Cochon

»In Lard We Trust

I love pig; I have a t-shirt that says “I [heart] Bacon”. This being the case, I had to visit Cochon in New Orleans’ Warehouse District – the name means “pig” in French. I had expected it to be slightly more formal, but was surprised to find one wide-open space with tables throughout, a bar near the front, and the kitchen counter in the back. The host’s stand was somewhat oddly positioned right...+READ I love pig; I have a t-shirt that says “I [heart] Bacon”. This being the case, I had to visit Cochon in New Orleans’ Warehouse District – the name means “pig” in French. I had expected it to be slightly more formal, but was surprised to find one wide-open space with tables throughout, a bar near the front, and the kitchen counter in the back. The host’s stand was somewhat oddly positioned right in front of a table, but the exposed brick walls and honey-colored wood tables and chairs made me feel warmly welcome.

As I was dining alone, I walked over to the bar and asked one of the patrons if anyone was sitting in the empty seat next to him. “You are!” he said with a smile. I seated myself, and was immediately asked by the bartender whether I was eating or drinking. I said “Oh, both!” He laughed, gave me a place setting, and handed me both food and drink menus. I asked the man next to me what he had ordered. “Lima beans,“ he said. He didn’t give me a chance to look skeptical, as he hastened to inform me that these weren’t just plain old lima beans, these were magical delicious lima beans infused with bacon-y goodness. I thought, “Even the lima beans have bacon in them – outstanding!”

Most everything on Cochon’s menu looks tempting, and many items feature delicious pig: spicy grilled pork ribs with watermelon pickle, Louisiana cochon with turnips, cabbage, and cracklins – even the bitter green salad has pig ears in it. I asked the bartender, Matthew, what he recommended, and told him of my love affair with pork. He said the Louisiana cochon was a kitchen specialty, and pointed out that the man to my left was in the middle of eating that very dish. I took one look and said “Sold!” I chose to forego appetizers in anticipation of the pig that was shortly to fill my stomach.

With food decided, I turned to the second most important element: drink. I have one terrible restriction when it comes to alcohol – no vodka. As you can imagine, this cuts out a lot of specialty cocktails. I settled on the Country Plumkin, which was Sauza Silver, muddled plums, and Blenheim ginger ale. I felt the drink could have been better balanced, as the tequila taste was a little stronger than I preferred, but the muddled plums lent a novel touch, and the flavor was decent. Overall, though, I wouldn’t order it again.

My cochon arrived quicker than I expected, and I dug in with relish. The pulled pork was tender and flavorful, and the turnips and cabbage added just the right amount of bitterness and crunch. I made sure to compose each forkful of the correct ratio of pig, turnips, and cabbage, while interspersing bites of cracklins. I demolished the dish, and hunted forlornly through the remaining scraps of cabbage for more porky bits when I was done.

I was fairly full, but decided to look at the dessert menu just for fun. My neighbor who’d ordered the cochon had gotten a root beer float, made with local brewery Abita’s root beer, which is sweetened with pure cane sugar. While that sounded intriguing, I was won over by Matthew’s recommendation of the pineapple upside down cake. I was shortly presented with a scoop of pineapple upside down cake drizzled with dulce de leche, accompanied by a scoop of coconut lime sorbet. The cake was phenomenal, definitely the highlight of the meal – and given how I feel about pork, that’s saying a lot. I spent the next four days raving about the dessert to anyone who would listen.

My check totaled $77, including tax and a 20% tip. New Orleans law allows you to take your drinks to go in plastic cups, but I absent-mindedly left my drink behind when I walked out. Though the drink had been only mediocre, delicious pork, a dynamite dessert, friendly patrons, and prompt and courteous service all added up to a fantastic meal at Cochon. I was so pleased with the experience that I even bought the t-shirt: a large pig logo on the front with the words “In Lard We Trust”. Strolling satisfied down the street, the taste of the wondrous pineapple upside down cake lingered delightfully as I made my way into the steamy New Orleans night.-COLLAPSE / REPLY (1 Reply) (by kallisti, created July 15, 2010)

AinA- I had the most amazing soft shell crab (pan fried) of my life at Cochon last time I was in NOLA, and am visiting again in a week and am praying to the culinary gods that they will have it on the menu again. It's worth a call to see if they'll have it...if they don't, I'll be calling GW Fins to try and find some!
Good luck! REPLY (4 Replies) (by jennytoad, created April 30, 2010)

Apparently, a trip to New Orleans is an obligatory race to see how many calories one can intake, how high one can boost their cholesterol, in the course of their stay. The only prize is the satisfaction of one’s own gluttony.

