Lüke Restaurant by John Besh
333 Saint Charles Ave
New Orleans, LA
(504) 378-2840
www.lukerestaurant.com
Since I was nearly shut out the previous night, I made sure to get to Lüke early. Being a single (on this trip), I plopped amidst wide open bar stools at 6:30 on a Friday night. Tomas, my bartender, a native New Mexican and recent Manhattan refuge, obliged to make me a Sazerac. There just isn’t anywhere else in the country where you can get this drink, and watch the bartender carefully prepare a cocktail of sugar, water, Pernod (absinthe classically), a mix of bitters, Rye whiskey, and a twist. One sip and I knew I was back.
Lüke (named for the chef’s favorite German beer garden) is a brasserie, a casual European-style gathering place, that runs in contrast to Restaurant August and Besh Steak, John Besh’s other, more formal New Orleans’ restaurants. Thoughtful details testify to the complexity of the concept, with belt-driven fans mounted in the foiled ceiling, newspaper racks, and dishes served on cutting boards. Whole crabs and muscles sit at one corner of the bar, iced and ready to be served.
I optioned for the Crab Maison to start, a crab salad that the chef’s wife always orders it when she comes in. It was lumpy, creamy and rich, and came topped with some delightfully bitter greens that helped cut through the richness. It was served with a small copper kettle of char toasts for scooping.
I called for a glass of dry Chardonnay to accompany my first course, and it was served in a basic table glass. This seemed to fit the laid back theme of the restaurant, but I asked my bartenders what they would call the glass. In a city where professional pourers know their barware better than most of us know the contents of our pockets, these guys could not come up with a name for the glass. “I don’t know,” I told them. “It looks like grandma’s milk glass.” And it did, yet it held a $10 glass of Sonoma Chard, typical of the experience.
Croque Madame at Lüke
For my main course, there were several selections that were tempting, not including the organ-meat or blood sausage entrees suggested by my server. “I enjoy new tastes, but I’m not that determined.” I eventually opted for a classic Croque Monsieur. The Croque Madame was also on the menu, but I just didn’t feel like I needed a fried egg on top of my ham and cheese.
I ordered the house Luke Alt beer with my entree, and it proved to be the perfect accompaniment. While I’m a Colorado hop head who craves IPAs and scoffs at lagers, this Alt was full bodied, tasty, and held up to the richness of the sandwich without infringing on the flavor.
The sandwich came, along with a silvery chalice stuffed high with frites (fries). Stiff white bread sandwiched hearty slices of home-grown ham (from Besh’s personal farm) and melted Ementhaler cheese both inside and broiled onto the top. The effect of the ham was sweet, the cheese nutty, and the bread somehow withstood the grease and juice and avoided any sogginess. However, it was a bit like eating a stick of butter and I couldn’t justify finishing it.
I left with a greasy chin, a head buzzing from good booze and breezy conversation, and a wallet with a lot more heft than if I had been to one of Besh’s other fine spots. And I made it in time to catch Game 2 of the Red Sox vs. the Angels.
Bryan Fryklund
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