Tales From New Orleans Restaurants: Guests' Edition
Photo credit Valeria Boltneva via Pexels
Tales From New Orleans Restaurants: Guests' Edition
"Only in New Orleans!" is something of an overused cliche at this point, but we're making an exception for your stories from New Orleans restaurants. These are from the guests' point of view - next week, the servers get their turn. Names have been withheld if the stories are damaging to any currently-operating places, everyone has bad days, after all. Here's the pick of the stories we asked locals for (and check out Part 2: Servers' Edition):
An older lady took my friend’s seat when he went to the restroom. On returning, he had to wrestle the lady out of his seat, but by that time, she had eaten almost everything. When the scuffle started, she said, "Don't you dare mess with The Kingfish." and after it was all over, she dusted herself off and said, "Every man, a king!" as she left. My friend was incensed and still very hungry. The manager pointed out the fine print in size three font that appears at the bottom of the back page of the menu. The manager said that the lady had a condition that caused her to believe that she was John Goodman, playing the role of Huey Long. John Goodman, doing the decent thing, eventually tried to have a discussion with her, but refused to acknowledge that he was the real John Goodman. She took a swing at him with a croquet mallet, but missed. John Goodman, the real one, then established a relief fund for those who had their meal ruined by her.
I fell through the floor at Appoline in college - RIP our bottomless heaven.
I was doing some homework in a casual restaurant corner and some guy sneezed, and I said "Gesundheit!" I put back on my noise cancelling headphones and thought that was it. He went absolutely crazy, screaming at me, shouting that “In this country we say god bless you!” and I'm a dumb, devil-worshipping atheist, and how dare I say ‘Gesundheit’. I didn't even notice he was yelling for the first sentence or two because of my headphones, and when I looked over, he was beet red in the face, angrily pointing his finger at me. I laughed and he grabbed his stuff, slammed over a chair and stormed out.
I fainted from too much alcohol on an empty stomach. Twice.
You'd have to know Cecil, he was missing a leg just above the knee. He was mildly charismatic. He asked to use the bathroom where a friend of mine was a waitress. She was hesitant, but let him. On his way out, he snatched up a braised lamb shank off the plate of a woman dining there, and fled out the front door. On crutches. He could cover some ground on those crutches. He then proceeded to devour the thing on the street, in full view of everyone in the restaurant through the front windows.
This place forgot to put cheese in my quesadilla.
Seeing the giant fish jumping out of the tank at Five Happiness was always interesting.
I was at Coulis on Prytania the week before Jazz Fest. The only other person in the restaurant was Kermit Ruffins. The server didn't recognize him and conversationally asked if he had any plans to check out jazz fest this weekend. Ever the cool customer, Kermit was just like "Yeah, I'll stop by."
About a decade ago I was at Antoine’s for a private party in one of the back rooms. I had to step out and take a call, and while I’m pacing in the hall I keep walking past this table that’s just piled up with dirty dishes and napkins. I figure, whatever, just a trash table, but I spy a ~70% full bottle of red on the table. After a few more passes (long phone call) no one has come by for it, so I figure it must be trash too, and, being a disgusting trash monster myself, take a big swig of it. Not 15 seconds later a waiter comes by, grabs it, and brings it into the fanciest, biggest, private room they have to a party of like 20-30 people and starts pouring glasses. Mortified, I walk back to our party. I looked up the bottle, it was around $400.
Dragons Den in the early 2000s: We were upstairs and very stoned, and a table of diners on the balcony had just left, leaving three plates of food untouched and the bill paid on the table. The three of us plopped ourselves down at the table and began eating the untouched meals. The waiter came and looked confused, but took the money and left us alone to dine.
After a Saints game I went to Superior Seafood with my (now ex) boyfriend who was belligerently drunk. He wordlessly got up from the table and disappeared for a while. I was pretty done with him that day so I didn’t ask questions. A few minutes after he’s back the restaurant security guard came over and kindly asked if he was okay? He refused to answer any questions so on the way out the door I went and asked the security guard myself. He said “Your boy was trying to go in the kitchen, saying the chef was his best friend (false), when I tried to stop him he threw up on me. No worries though, I keep a spare one in the car. I hope he’s feeling better.” I thanked him for not throwing us out and offered him cash for dry cleaning which he refused, what a real one.