My trip happened to be four days short, and it was with four days-worth of cream, butter, pork fat, and bourbon coursing through my veins that I decided to go for the...+READ Apparently, a trip to New Orleans is an obligatory race to see how many calories one can intake, how high one can boost their cholesterol, in the course of their stay. The only prize is the satisfaction of one’s own gluttony.

My trip happened to be four days short, and it was with four days-worth of cream, butter, pork fat, and bourbon coursing through my veins that I decided to go for the whole hog.

To fortify me for my finale, a high-class stripper act for the lovely TSA officers at MSY, I swung by Cochon, Donald Link’s super-hyped gastrobutchery (that’s what I’m calling it), for a quick lunch before heading to the airport.

Having spent my friends’ appetites on a string of indulgent meals (*amateurs*), I went alone.

Arriving a bit early, I ducked into Cochon Butcher, the restaurant’s charcuterie and sandwich shop next door, for a look.

Cochon Butcher is small. There are about four high tops and a counter along one wall with stools. There’s a modestly sized refrigerated case of house-made products (packaged and ready for sale) and a walk-up cashier station beneath a giant chalkboard menu dominated by meaty selections.

Apparently, Cochon doesn’t serve any of Cochon Butcher’s charcuterie. So I talked myself into snacking on a plate of Cochon Butcher’s house-made meat products (“Charcuterie” $14).

The charcuterie selection here changes often. Thoughtfully assembled, the meats are garnished with some excellent pickles (more sweet than salty or sour); grainy mustard; fat, marinated green olives; and crispy, thin flatbread flocked with sesame seeds.

My plate consisted of about half a dozen thinly shaved slices of each chorizo and spicy fennel sausages. Both were well-made, though I liked the fennel sausage more. Speckled with pockets of white fat, it had a full, rounded flavor with an aggressive bite.

There were also just as many slices of duck prosciutto, which were cut just a little thicker than the sausages. With a full rind of soft fat, the strips of prosciutto – made from the breast – were much more tender than waxy, though shockingly salty.

The little cup of pork rillette, thick and flavorful, was also good, especially spread on the flatbread with mustard.

* * * *

Like Cochon Butcher, Cochon is minimally designed. Preferring wood to metal, the place looks like it might have been sponsored by IKEA, making it the perfect backdrop for the yuppies that filtered through over the noon hour.

At Cochon, I ordered six dishes – all first courses – and a dessert. I’m sure my server thought me mad, but played it cool. It was a considerable amount of food for one person.

The first set of three dishes that arrived were the best.

The “Wood Fire Oyster Roast” was excellent. Five to an order, these large oysters were fat and juicy, bursting with oyster liquor. Coated in a spicy chili butter and served warm, they were delicious, by far the most memorable dish of the day.

Chef Donald Link’s personal take on a Southern classic, the “Fried Boudin” yielded three large croquettes, each with a golden, crisp breaded exterior. If I’m not mistaken, Link braises pork in water (not stock) and mixes the cooked meat with rice and seasonings. I half-expected the interior to be wet and slightly mushy like an arancino. Instead, the even mixture of rice flecked with pork was surprisingly light and fluffy. It was like a very fancy version of a hush puppy, though it was a bit less flavorful than I had expected.

The lightly dressed “Bitter Greens” salad was a little over-seasoned, but otherwise very good. The greens (a variety including mizuna and arugula) were pert and fresh, topped with creamy goat cheese and dotted with soft pieces of tasso ham coated with dressing. Although there were supposed to be pecans in the salad, I encountered none. The best part of this salad were the pumpkin calas that anchored three corners of the plate. These savory fritters were wonderful. Cochon should considering adding a bowl of these calas as a side dish.

