And, indeed, it does look…nice. It reminds you of New Orleans in the same way that the Rose and Crown pub at EPCOT reminds you of England. Cleaner, newer, sanitized, accessible.

“It’s a prom night place,” I say, eyes fixed on the congested road ahead. And it is–perhaps a step up from Carrabba’s, Copeland’s is the kind of place frequented by teenagers of the upper-middle class, rolling up in rented limos (wait…you didn’t get a limousine on prom night? It’s OK, neither did I) or their parents’ freshly waxed Camrys. Inside, there’s the din that would be expected in a restaurant the size of Copeland’s. It’s not what someone would call “intimate,” and that’s alright, since intimacy isn’t too high on the high schooler’s list of restaurant must-haves.

Copeland’s was a place that I myself always seemed to overlook. Maybe I was just being snobby, but my idea of a special occasion dinner for grown-ups usually involves Line Avenue, not Youree Drive. My expensive taste, coupled with a desire to patronize locally-owned businesses whenever possible, didn’t really leave any room for a place like Copeland’s.

But you know? I had my 21st birthday lunch (less than five years ago) at The Cheesecake Factory. With its cartoonishly proportioned architecture, American-sized servings, and focused emphasis on cheesecake, The Cheesecake Factory is really just Copeland’s without the Creole accent. And heck, if I thought The Cheesecake Factory was good enough for a milestone birthday, then surely Copeland’s is good enough for similar celebrations. In fact, maybe that same oversized, opulent quality, that same whimsy, is exactly the point. Maybe these restaurants need an upgrade from “guilty pleasure” to just “pleasure.”

A day at EPCOT isn’t any less enjoyable because their countries are watered-down, climate-controlled versions of the real thing; instead, that scrubbed-up, family-friendly quality might actually be part of the fun.

Just this week, I attended a PR lunch at Copeland’s, in honor of the unveiling of their “new and improved” restaurant. After undergoing a $1 million renovation, everything about the Bert Kouns location seems to be new: new management, new decor, and a new approach to their food with fresher ingredients and proprietary recipes. Al Copeland Jr., who made an appearance, explained that the renovation aims to bridge the gap between the food at Copeland’s and the atmosphere. Once dissonant, with no discernible identity, the new decor at Copeland’s is a bit sleeker, more up-to-date, and has a distinctive New Orleans theme. They’re also introducing a Sunday (live!) jazz brunch, to be held each week from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.

My sample-sized portion of bananas foster cheesecake.

Since I wasn’t a paying customer during this visit, I won’t be doing a real review. But if you already liked Copeland’s, this is a good excuse to pay them a visit. And if, like me, you were dubious, let go of your pretense and your self-inflicted shame. Invent a special occasion and order yourself a 6-inch tall slice of bananas foster cheesecake. It may not be haute cuisine, it may not be “authentic” (whatever that means), and it’s definitely not kitschy enough to be ironic. But it’s damn delicious.

To borrow the words from my friend Tony Bourdain, “Good is just good. It doesn’t matter when or why.”

Copeland’s of New Orleans

1665 E. Bert Kouns Industrial Loop

318-797-0143

www.copelandsofneworleans.com

Well, two things. First, you probably have, but ignored it. Until recently, the building was just another rundown garage, blending into the charming, tree-lined scenery where Broadmoor and South Highlands overlap.

Secondly, it’s not a garage at all. Well, not an operating one, anyway. It’s Marilynn’s Place, a new Cajun/Creole restaurant that features “organic when feasible, local when possible” food. It’s been generating some buzz among the under-40 set who seem to be drawn to quirky, locally-owned businesses with liquor licenses. “Out-of-the-way” is a spectacular understatement, and perhaps that’s part of its appeal. With no exterior signage or marketing to speak of, it feels like an indulgent secret–like only those “in the know”  (perhaps accompanied by a misguided few who simply needed oil changes), have been lucky enough to darken the doorway.

I’ve been to Marilynn’s Place a few times, now, and though service is consistently good, the food can be iffy. The restaurant takes a “fast casual” approach: order at the counter, and either wait for your name to be called, or for an employee to bring it to your table. I’ve had both happen, so I’m not sure what the typical protocol is for them. The menu itself is kind of a mixed bag. Familiar south Louisiana specialties like shrimp creole and jambalaya share space with a vegan brownie and a slow-cooked pork po’boy accented with pineapple.