This was back in the 90's. Kyoto Sushi. I had this stupid running gag with my friends. If I saw someone remotely resembling a celebrity, I'd say "Look! It's (insert celebrity name)!". Only loud enough for our ears. We're dining at the bar and at the opposite end I see this guy resembling a famous lead singer, so I poke my friends and whisper, "Hey, look It's Bruce Hornsby!". No response. "Guys, guys - look down there - It's Bruce Hornsby!". They are ignoring me. I try once again but my friend cuts me off and says, "Moron, that IS Bruce Hornsby". I look down at Bruce. He smiles, giggles and waves.
I was at Pascal Manale's and a couple were there on a date. Apparently the guys hand slipped when he was eating his BBQ shrimp and hit the bowl, sending hot buttery goodness all over both of them. When she went to the bathroom to clean up, the guy paid the bill and left.
I was a regular at a quarter spot for years, and knew all the staff. I came in for dinner one night and my waiter was so trashed that I swapped. He sat at my table and I served food for about two hours. That guy never charged me for dinner again.
I was eating around the quarter late at night with some friends like 12 years ago. We saw this man come in asking for change and noticed that his hand was basically DETACHED FROM THE REST OF HIS ARM. Like, it was hanging by literal tendons. He asked a bartender for a cup of ice (which we thought was for his severed hand?!?) but then he started eating the ice and walked away.
In about 1989, my husband and I (we were both born in New Orleans but both raised in Acadiana) went out for our first visit to the famous Galatoire's. After a short wait in line outside, we were seated and we ordered. I suddenly had a vague memory that Galatoire's might not accept credit cards. We usually relied on a credit card to pay for expensive restaurant dinners. I mentioned that they might not take credit cards to my husband. My husband walked toward the kitchen and spoke to our waiter. The waiter replied, "No problem. We'll give you a bill, and you can mail us a check." We mailed the payment the very next day.
At a well-known Italian restaurant on Saint Charles Avenue. My daughter was one and a half still in diapers and we were out at a big family dinner. The waiter was taking everybody’s orders and pretended to take her order. She proudly announced that she had to poop.
I was sitting at a bar in the Quarter and there was me, my friend and a Bachelorette party. Two of the girls were 'woo'-ing ridiculously. When one of the girls woo'd right in my ear, I asked her not to do that. She dressed me down for two straight minutes, telling me what an asshole I am, she has freedom of speech, who do I think I am, if I don't like it I can leave and ended the whole thing standing in front of me, arms crossed, smug look on her face telling me there is nothing I can do about it and they were having a private party upstairs tomorrow so they are in tight with the owner. Only problem, I owned the bar. So, it was me and my friend at the bar and I had a karaoke party upstairs the next night.
Got caught in a tropical storm on the way to dinner. We arrived soaked and they gave us all complimentary shirts to change into so we could still eat dinner. There were eight of us.
We were at a fine dining restaurant in the warehouse district when all of a sudden it was raining on our table. A guest in an above hotel room had overflowed their bathtub, to the extent that it was coming through the ceiling like a hard rain.
My buddy and I were in a bar in 1992 around 2 am, and a one-armed Mick Jagger look alike came in with a scantily dressed lady. They sat next to us and ordered a dozen oysters and a beer. After about 10 minutes of talking, the guy says, "Y'all want to have sex with my girlfriend? "We declined and then he said, "How the hell am I going to pay for my oysters?" The bartender heard everything and goes to the side of the bar. He pulls out what appears to be a sawn off shotgun and tells the guy he'd better pay one way or another. The guy pulls out a wad of cash and puts a couple bills on the counter and they leave. The bartender apologized and said “Welcome to New Orleans!”. We were about to leave and he brought us two more beers. When we told him we didn't order them he said they were on the house. We sat there for another three hours.
