for the bill.

It came to $25.00. That’s all, and even back then, that was way, way too little, and we recognized it, even in our naievety. (Although that was a huge chunk of our entire budget.) When we asked about it, the manager said it was their way of welcoming us to New Orleans–and inviting us to come back.

From that moment on, CP has held a warm place in my heart, and I’ve made it a point to eat there every time I visit New Orleans. It’s always been great, no matter the circumstances. I’ve never had a bad meal or a bad time there. And that’s something to say about a restaurant over a span of 30 years. Chefs (including Paul Prudhomme and Emeril Lagasse) have come and gone, the service staff have obviously turned over several times (our servers this trip weren’t even born back in 1974), but the restaurant remains a bastion of great food and service. I have to attribute that to Ella Brennan, who has ruled the place for as long as I’ve been going there. And I learned that she lives in a house right behind the restaurant.

So forgive me, John Besh, but you’ve got a ways to go to match up to Commander’s Palace!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 19th, 2008 at 8:18 am and is filed under Life Musings, Travel and Food. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.