The pork po’boy is listed on the menu as the cochon de lait. The term cochon de lait is usually applied to a traditional Cajun pig roast. Perhaps that ritual is the inspiration for Marilynn’s sandwich, but, as the first item I tried there, it left a lot to be desired. I was initially drawn to the pineapple salsa aspect of it. Pork and pineapple are a classic Caribbean pairing, and I knew the flavors would work well. However, when I received the sandwich–unfussily wrapped in butcher paper and masking tape–it was a soggy wreck. I was able to take exactly one bite before the bread disintegrated and I was forced to tackle it with a knife and fork. By then, the remaining bread had become an unappetizing paste. I poked around in the filling, which, admittedly, was very good.

Cochon de lait po'boy

The pork was tender and juicy, and the pineapple brightened things up. But I wouldn’t go down that road again–I had to go spelunking in order to get a forkful worth eating. The price, $7.95 for a half sandwich only, felt like a ripoff when all was said and done. (As an aside, I’ve been told that sometimes po’boys are messy–that’s the idea. But, in my opinion, once the services of a knife and fork are necessitated, a sandwich ceases to be a sandwich, and should market itself correctly. Soggy bread really isn’t my thing.)

In an uncharacteristic twist, my companion played it safe with an order of curry fried catfish. This was catfish done right: its curry-kissed cornmeal breading encased flaky, tender catfish–no hints of freezer or dirt flavors to be found anywhere. (Seriously, we’re in a sad state when people start to associate catfish with freezer burn and mud.) It’s served with its standard accompaniments of hush puppies, fries, and slaw. And while $11.95 would seem a bit steep for a plate of fried food, the quality of the fish and the size of the portion makes it worth it.

On our subsequent visits, we also ventured into traditional territory–shrimp creole, crawfish etouffee, and jambalaya were all sampled, as well as a side of dirty rice (because, clearly, our meals just didn’t have enough carbs). The jambalaya and etouffee lean towards the Cajun method of preparation, with less of an emphasis on tomatoes and more on meat. The jambalaya featured big, generous chunks of andouille–quite a treat when compared to the glorified rice some places try to pass off as jambalaya. The shrimp creole was rich and warming. Though I got the feeling that the shrimp weren’t as fresh as they could be, it hit the spot nonetheless. Living 250 miles inland, I’ll take what I can get.

The dirty rice, with a light sheen of grease and the perfect amount of heat, was some of the most flavorful I’ve ever had.

Curried catfish platter

A third companion chose the William Edward Joyce (WEJ) curried catfish po’boy.  Now this was a po’boy I could get behind. The drier filling (the same curried catfish that comes on the platter) ensured that the bread stayed intact, and a thin layer of mayo kept it from entering cotton ball territory. The menu claims it’s “so good it needs a publicist!” Though I wouldn’t go that far, it’s certainly a damn good choice when you’re craving something a little more satisfying than a few Mrs. Paul’s popcorn shrimp tossed on a hoagie roll.

Other items that piqued my interest are the veggie po’boy, dressed with hummus (perhaps that vegan brownie would make a nice little playmate), the shrimp remoulade salad, and the Irish Channel po’boy–with corned beef and cabbage!

With a nice selection of beer and an atmosphere conducive to lingering (something tells me the deck out front will be very popular once the weather turns tolerable), Marilynn’s Place will no doubt be a hit with locals looking for decent, homemade food right in their own backyards–if they can find it, that is.

Marilynn’s, I implore you. Invest in a sign. Maybe you’re trying to be subversive, riding on the coattails of pop-up restaurants and underground dinner clubs. Or maybe you’re just lazy. I don’t know. But it would be a terrible shame to see a good business go under because they didn’t know how to market. Word of mouth can only do so much.

Although, so far, it seems to be working for Marilynn’s.

Marilynn’s Place

4041 Fern Avenue

318-868-3004

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Marilynns-Place/160460130668886

]]> http://savoringshreveport.wordpress.com/2011/09/26/marilynns-place/feed/ 1 savoringshreveport Looks can be deceiving... Plate o' brown http://savoringshreveport.wordpress.com/2011/09/01/on-food-deserts-and-beer/ http://savoringshreveport.wordpress.com/2011/09/01/on-food-deserts-and-beer/#comments Thu, 01 Sep 2011 16:49:26 +0000 savoringshreveport http://savoringshreveport.wordpress.com/?p=152 Continue reading →]]> According to the CDC, “food deserts” are areas that “lack access to affordable fruits, vegetables, whole grains, low-fat milk, and other foods that make up the full range of a healthy diet.” If this seems like an alien concept in overfed America, consider the recent Shreveport Times article that estimated 1/3 of Shreveporters to be living in a food desert. (Do yourself a favor, though, and don’t read the comments on that link–especially if you’re sensitive to racism, classism, and general douche-ism.)