Had Christmas dinner at the casino steakhouse in NOLA 20 years ago. The sweet potato bread pudding was one of the best things I ever ate (still is). I finished it and the server asked if I needed anything else. I told him I just needed to lick the plate, so he lifted his apron as if to give me some privacy so I could.
I went to the downstairs restroom at Commander's Palace where there is only one commode. Someone was in the stall and an elderly lady (purple gray hair, pearls)was waiting to be next. A sweet voice from the stall called out, "Edith, are you alone ?" Edith slyly looked at me, winked and said"Yes". The lady in the stall let out a rather large passage of gas and Edith and I started giggling uncontrollably. Edith's friend came out (pink hair with a pillbox hat), blushing and frowning. I told her if you can't do that in a bathroom, where can you? She smiled but slapped Edith's arm as she left.
We had brunch at a very famous restaurant in the French Quarter after my granddaughter’s high school graduation. Our table was in the back corner. There were about 15 of us and the chairs were rather close to each other. There was another large table right behind me with a little side table between us. The side table had a pitcher on it. There was not much room to get in and out of your chair. I stood up a moment to take a picture. When I went to sit down, my chair slipped back and I fell down. I hit my head on that little side table and landed on my butt. One of the waiters came by, brought me an ice bag and took my information and gave me his card if I had to go to the doctor.
Was sitting in a casual spot for lunch and a guy walks in in bloody scrubs with his hospital wrist band still on.
My husband and I were dining at a famous steakhouse in the French Quarter in the early 90s. It was a rare dressy outing for us, and I’d gone all out to look especially nice that evening. I went to the ladies room at some point, and when I exited the stall, a very famous NFL player was standing there. He announced, to his embarrassment, he had clearly taken the wrong door to the men’s room, but suggested we should dance, since we were both there and music was playing over the intercom. He was a complete gentleman, if not the best dancer in the world.
Was with my brother at a restaurant uptown. Noticed the man at the next table added an insane amount of salt. He just kept going and going. I remember being shocked, wondering how could he possibly eat that? He then proceeded to call over the waiter and told him that his food was too salty.
PART TWO: SERVERS' EDITION
MORE NEW ORLEANS FOOD AND DRINK
"Only in New Orleans!" is something of an overused cliche at this point, but we're making an exception for your stories from New Orleans restaurants. These are from the guests' point of view - next week, the servers get their turn. Names have been withheld if the stories are damaging to any currently-operating places, everyone has bad days, after all. Here's the pick of the stories we asked locals for (and check out Part 2: Servers' Edition):
An older lady took my friend’s seat when he went to the restroom. On returning, he had to wrestle the lady out of his seat, but by that time, she had eaten almost everything. When the scuffle started, she said, "Don't you dare mess with The Kingfish." and after it was all over, she dusted herself off and said, "Every man, a king!" as she left. My friend was incensed and still very hungry. The manager pointed out the fine print in size three font that appears at the bottom of the back page of the menu. The manager said that the lady had a condition that caused her to believe that she was John Goodman, playing the role of Huey Long. John Goodman, doing the decent thing, eventually tried to have a discussion with her, but refused to acknowledge that he was the real John Goodman. She took a swing at him with a croquet mallet, but missed. John Goodman, the real one, then established a relief fund for those who had their meal ruined by her.
I fell through the floor at Appoline in college - RIP our bottomless heaven.
I was doing some homework in a casual restaurant corner and some guy sneezed, and I said "Gesundheit!" I put back on my noise cancelling headphones and thought that was it. He went absolutely crazy, screaming at me, shouting that “In this country we say god bless you!” and I'm a dumb, devil-worshipping atheist, and how dare I say ‘Gesundheit’. I didn't even notice he was yelling for the first sentence or two because of my headphones, and when I looked over, he was beet red in the face, angrily pointing his finger at me. I laughed and he grabbed his stuff, slammed over a chair and stormed out.
I fainted from too much alcohol on an empty stomach. Twice.
