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The Cajun Kitchen – Albuquerque, New Mexico (CLOSED)

Albuquerque's Cajun Kitchen

Albuquerque's Cajun Kitchen

Note:  After 24 years of serving Albuquerque in two locations, the Cajun Kitchen closed its doors on Friday, March 11, 2011.  On a notice in the menu, the Hebert family wrote, “It has been a privilege serving the Albuquerque community and have been equally blessed by the support of those who have graced our tables making the restaurant the institution it has become.”

When we moved back to Albuquerque in 1995 after eight years of living in the Mississippi Gulf Coast, we begrudgingly accepted the fact that in New Mexico, we would never experience the type and quality of  Cajun and Creole cuisine with which we had fallen head-over-heels in love.  Our taste buds, we thought, would be deprived of  the very lively, very colorful and very varied rustic cuisine characterized by the use of the “holy trinity” (bell pepper, onion and celery), just-off-the-boat seafood, spicy sausage and perfectly prepared rice.  Where, we wondered would we receive our meals with the “laissez bon temps rouler” (let the good times roll) attitude so prevalent in the Deep South?

Obviously we didn’t know about the Cajun Kitchen, where Duke City diners have been getting their Cajun and Creole cooking fix for nearly a quarter of a century.  In that time, several usurpers–including chains–have come and gone.  The Cajun Kitchen is the real deal, an unpretentious and authentic, straight-forward purveyor of Cajun and Creole cuisine as well made as it can probably be done in Albuquerque, especially considering the distance to the Gulf and to seaside suppliers.  This should not be interpreted in any way that the Cajun Kitchen is some sort of “consolation prize.”  It is a very good restaurant with a loyal following that includes many other Gulf Coast transplants who recognize and love its food.

Hungry alligator headed toward Cajun Kitchen

The Cajun Kitchen is 1,162 miles from New Orleans, 1,082 miles from Baton Rouge and 918 miles from Natchitoches.  How do I know this?  Similar to the iconic signpost from the television series MASH, the walls on the kitchen at Albuquerque’s  Cajun Kitchen are adorned with signs indicating the distance to those three Louisiana bastions of Cajun and Creole cuisine.  Greatness of distance to Cajun country does not  mean greatness of distance to good Cajun food in Albuquerque.

The Cajun Kitchen is festooned in the traditional Mardi Gras colors of purple (representing justice), green (representing faith) and gold (representing power). One wall is bespangled with expressions of “Fat Tuesday” celebrations: multi-colored beads and bangles, Mardi Gras masks and more.  Some of the green comes in the form of a large mural depicting a bayou swamp replete with a large alligator and other fauna and flora indigenous to the bog.  The gator’s mouth is open wide, a mere foot or so away from the open kitchen.

One wall has a Mardi Gras theme

Yet another wall (pictured below) lists the lexicon of Louisiana–po-boys, French Market, krew, Hebert (the family name of the restaurant’s owners) and more along with pronunciations for some of the words not widely spoken outside of the deep south. Immediately above this dictionary are some of the trappings of the Mississippi Gulf Coast fisherman, the life’s blood of Cajun and Creole cuisine. A painting of Louisiana manor named Lemeuse takes up much of the easternmost wall.

While all the symbolism is reflective of the Cajun culture and life in Louisiana, nothing shouts Cajun louder than the restaurant’s food.  It’s the food that tugs most at our heart strings.  It’s the food that brings us back.  The Cajun Kitchen’s menu is hardly a compendium of all the great foods showcased on the menus in the great restaurants of New Orleans.  Instead, it focuses on a select few familiar offerings, those entrees that even those barely conversant in Cajun would recognize.

Cajun lexicon

Most would recognize gumbo–if not the dish, certainly the word which is actually a corruption of the African name for okra.  Okra is only one of the vegetables on traditional gumbo where it shares the stage with the aforementioned holy trinity of vegetables (celery, bell peppers and onion).  The strength of the Cajun Kitchen’s gumbo is its roux, a thickening agent made from flour and fat (perhaps clarified butter).  Gumbo options include seafood (fish, shrimp and scallops) and crawfish, both of which are quite good. This is a flavorful, full-bodied soup!

