Not so Cochon in New Orleans’ Warehouse District. At this wildly popular little sister restaurant to Herbsaint, I had a terrfic dining experience with some good friends last week. Situated on the corner of Andrew Higgins Drive across the street from a Shell gas station and a manufacturing plant at the far end of Tchoupitoulas Street, Cochon is one place that perfectly matches a distinctive regional cuisine to a fresh approach. One wouldn’t describe the food as “haute” or “contemporary”—just thrivingly updated Southern cooking with authenticity intact.
As we know, “cochon” means pig in French, and here it also means Fudge Farm. Just north of Birmingham, Ala., that’s the source of Cochon’s pig. And these are raised to be the happiest pigs in America, practically waiting to be cooked and sliced and laid on a pan of creamed corn. Or so my waitress told me. The emphasis here is on small plates. You really could try just about everything on the menu in three or four nights. (First, of course, you’ll have to stop grabbing the piping hot potato roll biscuits and settle down to ordering.) The roasted corn cafa, a sort of crunchy corn pancake served on an heirloom tomato salad, becomes livelier and more delicious by the bite. The grilled shrimp was moist, offered with a pickled vegetable—the place calls that “chow-chow”—that amplifies and multiplies the flavors.
And then the alligator! It’s cut into small pieces—which, to someone from out of town, is a relief—breaded, grilled to a nice chewiness and lubricated with a dollop of lightly spiced aioli. Rabbit liver may not be your first choice of appetizer—I’m not one for offal or organs—but it might be once you’ve tasted it atop some pepper jelly toast. The entrees are not substantially larger than the smaller dishes, but you won’t be left unsatisfied. I had the cochon, matted and braised, with a small pile of turnips, cabbage and cracklins. The oyster and bacon sandwich on a hard-crusted pullman bread was also a hit: the oyster and bacon sang to each other like a Cajun fiddle and accordion.
And what did we drink among all these plates? Two bottles each of the Domaine Gros’ Noré Bandol Rosé and the 2006 Champalou Vouvray. Cochon’s is a well-chosen, reasonably priced wine list with a global perspective. Many of the producers farm organically. The most interesting wines I found to be among the higher-priced ones, and French—well, this is Louisiana—though no bottle sold for more than $150. Most notable whites were the Dom. Ostertag “Fronzholz” Pinot Gris, Dom. Weinbach “Cuvée Theo” and the savory Meursault by Pierre Morey. Among the reds was a small but outstanding assortment of Burgundies and Rhones, all among the higher-end offerings. I’d stay with the Hudelot-Noellat Bourgogne and the strong, seductive Joncier Lirac, depending on your meal.
Even better were the select wines next door at Butcher—a little deli-wine bar offshoot of Cochon—more affordable and interesting, and by the bottle or glass. Like the Ch. Thivin Côte de Brouilly and the Ch. la Liquière rosé from Faugeres. By the way, rosés, with their appealing versatility, pair superbly with this Southern fare and your wallet.
August 28, 2009
Billy,
I like your blog’s layout. As for New Orleans, I’ve never been there but I have a friend who raves about it. I look forward to heading down and trying the gator one day.
Ryan