You'd have to know Cecil, he was missing a leg just above the knee. He was mildly charismatic. He asked to use the bathroom where a friend of mine was a waitress. She was hesitant, but let him. On his way out, he snatched up a braised lamb shank off the plate of a woman dining there, and fled out the front door. On crutches. He could cover some ground on those crutches. He then proceeded to devour the thing on the street, in full view of everyone in the restaurant through the front windows.
This place forgot to put cheese in my quesadilla.
Seeing the giant fish jumping out of the tank at Five Happiness was always interesting.
I was at Coulis on Prytania the week before Jazz Fest. The only other person in the restaurant was Kermit Ruffins. The server didn't recognize him and conversationally asked if he had any plans to check out jazz fest this weekend. Ever the cool customer, Kermit was just like "Yeah, I'll stop by."
About a decade ago I was at Antoine’s for a private party in one of the back rooms. I had to step out and take a call, and while I’m pacing in the hall I keep walking past this table that’s just piled up with dirty dishes and napkins. I figure, whatever, just a trash table, but I spy a ~70% full bottle of red on the table. After a few more passes (long phone call) no one has come by for it, so I figure it must be trash too, and, being a disgusting trash monster myself, take a big swig of it. Not 15 seconds later a waiter comes by, grabs it, and brings it into the fanciest, biggest, private room they have to a party of like 20-30 people and starts pouring glasses. Mortified, I walk back to our party. I looked up the bottle, it was around $400.
Dragons Den in the early 2000s: We were upstairs and very stoned, and a table of diners on the balcony had just left, leaving three plates of food untouched and the bill paid on the table. The three of us plopped ourselves down at the table and began eating the untouched meals. The waiter came and looked confused, but took the money and left us alone to dine.
After a Saints game I went to Superior Seafood with my (now ex) boyfriend who was belligerently drunk. He wordlessly got up from the table and disappeared for a while. I was pretty done with him that day so I didn’t ask questions. A few minutes after he’s back the restaurant security guard came over and kindly asked if he was okay? He refused to answer any questions so on the way out the door I went and asked the security guard myself. He said “Your boy was trying to go in the kitchen, saying the chef was his best friend (false), when I tried to stop him he threw up on me. No worries though, I keep a spare one in the car. I hope he’s feeling better.” I thanked him for not throwing us out and offered him cash for dry cleaning which he refused, what a real one.
This was back in the 90's. Kyoto Sushi. I had this stupid running gag with my friends. If I saw someone remotely resembling a celebrity, I'd say "Look! It's (insert celebrity name)!". Only loud enough for our ears. We're dining at the bar and at the opposite end I see this guy resembling a famous lead singer, so I poke my friends and whisper, "Hey, look It's Bruce Hornsby!". No response. "Guys, guys - look down there - It's Bruce Hornsby!". They are ignoring me. I try once again but my friend cuts me off and says, "Moron, that IS Bruce Hornsby". I look down at Bruce. He smiles, giggles and waves.
I was at Pascal Manale's and a couple were there on a date. Apparently the guys hand slipped when he was eating his BBQ shrimp and hit the bowl, sending hot buttery goodness all over both of them. When she went to the bathroom to clean up, the guy paid the bill and left.
I was a regular at a quarter spot for years, and knew all the staff. I came in for dinner one night and my waiter was so trashed that I swapped. He sat at my table and I served food for about two hours. That guy never charged me for dinner again.
I was eating around the quarter late at night with some friends like 12 years ago. We saw this man come in asking for change and noticed that his hand was basically DETACHED FROM THE REST OF HIS ARM. Like, it was hanging by literal tendons. He asked a bartender for a cup of ice (which we thought was for his severed hand?!?) but then he started eating the ice and walked away.
In about 1989, my husband and I (we were both born in New Orleans but both raised in Acadiana) went out for our first visit to the famous Galatoire's. After a short wait in line outside, we were seated and we ordered. I suddenly had a vague memory that Galatoire's might not accept credit cards. We usually relied on a credit card to pay for expensive restaurant dinners. I mentioned that they might not take credit cards to my husband. My husband walked toward the kitchen and spoke to our waiter. The waiter replied, "No problem. We'll give you a bill, and you can mail us a check." We mailed the payment the very next day.