Cajun Kitchen starters include seasoned Cajun fries which are much better than the flaccid fries most restaurants serve–so good, in fact, they’re starting to catch on in other restaurants.  As good as the crispy seasoned fries  (coated in Cajun seasonings) are, most diners will start off with a crawfish basket, an oyster basket or a shrimp basket, all three of which feature fried, delicately breaded seafood.  The popcorn crawfish tend to be the most fresh, with the surprising sweetness crawfish tend to have.  All are served with traditional cocktail sauce, but are better with the “po’boy sauce,” a sweet, tangy orange marmalade sauce that contrasts nicely with the briny seafood taste. It goes without saying that the well-dressed oyster po’boy should have plenty of that po’boy sauce.

Seafood Gumbo

Better yet, if fried seafood is what you crave, order the large combo platter and you’ll be treated to a fisherman’s fried dream: Louisiana style oysters, crawfish tail meat, catfish, and shrimp. Because these treasures of the sea are lightly battered, it’s their native flavors  that will captivate you, not some thick coating which masks those flavors.  In all honesty, it’s with the fried seafood where you can most tell you’re not on the Mississippi Gulf Coast where it’s not uncommon to partake of freshly caught, just-off-the-boat seafood treasures.  Oysters, in particular, are best when that fresh and when you’ve had these pearlescent gems just plucked out of the water, you’ll notice the difference.  From among the large combo platter, the catfish stands out.  In Mississippi, we lived in the catfish capital of the world and will attest to Cajun Kitchen’s preparation of catfish being some of the best we’ve had anywhere–and certainly the best we’ve had in New Mexico…by far.

The fried seafood entrees are served with your choice of red beans and rice or seasoned fries. The red beans and rice, with or without sausage (and it would be a sin not to have the sausage), are in a class of their own in the Duke City.  This Louisiana Creole dish, traditionally served on Mondays is good seven days a week (although the Cajun Kitchen is only open Monday through Friday).  Red beans and rice get their kick from cayenne pepper, but their flavor from the holy trinity as well as  smoky Andouille sausage.  By the way, at the Cajun Kitchen, all the wait staff can pronounce Andouille correctly which is always a good sign.

Chicken Sauce Piquant: two fried chicken breasts in a very hot and spicy sauce made with jalapeños and cayenne peppers simmered in a tomato roux

It’s because we love the fried catfish so much that the entree I’ve had most often is catfish smothered in crawfish etouffee, an absolutely stunning dish brimming in the rich, flavorful spices that make Cajun cooking so popular. The basis for the Cajun Kitchen’s etouffee, a French word for “smother” is a thick, well-seasoned tomato sauce served over perfectly prepared white rice. The sauce wholly dissimilar to the tomato sauces used in Italian cooking. It’s redolent with the fragrance of the holy trinity and the olfactory-arousing seasonings so prevalent in Cajun cooking.

Another saucy and spicy offering New Mexicans will appreciate is the restaurant’s chicken sauce piquant, two fried chicken breasts in a very hot and spicy sauce made with jalapeños and cayenne peppers simmered in a tomato roux.  Hot and spicy Cajun style isn’t synonymous with hot and spicy New Mexico style.  Anyone who’s had Tabasco sauce can attest to the zesty heat the capsaicin-rich cayenne can generate, but it wouldn’t, for example, be very good on enchiladas.  What cayenne does is invigorate acidic-based sauces such as the tomato roux used on this dish.  The fried chicken is terrific, as good as any fried chicken in town.  It’s lightly breaded, moist and delicious.