Living on a low income in a car-dependent city like Shreveport makes it hard to get to a decent grocery store. Even if you make it to the store, higher-quality food means a higher price (though there are exceptions), and many people don’t have the culinary knowledge to prepare fresh produce, beans, or meat in a nutritionally sound way. This may be a moot point, though, as many grocery stores in low-income neighborhoods have abysmal selections of healthy food–the fresh, less-processed items located on the perimeter of the store. Until Steve Casey deploys a fleet of his Peace Prize-worthy Fresh Moves buses to the South, food deserts are here to stay. In a small community like ours, it’s likely that you regularly interact with someone who lives in a food desert–or that you live in one yourself.

Like it or not, food is political. It’s polarizing, but it also has the power to bring us together and equalize us. If you have a psych background, you know that Abraham Maslow put food at the base of our hierarchy of needs. It’s what we need before we can go on to solve even our most rudimentary problems. Strip our culture out of its man-made, 21st-century trappings, and our day-to-day goals are exactly the same as any other animal’s. Find food. Stay healthy. Keep going.

If you haven’t yet heard of Slow Food North Louisiana (or, on a larger scale, the global slow food movement), consider participating in their upcoming $5 Meal Challenge. The premise is simple: prepare a tasty, nutritious meal that can serve a family of 4 or more for $5 or less per person. Bring the dish and your grocery receipt to Camp Forbing on September 17 at noon. “Challenge the popular belief that it is more expensive and more time consuming to eat food that is good, clean and healthy than food that is fast and processed.”

More information here: http://www.slowfoodnla.com/event

How about another great equalizer? Beer! I’m not sure what it is about fermented, fragrant, wheat-based drinks that seems to turn enemies into friends, but there it is. The world could use more friends. Shreveport Brew, our fair city’s annual beer-tasting extravaganza, is coming up on October 15. Tickets are already on sale, and a sellout is anticipated. Drinking on an empty stomach, however, is not recommended. With that in mind, several local restaurants will be on hand, dishing out sample-sized portions of some of their best-loved dishes to sop up all of that hoppy goodness. A $50 ticket gives you full run of the beer and food. Best of all, no kids allowed! This is a major selling point for me. Not that I’m some kind of evil kid-hater, of course, but sometimes people don’t exercise very good judgment when it comes to appropriate nights out with the ankle-biters. That’s all I’m saying about that.

I took the Acadian Trail home, suddenly enamored with our state and feeling both humbled and inspired. I couldn’t wait to get home and put everything I had learned into practice. The weekend has me looking at Louisiana through fresh, unbiased eyes (no small feat during what has easily been the hottest, most inhumane summer of my life), and I’m ready to breathe some new life into Savoring Shreveport.

If you follow Savoring Shreveport on Facebook or Twitter, you may already know that I recently scored a writing job at SB Magazine. I’ll be covering food and cultural events (as well as some travel, when my budget allows), and my first article comes out in the September issue. I can’t, nor would I be interested in, putting the same articles in Savoring Shreveport–so rest assured that there will be fresh content here, free from the restrictions that come with writing for a legit publication. My note to you, though is this: Any time I sing the praises of an establishment in SB, it’s because it’s somewhere that I genuinely enjoy and feel comfortable recommending. I’m not okay with writing advertorials, and my opinions cannot be bought.

The same goes for Savoring Shreveport. I still don’t put advertising on the site, I still won’t accept comped meals. I started this blog with one goal: to give accurate reviews of local restaurants as a regular person with no agenda. I will continue to work towards that goal.

But there will be some changes. In the coming weeks, I’ll start the process of revamping the look of the blog. I’d like it to be a little more professional and intuitive, with less of a generic feel. Despite my blogging background, I’m a bit of a Luddite–so this part may take some time.

I’ll be in touch with the Greater Shreveport Chamber of Commerce, in an attempt to stay abreast of local restaurant openings. And I’ll focus a little more on upcoming food- and drink-related events.