At a well-known Italian restaurant on Saint Charles Avenue. My daughter was one and a half still in diapers and we were out at a big family dinner. The waiter was taking everybody’s orders and pretended to take her order. She proudly announced that she had to poop.
I was sitting at a bar in the Quarter and there was me, my friend and a Bachelorette party. Two of the girls were 'woo'-ing ridiculously. When one of the girls woo'd right in my ear, I asked her not to do that. She dressed me down for two straight minutes, telling me what an asshole I am, she has freedom of speech, who do I think I am, if I don't like it I can leave and ended the whole thing standing in front of me, arms crossed, smug look on her face telling me there is nothing I can do about it and they were having a private party upstairs tomorrow so they are in tight with the owner. Only problem, I owned the bar. So, it was me and my friend at the bar and I had a karaoke party upstairs the next night.
Got caught in a tropical storm on the way to dinner. We arrived soaked and they gave us all complimentary shirts to change into so we could still eat dinner. There were eight of us.
We were at a fine dining restaurant in the warehouse district when all of a sudden it was raining on our table. A guest in an above hotel room had overflowed their bathtub, to the extent that it was coming through the ceiling like a hard rain.
My buddy and I were in a bar in 1992 around 2 am, and a one-armed Mick Jagger look alike came in with a scantily dressed lady. They sat next to us and ordered a dozen oysters and a beer. After about 10 minutes of talking, the guy says, "Y'all want to have sex with my girlfriend? "We declined and then he said, "How the hell am I going to pay for my oysters?" The bartender heard everything and goes to the side of the bar. He pulls out what appears to be a sawn off shotgun and tells the guy he'd better pay one way or another. The guy pulls out a wad of cash and puts a couple bills on the counter and they leave. The bartender apologized and said “Welcome to New Orleans!”. We were about to leave and he brought us two more beers. When we told him we didn't order them he said they were on the house. We sat there for another three hours.
Had Christmas dinner at the casino steakhouse in NOLA 20 years ago. The sweet potato bread pudding was one of the best things I ever ate (still is). I finished it and the server asked if I needed anything else. I told him I just needed to lick the plate, so he lifted his apron as if to give me some privacy so I could.
I went to the downstairs restroom at Commander's Palace where there is only one commode. Someone was in the stall and an elderly lady (purple gray hair, pearls)was waiting to be next. A sweet voice from the stall called out, "Edith, are you alone ?" Edith slyly looked at me, winked and said"Yes". The lady in the stall let out a rather large passage of gas and Edith and I started giggling uncontrollably. Edith's friend came out (pink hair with a pillbox hat), blushing and frowning. I told her if you can't do that in a bathroom, where can you? She smiled but slapped Edith's arm as she left.
We had brunch at a very famous restaurant in the French Quarter after my granddaughter’s high school graduation. Our table was in the back corner. There were about 15 of us and the chairs were rather close to each other. There was another large table right behind me with a little side table between us. The side table had a pitcher on it. There was not much room to get in and out of your chair. I stood up a moment to take a picture. When I went to sit down, my chair slipped back and I fell down. I hit my head on that little side table and landed on my butt. One of the waiters came by, brought me an ice bag and took my information and gave me his card if I had to go to the doctor.
Was sitting in a casual spot for lunch and a guy walks in in bloody scrubs with his hospital wrist band still on.
My husband and I were dining at a famous steakhouse in the French Quarter in the early 90s. It was a rare dressy outing for us, and I’d gone all out to look especially nice that evening. I went to the ladies room at some point, and when I exited the stall, a very famous NFL player was standing there. He announced, to his embarrassment, he had clearly taken the wrong door to the men’s room, but suggested we should dance, since we were both there and music was playing over the intercom. He was a complete gentleman, if not the best dancer in the world.
Was with my brother at a restaurant uptown. Noticed the man at the next table added an insane amount of salt. He just kept going and going. I remember being shocked, wondering how could he possibly eat that? He then proceeded to call over the waiter and told him that his food was too salty.
PART TWO: SERVERS' EDITION
MORE NEW ORLEANS FOOD AND DRINK