Catfish filets topped with crawfish etouffe

On the “Personal Favorites!” section of the menu is a delightful surprise for diners who like flavor combinations.  It’s blackened salmon chipotle, salmon lightly glazed with raspberry chipotle and served on a bed of herbed rice and red beans and sausage.  On the Mississippi Gulf Coast, blackened entrees are de rigueur, but not many restaurants blacken salmon.  Give the Cajun Kitchen an “A” for originality and high marks for execution, too.  This entree is surprisingly good with a flavor profile that includes piquant, savory, sweet, smoky and tangy combinations.

A highlight of any meal at the Cajun Kitchen is the buttery, toasted French bread.  It’s accompaniment for most of the non-sandwich options, but so good you might want a slice or two even with a po boy, so good it doesn’t need butter or any topping.  This stellar bread is wonderful for dredging up any of the wonderful sauces and roux.  The only problem with this bread is that you’ll have a few slices too many and might not finish some of the other Cajun delights.

Oyster Po Boy with seasoned fries

Among the Cajun specialties no self-respecting Cajun restaurant would be without are po boys.  While some essayists will tell you a po boy is essentially synonymous with other sandwich types–submarines, heroes, grinders and others, Louisiana natives will argue that the po boy is different, that it’s better.  One of the things that distinguishes the po boy from other sub-type sandwiches is the French bread, baked into two-foot-long “sticks” then sliced into “half” (a six-inch sandwich called a “Shorty”) and “full” at a full foot long.  Po boy are served “dressed” with lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise with pickles and onions optional. Traditional po boys are served hot.  That’s the way the Cajun Kitchen makes them.  The po boy menu includes catfish, crawfish, shrimp, oyster, a shrimp-oyster combination, blackened catfish and chicken.  Po boys are served with red beans and rice or seasoned fries.

Though portions tend to be very generous, diners should never leave the Cajun Kitchen without finishing their meal with Lynn Hebert’s famous bread pudding, a version my friend Larry McGoldrick,  New Mexico’s preeminent expert on bread pudding rates among New Mexico’s best.  His assessment of the Cajun Kitchen’s bread pudding: “smooth, velvety texture, and the taste is enhanced by a light honey-based syrup and a slight cinnamon taste.  Pretty delicate dessert.”  The only thing I’ll add is that this bread pudding isn’t cloying as some syrup-enhanced bread puddings tend to be.

Lynn Hebert's famous Bread Pudding, one of Albuquerque's very best

Cajun Kitchen has been our respite when missing the Mississippi Gulf Coast, a terrific reminder of that there is laissez bon temps rouler in New Mexico.

The Cajun Kitchen
5505 Osuna, N.E.
Albuquerque, New Mexico
344-5355

LATEST VISIT: 3 March 2011
# OF VISITS: 10
RATING: 19
COST: $$
BEST BET: Fried Crawfish, Fisherman’s Platter, Crawfish Bisque, Garlic Bread, Crawfish Etouffee, Chicken Sauce Piquant, Beans and Rice, Oyster Po Boy, Seafood Gumbo, Bread Pudding

Cajun Kitchen on Urbanspoon

Mardi Gras Grill – Albuquerque, New Mexico (CLOSED)

Mardi Gras on the southwest intersection of Broadway and Avenida Caesar Chavez

Mardi Gras on the southwest intersection of Broadway and Avenida Caesar Chavez

Over the centuries, Mardi Gras has evolved in America from a sedate French Catholic tradition to a hedonist’s holiday in which revelers indulge–and overindulge–the day before Ash Wednesday.  Every year Mardi Gras celebrations lure millions of rollickers and revelers to New Orleans where Mardi Gras is celebrated in grand scale.  Extravagant parades, masked balls, raucous convivality and copious consumption are hallmarks of the Crescent City event where shouts of “Laissez les bon temps rouler” (Let the good times roll) resound from rooftops and alleyways.

Laissez les bon temps rouler is also now the resounding sentiment from Albuquerque’s South Valley where in February, 2009, a new Cajun restaurant opened for business.  Now Duke City diners can celebrate “Fat Tuesday” five days a week instead of once a year.  Appropriately, Albuquerque’s newest Cajun eating emporium is named the Mardi Gras Grill.