Suggestions are always welcome on the Facebook page, and you can get in touch with me directly at savoringshreveport@gmail.com. Don’t be shy! You can also follow me on Twitter @savoringshreve.

I hope you’re as excited as I am. Until then!

I wanted to drop in and let you know about our experience a few nights ago with Shreveport’s newest food delivery service, GoWaiter.com. Back in college, my friends and I played an unofficial game that we called Taco Bell Roulette. There weren’t really any rules. Actually, it wasn’t much of a game. You’d just go to Taco Bell (usually late at night, usually after an evening of…imbibing), order something, and get something completely different. A win or a loss could be determined by whether you’d beaten or been beat by the Taco Bell system. Did you ask for two crunchy tacos and a packet of cinnamon twists, but end up with three gorditas, pintos ‘n cheese, a taco salad, and five MexiMelts? Win! They don’t even make MexiMelts anymore! Anyway, you get the idea.

So, based on our one experience with GoWaiter.com, they are kind of playing their own version of takeout roulette. Currently, they offer service from a handful of restaurants: Sake Sushi, Ristorante Giuseppe, Athena Greek and Lebanese, Firehouse Subs, Chili’s, Cantina Laredo, Honeybaked Ham (just in case you have a Christmas Emergency), and Columbia Cafe. They deliver the food for regular menu price, plus a $3.99 delivery fee and driver tip. We chose Athena: two orders of Athena Special Fish, specifically. We ended up with a veritable feast: one order of Athena Special Fish, a plate of shawarma, three feta salads, two orders of hummus, and one of tzatziki. I suppose this was a win. By the time we made the discovery, we had been waiting for an hour, so we ate gratefully and put the rest away for leftovers. Still, if you’re on a restrictive diet or don’t like surprises, GoWaiter.com might not be a good choice. Unfortunately, we all sometimes fall victim to the siren song of delivered food, despite our best intentions.

I’m still not sure if I want to completely resurrect Savoring Shreveport. I’ve moved away from freelancing, and although writing will always be a major part of my identity, I haven’t made eating out as much of a priority since we got The News. I also haven’t been as abreast of the local food landscape–although I’d like for that to change. In the meantime, I’m looking for full-time work (know anyone who’s hiring?) and taking some time to adjust.

And that’s where things are right now. I hope everything is well with you, readers.

Just in time for the cold weather are TWO brand-new frozen treat establishments that I’m ridiculously excited about. Opened in September, Geauxsicles, over on Youree Drive, specializes in handmade, gourmet ice pops in outrageous flavors. Companion and I have already visited enough times to get a free pop with our punch card. Flavors like Southern Peach (peaches and cream with cinnamon), Mandarineez (mandarin orange, fresh basil, ginger, and coconut), and PB&J (creamy peanut butter with a swirl of strawberry) are menu standouts, and they also have a sizable offering of no sugar added varieties, as well as seasonal flavors like Sassy Cider and S’mores. With so much talk lately about eating and buying locally, Shreveport owned and operated Geauxsicles provides a good opportunity to put your money where your mouth is and keep cash in our community.

The second place on my list is so new that a Google search for its name doesn’t generate any hits. Fruiti Yogo, on the corner of Youree and 70th Street, is a new-to-Shreveport frozen yogurt idea. Fruiti Yogo offers an almost completely self-service experience. Walk into the stylishly minimal shop, grab a cup, and start helping yourself to an incredible variety of flavors. This week’s offerings include green tea, pomegranate, red velvet, and plain ol’ vanilla. Once you’re satisfied with your yogurt base, visit their toppings bar and pick from fresh raspberries, blackberries, coconut jelly, Fruity Pebbles, chocolate chips, nuts, and more. When you’re finally done, your yogurt creation is weighed and priced by the ounce. A yogurt place boasting a similar concept opened last summer in my Florida hometown, and I was lucky enough to try some when I was there for a visit. I was totally hooked and a bit depressed that Shreveport didn’t have something comparable. Well, depressed no more! I especially like the idea of Fruiti Yogo; the option to buy as much or as little as you like makes it a good choice for an after dinner treat (because sometimes you just want a little hit of sweetness without committing to a piece of cake or an ice cream cone. Or at least I know I do). By the way, Fruiti Yogo is in the Kroger shopping center, on the side that faces 70th Street (next to Southern Maid).