The remaining dishes ranged from mediocre to disappointing.

The chili-garlic aioli coating the pieces of “Fried Alligator” was good, but, like most alligator I’ve had, the meat was tough and sinewy. I admit that this may not be a fault of the dish, but rather a matter of personal taste.

The “Fried Rabbit Livers” were terribly dry and chalky, a reminder why so many shy from livers. It’s a pity, because everything else on the plate was wonderful, especially the sweet pepper jelly, which had a devilish bite.

A pasty with a meticulously crimped edge, the “Oyster & Meat Pie” sported a wonderfully soft, flaky pastry crust. The filling – a mixture of rice, chopped pork, and minced oysters – was more akin to what I thought the inside of the fried boudin would be like – wet and slightly mushy. Unfortunately, for having both pork and oysters in it, it was shockingly flavorless, relying on the spoonful of zesty, tomato-based condiment for excitement.

Like the Fried Boudin, the “Warm Hog Head Cheese” had a beautiful, fried crust. But the interior – a jumble of meat, collagen, and fat – was cold and stiff, not at all the melting seduction I was expecting. It tasted as if the square of pre-breaded head cheese had just been pulled from the icebox and deep-fried just long enough for the crust to cook. The creamy ravigote was bland; it lacked the balance of acidity and salt that the delicious, accompanying bean salad had.

You won’t find anything terribly creative on the dessert menu here. It’s a short and sweet survey of Americana, the type of simple desserts that I tend to like. There’s Root Beer Float, Mississippi Mud Cake, and “Pineapple Upside Down Cake,” which I ordered.

Buttery, sticky, and caramelized, the dome of cornmeal cake was very good. But there was hardly any pineapple caramelized on the turned-over bottom for this dessert to earn its name. The accompanying coconut-lime sorbet, dices of ripe pineapple, and a lovely dulce de leche sauce were fantastic together. They could have served this tropical trio in a bowl, labeled it “Argentinian pina colada,” and called it a day.

Cochon has been universally praised. Enthusiasm for this restaurant and its food seems unbridled. It has developed a cult following.

I don’t get it.

Or, perhaps, I do. In an age where the words “pork” and “fat” – especially when used together – have become a clichéd cue for obligatory excitement and cheer, it’s not surprising that a restaurant named Cochon would cause such mouth-foaming

What is surprising, however, is that I found myself at a restaurant named Cochon marveling at the oysters and accusing its pork of being bland.

It’s apparent that Cochon puts a great deal of care into its craft. There’s an emphasis on high-quality and fresh ingredietns. Everything was well-crafted, well-plated, and thoughtfully composed. I especially enjoyed the use of fresh mint to temper the spiciness of some of the dishes (it was wilted into tumble of alligator nuggets and perched atop the fried rabbit livers). What Cochon did well, it did very well.

But none of the dishes I tried was anything that couldn’t be found in dozens of good restaurants around the country, or even in New Orleans.

Although I didn’t get to sample any of their main courses, I’d be more inclined to return for the restaurant’s bread rolls, which were like a hybrid between a good Parker House and a well-crusted brioche (i.e. lots of butter), and the service, which was helpful, efficient, and warm.

I understand that mistakes happen. At my meal, unfortunately, there were a few. The head cheese could have been thawed out a little longer before going in the fryer. The rabbit livers could has used a little less time in heat. And I wish that the salt in my salad could have been redistributed throughout the other dishes.-COLLAPSE / REPLY (36 Replies) (by ulterior epicure, created February 5, 2010)

»Tasty Pig

Wonderful pork! The service was wonderful, our server was very knoweledgeable about the menu and we felt very comfortable with him handling us. He had a huge bushy red beard and he was awesome. He recommended the cochon and "gulf fish" which were amazing! Pulled pork and a redfish? What a wonderful combination! ... Boo-Ya!!!!! (by eatadick, created November 27, 2009)