The New York Times

CHOICE TABLES: NEW ORLEANS; In Creole Kichens, Chefs Mix Cultures and Stir Well
By Julia Reed

Published: February 20, 2005

When Thackeray came to New Orleans just before the Civil War, he pronounced it ''the old Franco-Spanish city on the banks of the Mississippi, where, of all the cities in the world, you can eat the most and suffer the least.''

It was certainly a mecca of haute cuisine. As early as the 1790's Louis Phillippe was served fresh shrimp on plates of solid gold at a sugar planter's River Road plantation; in 1840, Antoine's, now one of the country's longest-running family-owned restaurants, opened its doors and would later name oysters Rockefeller after John D. because the dish was as rich as he was. Arnaud's and Galatoire's soon followed, and all three still serve versions of that great contribution to American cuisine, creole food.

A Creole technically means a white descendant of Louisiana's earliest French settlers, but creole cooking is anything but pure. An amalgam of New Orleans's diverse culture, its foundation is French of course (gumbo has roots in bouillabaisse; rémoulade, bordelaise and hollandaise sauces are still immensely popular), but strong contributions were also made by: the Spanish, who took over the colony from the French in 1763; the Italians, who had already taught many of the French chefs in their home country thanks to Catherine de Medici; the Africans, who brought over okra and who replaced French chefs in homes as well as the professional kitchen; the West Indian slaves, who brought exotic peppers and other ingredients like mirlitons; and native Americans, whose powdered sassafras leaves were used to thicken gumbo.

Cajuns, who were granted refuge in southwest Louisiana by the Spanish, had their own separate culture and cuisine that relied heavily on wild game and shellfish and one-pot meals such as étouffées and fricasees, and they in turn were influenced by German settlers, small farmers who brought with them their tradition of fine sausage making and raising and curing their own meats.

In the 1970's, when Paul Prudhomme brought his brand of Cajun cooking a few hours east to New Orleans, Cajun specialties that hadn't already appeared on Creole menus began creeping into the mix.

These days Prudhomme's K-Paul's is still going strong, as are the aforementioned creole mainstays, but -- at the risk of infuriating local die-hards -- it must be said that the latter no longer do justice to Thackeray's description. (The brown sludge that passes for oysters Rockefeller on most days at Antoine's and Galatoire's would infuriate its namesake.)

Fortunately, an extremely talented group of young chefs is reinvigorating the city's reputation at other restaurants across the city (notably John Besh at August, John Harris at Lilette, Mathias Wolf at Gautreau's and Anton Schulte at La Petite Grocery), but not all of them are interested in local traditions or even local ingredients. It's often hard to remember what coast you're on as wild salmon, bay scallops and Alaskan oysters abound.

HERBSAINT

Herbsaint is named after the locally made anise-flavored liqueur, but the gifted and enthusiastic chef Donald Link has roots in Acadia Parish. His menu, then, is a sort of modern creole: the game and sausages of Cajun cuisine crossed with classical French and Italian.

Rabbit fricassee is served with homemade pappardelle and wild mushrooms; silken rabbit croquettes accompany an arugula-and-endive salad with a creole mustard vinaigrette. There is roast suckling pig au jus with white beans, the charcuterie plate is all house-made, and at one recent lunch the amuse bouche was home-smoked pork sausage with apple and beet slaw made by Mr. Link's German sous-chef.

This does not mean you should skip the seafood, especially the properly murky daily gumbo, or the lunch offering of catfish sauce piquante.

A side dish of perfect French fries bows to Spain with its accompaniment of pimentón aïoli -- and the amazing desserts are a bow to pure New Orleans decadence. Not to miss: the warm chocolate beignets, the banana brown butter tart with fleur de sel caramel sauce, and the sorbets, including local satsuma.

The refreshingly simple surroundings and well-edited wine list (with lots of good stuff including a range of sherries by the glass) belie one of the most complex and delicious menus in town. Stay tuned for Mr. Link's second endeavor, with a Cajun boucherie on the premises, opening in the fall.

Herbsaint, 701 St. Charles Avenue, (504) 524-4114. Open Monday to Friday for lunch and dinner; Saturday dinner only. At lunch, soups and salads range from $6 to $9; small plates, $8 to $12, and main courses, $11 to $14; at dinner, soups and salads are $6 to $9; small plates, $9 to $12, and main courses, $14 to $26. Reservations recommended. Smoking at the bar only.

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