With the sudden and drastic dip in temperatures, I know frozen snacks aren’t the first on anyone’s list. But I think Geauxsicles and Fruiti Yogo are great and overdue additions to our lackluster dessert scene, and I’d love to see them stick around.

Alex

Obviously, I had to see for myself. My companion and I had been to Columbia once  before, for brunch, long before Savoring Shreveport was even a twinkle in my eye. “Disappointing” is a suitable term. Our server didn’t know a thing about the brunch menu, and consequently, he led us to believe that we had a choice between an omelette with toast or…an omelette with toast. I now realize, in fact, that they have quite an extensive breakfast and brunch menu, so our guy was just ill-informed.

But, that being so long ago, and my experience there being somewhat of a moot point, I was interested in giving it another shot for the sake of the blogosphere. So my companion and I got cleaned up and headed out for a Friday night dinner at Columbia with open minds.

I’m not sure when Columbia is supposed to be crowded, because they were virtually empty at 7:30 on a Friday. This could be both good and bad. Columbia Café blends in with most of the other houses in Highland–and yes, that’s a compliment. Its original layout has been preserved, and the individual dining rooms lend an air of intimacy. Large, sheet-like cuts of cloth hang over recessed lighting, diffusing the light and creating a cozy (if not dimly lit) space.

Our server presented us with the specials and seemed glad to see us. We immediately ordered the stuffed portabella mushroom appetizer. True to its name, a large portabella mushroom cap is stuffed with sautéed spinach, artichoke hearts, tomato, feta cheese, and sweet, intense balsamic vinegar. It’s then draped with a good bit of romesco sauce–which is sort of like pesto, substituting roasted red peppers for the basil. I liked this appetizer option. It’s just enough to tease the palates of two people, and it’s a nice, healthy alternative to fried shrimp cocktail or crab cakes.

In a nautical mood, I chose the evening’s special: grilled amberjack with crab-mango salsa. I chose squash and asparagus as my two included sides (hey, I have a girlish figure to maintain). My companion, who has never been known to turn down a piece of fish, ordered the pecan-crusted trout with garlic-chive beurre rouge.

You don’t see amberjack on many menus, especially around here, so I was eager to sink my teeth into it. The generously-cut fillet was lightly seasoned and grilled. However, amberjack, a relative of the pompano, is an extremely mild fish. I’m afraid that this preparation didn’t allow it shine to its full potential. The crab salsa was a pleasant, vibrantly flavored stopgap, but once that was gone, I didn’t have much interest in the fish on its own. The vegetables were fine, though, especially the squash; it was a seasonally-appropriate mix of zucchini and yellow tossed in a very light garlic butter. My companion’s trout, on the other hand, was dynamite. “Pecan-crusted” might be a little misleading; there was definitely a spiced sweetness there, almost as if the fish had been crusted in candied pecans instead. I’ll admit, I was unschooled on the subject of beurre rouge, but a quick Google search revealed that it’s the red wine cousin of the more popular beurre blanc. It’s made with butter (duh) and the wonderful crust from a deglazed pan. Boy, do I love that crust.

While we were originally intending to stop at post-dinner coffee and tea (the owner of Columbia roasts his own beans on the premises), dessert was on the house that night. (Lest you think I’m abusing my nonexistent “powers,” it was on the house for the rest of the restaurant. I’m not sure what the occasion was, but we didn’t complain.)

Desserts that evening were a chocolate marquis, which is basically a flourless chocolate cake, and a blueberry creme brulee…companion’s favorite. I had the chocolate marquis. There’s just not enough chocolate in my life. It was dense, rich, and unfinishable…like dark, dark chocolate brownies barely cooked through. I enjoyed it a lot, but was dismayed to notice, a few bites in, a faint refrigerator flavor. Obviously, it would be completely unrealistic to expect a restaurant to make each dessert when it’s ordered, but the flavor definitely threw me. Maybe Columbia should invest in a few boxes of Arm and Hammer.

The creme brulee was surprisingly pleasant; not only was it topped with blueberries, but the entire dessert was infused with a faint-but-discernible fresh blueberry flavor. The coffee was excellent, and for $50 + tip, it was a nice break from our usual Friday night special of PieWorks or sushi.

Would I call Columbia Café an “institution,” like so many others have? No, probably not. But then again, I haven’t been here for very long, and I haven’t witnessed their apparent evo- or devolution (it depends on who you ask). Still, Columbia Café fits the bill for a modest date night, or any evening that you wish to spend tucked away over a nice piece of fish and some ultra-fresh coffee.

