Commander’s Palace is such fun. Besides the fact that it’s always so delicious and everything is just perfection, it has a sense of humor. The toile at the main entrance has been embellished by Richard Saja:
It’s also a little bit like going to visit an elegant aunt who is a bit dotty. I’ve thought of doing this scrolling wall treatment that appears in their main downstairs dining room, with the perches and birds, in a bathroom of ours just to see how many friends immediately get the connection. And to bask in the elegant dottiness.
Av, who loves taking me to my favorite place. Love, love:
Following are some images from a couple of our latest lunches there. This is the ‘Oyster and Absinthe Dome, with briny Gulf oysters poached with bacon, artichokes, tarragon, Swiss absinthe, and a splash of cream presented under a flaky pastry shell’:
The Reveillon menu is here; can’t wait to enjoy it later this month!
And there’s this perfectly lovely, funny review on Yelp:
I brought a friend home with me and one of my few demands was to have lunch at Commander’s Palace so that my tongue could remember bliss once more! I ordered without looking at the menu, my meal was even better than I’d remembered! And then this lovely woman came in to check on us and I told her of my love of these grits, how they were a symbol of home to me, a physical representation of bliss, the epitome of deliciousness! And you know what she did? She had my waiter (whose name I shamefully cannot recall, the grits overshadowed all else) bring me a free side of MORE GRITS! That’s when I learned she was the owner, and probably the incarnation of an angel. I ate grits until I couldn’t fit another single grit into my body, and the gluttonous pain of it was completely worthwhile.