Situated on the southeast intersection of Avenida Caesar Chavez and Broadway, the Mardi Gras Grill is an example of a neighborhood revitalization and community development program that is working.  The South Broadway neighborhood was once among the city’s most undesirable with substance abuse and gang violence a thriving part of the fabric of the neighborhood.

Laissez Bon Temps Roulette

Laissez Bon Temps Roulette

Proprietor Josh Salaz is proud of his neighborhood and invites all Duke City residents, but in particular Cajun country transplants, to visit his New Orleans inspired restaurant.  Josh’s father is originally from Algiers, Louisiana, a community within the city of New Orleans and home to a number of New Orleans Mardi Gras carnival krewes.  Mardi Gras and Cajun cooking are in Josh’s blood.  Better yet, his father’s family recipes are in his repertoire.

The Mardi Gras Grill is a relatively small–yet very cozy and inviting–restaurant with fewer than ten tables.  It is festooned in the Mardi Gras colors of purple (representing justice), green (representing faith) and gold (representing power).  A soundtrack of festive New Orleans jazz plays continuously.

The restaurant reminded us instantly of some of the wonderful hole-in-the-wall restaurants we discovered during the eight years we lived outside of “The Big Easy.”  Sure New Orleans has some of the most highly regarded and popular restaurants in America, but save for special events, most “real people” eat in the small mom-and-pops.  The Mardi Gras Grill would fit right in with those.

Sausage, chicken and shrimp gumbo

Sausage, chicken and shrimp gumbo

The menu belies the restaurant’s cramped quarters.  In fact, it’s downright ambitious considering both the diminutiveness of the restaurant’s size and the greatness of distance to Bayou country.  Josh has crawfish flown in from New Orleans and after auditioning several distributors, has found one that keeps him well-stocked in more than passable shrimp and surprisingly good Andouille sausage.

The menu features only two appetizers, but one is a Cajun country standard–fried okra served with a zesty Remoulade sauce.   Also available are five po-boys, the traditional Louisiana submarine sandwich served on a baguette-like Louisiana French bread.  The po-boys are available dressed (generally lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise with onion and pickles optional) or undressed.   Six seafood dishes grace the menu, too, as do two rice dishes and two burgers (including Josh’s Bayou Burger which is topped with sauteed onions, bell peppers and mushrooms with Swiss cheese and mayo).

The proof, as it’s been said, is in the pudding–or in the case of Cajun food, in the gumbo.  Josh’s rendition is made with chicken, shrimp and Andouille sausage served on top of a bed of white rice.  This gumbo passes muster!  Its thick, hearty broth has a smoky bouquet and a nice spice kick (not the piquancy of New Mexico green chile, but a respectable kick).  The roux (an amalgam of butter and flour cooked over low heat) is lighter than we’ve seen at other Cajun restaurants in New Mexico, an indication that it isn’t just this side of being burned.  It’s also subtle–solid and rich while allowing other ingredients to shine.  The Andouille sausage is very good–coarse grained the way it should be with a pronounced smokiness.

Crawfish and shrimp etouffe

Crawfish and shrimp etouffe

The roux in the crawfish and shrimp etouffee is also lighter (and not as orange-red) than we we’ve seen in New Mexico, but in line with some of our favorite New Orleans Cajun and Creole kitchens.  The Mardi Gras Grill’s etouffee, which means “smothered,” is made with a beautiful brownish sauce replete with red bell pepper, onion and celery (the “Trinity” of Creole cuisine) along with a dose of cayenne pepper for added piquancy.  The crawfish and shrimp are cooked to perfection and are as tender and flavorful as if these buttery crustaceans were caught from local waters.

A basketful of French bread accompanies the seafood dishes.  Its flaky crust and soft, airy center is the perfect canvas for butter or for sopping up any surplus sauces.  Not too dense and not too airy, it is as ideal for po-boys as it is as a side.  True to New Orleans style French bread, this one leaves copious crumbs on the table.