A brief aside: In light of the current city- and statewide political campaigns, restaurants like Columbia must be patronized if we’re serious about Shreveport becoming the city we’re all wishing for. Businesses like this help improve the landscape of our forgotten neighborhoods (like Highland), provide refuge from large, boring chains that are infiltrating the city, and give neighbors something to talk about. They keep us communicating. In a healthy city, people talk, they eat, and they talk about eating–for better or for worse. Let’s reinforce the threads that tie us all together. Let’s get out there and eat.

At any rate, there’s a special treat that I look forward to each autumn, and I want to share it with you. Honeycrisp apples started popping up nationwide several years ago. They make their seasonal debut sometime in September, and often stick around until January. Spring and summer are long and lonely, as no other apples will do; nor should they. Honeycrisps will completely shift your apple worldview, and, chances are, they’re available in your neighborhood grocer at this very moment.

Honeycrisps hail from Minnesota, like most good things: Post-It Notes, Target, and Bob Dylan, for instance. They were developed at the University of Minnesota by a group of benevolent biologists who sought to make the world a tiny bit better by introducing what is quite possibly the tastiest commercially available fresh-eating apple in the country.

In fact, here's a windblown 20 year-old me during a 2006 pilgrimage to the very hospital where Dylan was born: St. Mary's in Duluth, MN.

Honeycrisp’s family tree is a delicious tangle of Macoun, Golden Delicious, and Honeygold varieties, and the taste is uniquely light, with a muted tartness that swims underneath dazzling sweetness. Its finish is clean and brisk, like an early fall stroll through downtown St. Paul. Unmatched in crispness, a toothy break into Honeycrisp’s yielding flesh is more of a satisfying “crack” than a crunch.

Kroger on Youree Drive (location of last week’s unfortunate red rears incident) carries big, robust Washington-grown Honeycrisps, while the Barksdale AFB commissary offers smaller, smoother New York Honeycrisps.

So, if you’re aching to hear autumn’s bittersweet ballad despite the uncooperative weather, crank the AC down to the 60s, grab a Honeycrisp from the fridge, and hold fall in the palm of your hand.

Since I don’t get paid to write this blog, I patronize restaurants with money out of my own pocket. For both financial and dietary reasons, I try to limit my restaurant meals. The caveat with this system is that the blog doesn’t get updated on a regular basis. Sometimes posts are a few days apart, and at other times, the gaps may be longer. However, Savoring Shreveport is still going strong, and will hopefully continue to do so until I run out of restaurants or I move away, whichever comes first. So, if I fall silent for awhile, don’t despair! I’ll usually be back sooner than later.

Alright, Smashburger. I figured it’s about damn time I wrote this thing up; I’ve eaten at Smashburger several times since the initial VIP lunch, and I think I’ve enjoyed enough of their menu to make a fair assessment.

Before Smashburger opened, when the first whisperings of a boutique burger joint were making the rounds, my gears started turning (as well as my salivary glands). I assumed Smashburger would be something akin to Five Guys, which has, quite frankly, some of the best food I’ve ever had. (If you haven’t been lucky enough to experience the majesty that is Five Guys, get thee to one: the closest locations are in Little Rock and Plano.) To my surprise, Smashburger has very little in common with Five Guys; it’s an entirely different (but still delicious) burger-eating experience.

Americans are finally beginning to pay attention to where their food comes from. They’re also branching out culinarily,  thanks in part to the pop cuisine of Food Network celebrities and and once-obscure-now-readily-available ingredients. Enter Smashburger, a great transitory restaurant for people who are ready to try something a little new without going miles outside of their comfort zones.

French fries? How about French fries with a sheen of olive oil and rosemary?

Burgers? How about on a buttered, artisan bun?

Milkshakes? How about one with the sweet, toasty flavors of bread pudding?

Companion and I have run the gamut of Smashburger’s menu items, from several of their burgers to their “smashchicken” to their salads. Smashburger, by the way, isn’t just a catchy name; it refers to the way the beef patties are “smashed” on the grill to create a juicy, evenly cooked burger that comes to you in a fraction of the time.

