Shaya - New Orleans, LA

I am Eli Margot. Growling is my blog. This is my story about Shaya.

As if we were destined to eat at Alon Shaya’s namesake restaurant, my partner-in-dine and I walked confidently through the door at noon on a Saturday, sans reservations. From what we had heard, surely Shaya would take our taste buds on a supersonic transit back to Tel Aviv and the street foods of Israel we had come to love during our travels. Obviously, the stunningly attractive hostess, poised at her podium, knew that she and her co-workers were preparing to serve two aficionados of world cuisine and cultured travelers as she immediately escorted us through the chic dining room, adorned with graceful tea lights on rustic open shelves and sharp, clean lines.

Seated in the back courtyard as though we were visually evident of carrying some form of VD by that fat hostess, we told her that a meal under the Spring sun was superior to any table inside that AC’d coffin they called a dining room.  Tea lights? Really?

Our server arrived and soon thereafter our cocktails too. They were thoughtfully prepared and brilliantly refreshing; a welcomed treat as we began to sweat just as wildly as the vessel that held our beverages. Could there be any less shade out here? I thought.  Perhaps if Mr. Shaya had invested as much time and resources in his courtyard setting as he did in his precious tea lights.

As we finished our third bottle of water, wondering how long these heathens would make us endure this incorrigible heat, we carried on for the sake of finely prepared food. Starting out with only a few offerings on the tastefully printed lunch menu, our epic Israeli culinary tour began with tabouleh, baba ganoush, lutenitsa, Moroccan carrots and Ikra. The server brought us a pita so freshly baked from the hearth that it was still inflated with the heat and steam that gave it depth and character, and was delightfully reminiscent of the pizza dough at Domenica (another Shaya/Besh institution deserving of our admiration.  But we’ll get to Domenica another time). Each dish from the “For the Table” section of the menu tasted just as brilliant as it was brightly colored. With each bite we wondered how to consume it all with the little pita that was left. The server offered more and we graciously accepted.

Polishing off the first course, we moved on and ordered the Curried Fried Cauliflower over hummus, followed by lamb kebab and crispy halloumi.  The hummus, an ultra-fine consistency of finely sourced ingredients was wonderfully balanced and offset by the cauliflower that crowned it. Our server had mentioned bringing out more pita ages ago – maybe he’s warming it over those tea lights, I thought. The lamb kebab was equally as delicious as any we had eaten under the Israel sun and the halloumi was pleasantly paired with sweet pomegranate and crisp micro greens…that were quickly wilted under the torrent of UV rays and heat searing us in our seats.

Soon after finishing our light lunch, we were offered a dessert menu. The “Milk and Honey” arrived artfully presented along with two espressos. A cheesecake of lebnah dotted with granola and topped with a burnt honey ice cream, this dessert was indeed fitting for the meal we had just consumed. And a fine pairing for our espresso whose caffeine was surging through our veins intensifying the desire to ask if we might have a tour of the walk-in cooler. They could have bought a dozen misting-fans just with the wages they paid that hostess during our lunch, we told our server.  He chuckled, sinisterly, as though he knew that she hated us.

As lunch came to a close we departed Shaya through that claustrophobic dining room and found the hostess snuffing out the tea lights on those open shelves as the floor creaked beneath her stubby toes. Fitting and symbolic, I thought, that she should be the one to make dark where there was light. Walking past her, she darted to meet us at the door, opened it and politely begged that we come again soon apologizing that the dining room was booked solid when we arrived. Redemption, at last.

On another trip back to New Orleans, we made reservations at Shaya and were greeted graciously by the same hostess.  She sat us at a table deserving of our stature inside that exquisitely designed dining room.  Funny, I thought, that she had lost so much weight since our last visit.

More about Shaya

-E.Margot