I just love the environs of Cane and Table, it is one of the reasons I suggested my friend Raquel & I go for our first meal out together after recently reconnecting.
The space speaks to me; the distressed walls of the dining room, an outdoor stairwell, kitchen in the back beyond the stairs, and especially their private courtyard/patio all meld into an atmospheric old world environment that is subtle yet seductive. Raquel, a New Orleans native who moved away 30 years ago, had recently moved back, so the pressure was on. I wanted to share a place I have appreciated in the New Orleans dining scene that had popped up since she left. Just to make things more interesting, this was my first foray into dining out during the global covid-19 pandemic.
I knew this Caribbean influenced bar and restaurant had a notable selection of cocktails (they are a James Beard Foundation Outstanding Cocktail Program Semi-Finalist, after all) which I assumed would appeal to my comadre in eating & imbibing. True to her New Orleans roots, my girl enjoys a good, strong cocktail. She ordered the Mezcal Negroni, which is the classic Negroni with Campari & sweet vermouth but it substitutes a smoky mezcal for the gin. I honestly don’t remember her thoughts on the drink, but I know if it had been subpar I would have heard about it. I, however, do not have as hollow of a leg, so I started off with the sherry spritz. I chose something lighter, not only because I am a bit of a lightweight, but also in consideration of the double punch of the summer eve’s heat and humidity. Sherry, being from Spain, is part of the DNA of Caribbean cuisine. I feel like these drinks are a great example of what Cane and Table is setting out to do. The restaurant is described as “coastally inspired…marrying Caribbean flavors with Cuban influences.” I would go as far as calling it pan- Latin. At the bar, they incorporate spirits from all rum producing countries, including ones from Mexico and Spain that showed up in our drinks. Indeed, they are most well known for their various rum drinks, they craft “proto-tiki” inspired cocktails.
In these strange times of Covid, the dining arrangement was quite different. We donned our masks upon entry. We were directed to give our orders in the front dining area with the hostess, then to take our seats out in the patio. Masks were required when moving through the restaurant and to our outside table. The outdoor tables were mindfully distanced.
Shortly after sitting down with our drinks, our ordered watermelon salad and crispy brussels sprouts came out. The brussels had a lot of flavors and textures, first fried, then topped with crunchy marcona almonds pieces, creamy cotija cheese, an aioli, and habanero sauce. I am a sucker for Marcona almonds, having originally been introduced to them when living in Spain. Thirty years ago, pre–globalization, I used to lovingly pack them to bring back stateside and share as the precious, special occasion, treats they were, so I’m thrilled they are far more common and available today. I had never considered using Brussels sprouts in Latin cuisine, but the flavors worked and the heat of the habanero was a departure for a dish that seems otherwise fairly ubiquitous on menus today. Decadent and delightful; I loved this dish!
The Watermelon salad was a welcomed, lighter counterpart. The jalapeño vinaigrette had a lot going on, citrusy, a nice not overpowering heat, and with an almost nutty flavor the source of which I could not quite identify, I’m still curious what hidden ingredient produced it. It was topped with frisee and crumbled cheese. Despite being an admitted skeptic of sweet & savory flavor combos, I truly liked this dish. One of the great things about dining with someone else is getting to eat something not on your prescribed list of preferred flavors, stretching your repertoire by trying something new.
The grand finale for us were the Crispy Braised Ribs. Placed on top of a generous portion of rice & peas, four ribs sat alongside a serving of Pikliz. Pikliz is a Haitian style cabbage, carrot & chile condiment akin to a slaw. It has a vinegary bite that cuts the fat of the ribs and brings the whole dish together. I would have liked more of the Pikliz, mostly because I would have eaten less of the rice and peas. Common in Caribbean cuisine, “rice and peas” is a mixture with a lot a rice and just a smattering of beans. The rice and peas tasted of abuela’s cooking; classic, homey and good. The nouvelle twist for the plate was the toothsome fatty ribs- yum. There was a habanero hot sauce as well, but it was expertly incorporated so it did not overpower.
Our server was extremely affable and his friendliness enhanced the purposely less hands on Covid dining experience. The vibe is casual enough to be comfortable sharing drinks with friends, or perfectly acceptable for a fancier upscale date night. There is a range of dress on display, although, tank tops and flip flops would be out of place.
The Chef, Alfredo Nogueira, is a New Orleanian of Cuban descent. The Cuba connections run deep in the Crescent City. Here’s a little history; during the Spanish period of colonial Louisiana, 1763-1802, New Orleans’ big boss was Madrid, Spain. But the chain of command went from Madrid to Havana, then on to New Orleans. In essence, we were the underlings in all military, government and religious matters- the religion was Catholic, of course. Almost two centuries later New Orleans and Cuba still maintained a robust trade relationship. In the late 1940s and 1950s, New Orleans Mayor “Chep” Morrision visited Cuba several times and the mayors of Havana visited our city, fortifying economic ties. In the 1950s, about one third of New Orleans’ exports were destined for Cuba. Mainly these consisted of food items, things like flour and rice (but of course!, for the aforementioned eponymous rice and beans). But the Crescent City had many Cuban imports as well, particularly unrefined sugar, molasses and tobacco. On the eve of the 1959 Cuban Revolution, these economic bonds were strong. When the new regime’s leader, Fidel Castro, came into power, New Orleans wanted to keep the trade going. Castro was twice invited to visit the Crescent City, although he declined, noting a busy schedule but he implied he would come in the future.
When things started to change on the island post revolution, many Cubans left. Miami was not the only city to receive an influx of Cubanos when people started to leave the island during the socio- political upheaval, New Orleans experienced waves of Cuban immigrants as well, albeit smaller. My fellow diner, Raquel herself, is the daughter of Cuban immigrant that arrived to New Orleans in 1961. Her dad and his parents first lived in the French Quarter and operated a small business there.
All this intriguing history is one of the reasons that I love that Cane and Table sits inside the Vieux Carre. Architecturally speaking, the French Quarter could be more accurately called the “Spanish Quarter,” and I can hear the subtle whispering of the past whenever I am there, which makes it the perfect setting for Cane and Table’s modern approach to Caribbean flavors. And, these days the Quarter hosts many more commercialized eateries specializing in capturing the tourist trade, along with the well known, old line grand dames. Cane & Table is a welcomed departure, appreciated by and drawing in locals as well as tourists. It can be tricky to find, quietly tucked in between more boisterous places on Decatur Street in the lower Quarter, but it is well worth the visit.