Popular Smashburgers include the Spicy Baja, which features an extremely generous scoop of guacamole and freshly chopped jalapeno peppers; and the Louisiana Burger, with cheese, bacon, “Cajun grilled onions” and remoulade sauce. That a Smashburger in Shreveport has a “Louisiana Burger” is no coincidence; Smashburger has a different burger for each state that they have a location. (Ohioans, for instance, can choose the “Buckeye Burger,” with fried pepper rings, haystack onions, and American cheese). Honestly, it’s nice to see something that brands itself as “Louisiana-style” without crawfish on or in it. Man, that gets old.

The Smashchickens are also a great choice; get it crispy with buffalo sauce and heaps of blue cheese, or grilled with avocado, bacon, and ranch on a multigrain bun (one of my favorites). I appreciate that the chicken breast is flattened (or “smashed,” I guess). Too often, when ordering a chicken sandwich, there’s a big, thick, dry breast sitting in the middle. (Aaand I feel like that’s the perfect segue into a “your mother has big, thick, dry breasts” joke, but I won’t. Or maybe I just did.)

Both the burgers and the chickens offer a “create-your-own” option; choose your bun and the trimmings. For 99 cents more, you can go really old school and top your burger with a fried egg; it’s said that that’s how hamburgers were served when they were still novelties.

Sides aren’t included with burgers and chicken, which is both good and bad: it costs a little more, but gives the patron the freedom to choose from Smashburger’s welcome assortment. Smashfries with olive oil and rosemary are popular, as are sweet potato fries (also with olive oil and rosemary and garlic; a smart, unexpected variation on the sugared sweet potato fries seen at places all over the country), fried pickle chips, and haystack onions. Possibly the most unique side option, though, are “veggie frites”: flash-fried carrot sticks, asparagus spears, and green beans. Flash-frying gives the vegetables a modestly crisp exterior while preserving their natural flavors and textures. The sweet potato fries remain my personal favorite, although the haystack onions run a very close second; they come in a big knot of crispy, stringy, slightly sweet goodness.

Another thing worth mentioning from Smashburger’s menu is their modest selection of hot dogs. These are real, all-beef dogs served the way mother nature intended: Chicago-style (right down to the poppyseed bun!), “Louisiana-style,” and a classic chili cheese. I have yet to find a place nearby that serves, if not specializes, in hot dogs, and Smashburger comes through for cravings. (Although, if any of you can recommend another great hot dog stand in town, please do not hesitate!)

Wine, beer, Crush sodas, and Haagen-Dazs milkshakes (vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, and bread pudding, another regional flavor) provide special finishing touches on a truly one-of-a-kind menu.

Foodwise, I really haven’t hit any snags with Smashburger. Their food delivers exactly what it claims it will. Unfortunately, Smashburger is nearly always crowded, with a line stretching to the door at peak times. Watch the staff, though…they’re hauling ass. Sometimes a long wait is the product of good food and word-of-mouth, not of lazy, lackadaisical waitstaff. Smashburger doesn’t bill itself as fast food, but they do strive to get your meal out in ten minutes or less, with relative success. I’d say it’s worth the wait.

Smashburger

7503 Youree Drive

318-797-1988

www.smashburger.com

(Coming soon to Bossier City!)

The Sunday morning after my arrival home, my companion and I decided to try the maudlinly named Another Broken Egg. I was in dire need of a good breakfast. Some pre-dining research revealed that Another Broken Egg is actually a chain operating out of Destin, Florida, smack-dab in the middle of the beautiful Redneck Riviera Emerald Coast. While I’m normally not too keen on chains, Another Broken Egg only operates in three Gulf Coast states, plus one rogue location in Dallas.

We usually like to time our breakfast visits to synch up with when we imagine everyone else is in church. Shreveport is a city deserted during these hours, and we tell ourselves that we’re saving some of the waitstaff the chore of standing around and twiddling their thumbs. At around 10 a.m., Another Broken Egg was predictably empty; we walked in and were seated within 30 seconds. Things seemed to be going smoothly. We were quickly greeted by Spencer, our sheepish server (and I hope he likes alliteration, because that’s what he’s getting). It was Spencer’s first day on the job and he was nervous, but he passed. Don’t be so sheepish, Spencer!

The first thing that jumped out on the menu were the “delectable starters,” also known as breakfast appetizers. I know, weird, right? But when it comes to appetizers, Another Broken Egg seems to take a “why not?” approach. I can get behind that. Their appetizers range from the fancy (Baked Brie) to the innovative (Biscuit Beignets) to the slightly bizarre (Blackberry Grits). We didn’t have any appetizers on this visit, but I was lucky enough to watch a steaming plate of the Biscuit Beignets float by–a vision in powdered sugar accompanied by honey-marmalade dipping sauce.

Breakfast people: this is your menu. Nearly every conceivable combination of eggs, home fries (ABE calls them “country potatoes,” but you know what I’m talking about), bacon, sausage, and pancakes can be (and often already is, creatively) conjured up. Another Broken Egg gives special treatment to their Eggs Benedict(s), which includes the classic ham/Hollandaise number alongside interesting, albeit heart-stopping options like Benedict Oscar, which includes an entire sirloin atop an English muffin, finished with eggs, crabmeat, asparagus and Bearnaise sauce.

Anyway, I ended up on the “safe side” with a smoked salmon omelet: filled with cream cheese and finished with smoked salmon, diced red onions, capers, and tomatoes. Inside the warm confines of the omelet, the cream cheese had melted down to something a little less solid and a lot more delicious. My only complaint with this omelet was that the smoked salmon was presented in two neat piles on top. I was hoping for some salmon bits mixed in with the eggs themselves. It felt clumsy to divvy up and slice, so I ended up eating the omelet first, then the salmon by itself. The omelet was served with the aforementioned country potatoes and an English muffin which was assigned an inadequate dab of butter. More butter!

The sheer variety of omelets, though, is enough to keep me coming back. Another Broken Egg shows off its geographical know-how with choices like The Floridian (cream cheese, garlic butter-sauteed crabmeat, melted jack and a “touch” of scallions) and The Mardi Gras (smoked andouille, red peppers, crawfish, and scallions topped with tomato-Hollandaise sauce). Other picks range from the luxurious (Lobster et Fromage) to the standard (Garden Delight).

Always seeking to out-flapjack himself, my companion ordered Another Broken Egg’s pancakes. “Good,” he said, “not Southfield.” I tried them myself, and while they were indeed passable, they weren’t outrageous. The bacon they came with, however, was top-notch.

I didn’t want to mention it, but a glaring grammatical error on their professionally-printed menus ate away at me for some time after our visit. Apparently, Another Broken Egg can turn any waffle, pancake, or French toast slice into “Banana’s Foster.” Listen, folks. THIS IS NOT CORRECT. As Louisianans, you should be able to see through this, but I know a lot of people have problem’s with their apostrophe’s, and as someone who supports the English language, I have problems with their problems. Just to be sure, a quick Google search of “bananas foster” yielded the original Brennan’s Restaurant recipe, as well as the Wikipedia page, all without the apostrophe. Quick lesson for those of you who have been asleep since third grade: an apostrophe denotes a possessive. “Banana’s Foster” indicates that the Foster belongs to the Banana. This is not so. In fact, Bananas Foster is named after Richard Foster, a member of the New Orleans Cuisine Commission (whatever that is, I want to be a part of it) at the time of the dessert’s inception in the 50s. The “Bananas” in Bananas Foster is, in fact, plural, indicating more than one banana. To make something plural, you generally only have to add an “s” to it. PLURALS NEVER HAVE APOSTROPHES. And yes, I am planning on writing a letter. I’m sure Another Broken Egg spent a pretty penny to have those menus printed and delivered for use in four states. And yes, I can take as much time as I want talking about apostrophes, because this is my blog, and as long as we want people to speak English in the United States, we as Americans should make sure we know how to use it properly. Rant dismissed.

The food at Another Broken Egg? Great. When they promise a memorable brunch experience, they deliver it in a family-friendly, easygoing atmosphere. My only real issue was with price. A lot of people (myself included), generally think of breakfast as the cheapest meal of the day. In general I understand Another Broken Egg’s slightly elevated prices (between $9 and $12 for most egg-based dishes). Ingredients like crab, lobster, and steak aren’t cheap. But there’s something about a $4.29 cup of cafe au lait that I just can’t support. Still, for a moderately-sized Southern city, Shreveport is surprisingly lacking in the brunch department. The contenders we do have are strong ones, to be sure, but I think Another Broken Egg will have no trouble at all drumming up business.

Another Broken Egg Cafe

885 Pierremont Road, Suite 132

(in the same shopping center as Superior’s Steakhouse)

318-865-1124

www.anotherbrokenegg.com