On Saturdays, in-season, the restaurant features a Louisiana style crawfish boil served with whole crawfish, smoked sausage, Cajun boiled corn on the cob and boiled Cajun potatoes.  Memories of ninety percent humidity, ninety degree heat days in the sun flooded back as the crawfish approached our table, its unmistakably familiar steamy aromas wafting toward us.

Crawfish boil

Crawfish boil

Crawfish boils are about peeling tails and sucking heads and you get to do a lot of that with the generous portion served at the Mardi Gras Grill.  The crawfish are meaty and succulent.  Served on newspaper, you’ll quickly dispatch of this seafood bounty.

During an upcoming trip back to Bayou country, Josh plans on locating a vendor who can supply him with the inimitable Italian bread on which New Orleans restaurateurs craft muffulettas.  The large, round and somewhat flat loaf about ten-inches across isn’t easy to duplicate, but Albuquerque is ready for an outstanding muffulettas and Josh may just be the man to provide it.  In fact, he may just be the guy to bring New Orleans back to Albuquerque–or at least a semblance of its kitchens.

Mardi Gras Grill
1402 Broadway, S.E.
Albuquerque, New Mexico
(505) 242-4299
LATEST VISIT:  21 March 2009
# OF VISITS: 1
RATING: *
COST: $$
BEST BET: Crawfish Boil, Crawfish and Shrimp Etouffe, Gumbo

Copeland’s – Albuquerque, New Mexico (CLOSED)

Copeland's, offering a taste of New Orleans

Copeland's, offering a taste of New Orleans

Having lived 90 miles outside of “The Big Easy” for almost eight years, we were naturally filled with the spirit of laissez les bon temps roulette (let the good times roll) when we found out the 48th Copeland’s restaurant in America was launching on our backyard in Albuquerque’s West side in November, 2001.

We had been back in Albuquerque for six years and were experiencing withdrawal symptoms that only a fix of heartily spiced Cajun cuisine could quell. Copeland’s we thought would be a welcome breath of fresh air for the Duke City, albeit not the steamy, salt-kissed air of the Louisiana coast.

Copeland’s is a restaurant with which we were quite familiar when it wasn’t the national presence it is today, but a regional chain founded in 1983 and firmly ensconced in a tough Cajun market. Brainchild of restaurant impresario Al Copeland (who also founded Popeye’s and Zea’s), Copeland’s was a relatively inexpensive alternative to more costly Cajun restaurants in the Crescent City area.

Cajun appetizer sampler

Cajun appetizer sampler

In terms of ambience and attitude, Copeland’s doesn’t really provide the type of sensory bombardment reminiscent of Mardi Gras in which excess is celebrated. In fact, it is relatively low-key compared to some New Orleans restaurants we frequented.

A soundtrack of blues, jazz and boogie-woogie plays continuously but not loud enough to drown out the hushed volume conversations inspired by mood lighting.

The restaurant is thankfully not festooned in the cliché and overdone Mardi Gras colors of purple (representing justice), green (representing faith) and gold (representing power) but in the colors of purple, black and red which are traditionally Lenten colors.

The wait staff, often adorned with traditional Mardi Gras beads and thematic ties is at your beck and call without being disruptive. We’ve rarely visited Copeland’s when a manager hasn’t dropped by our table to ensure our satisfaction.

The menu is replete with the confusingly intertwined cuisines characterized as Cajun and Creole. Cajun cuisine is said to have its genesis in the cooking of peasant Acadian populations who lived in Southern Louisiana’s swamps. It is more heavily spiced and pungent. Creole food is said to be more refined and subtle with its basis being French traditions but with influences from Spain, the West Indies, Africa and more. Native Louisianans might tell you that Cajun is country while Creole is city, that Cajun is cooking while Creole is cuisine. The truth is, any meaningful distinction between the two has been lost over time and the two terms seem to be used interchangeably.

Many of the entrees at Copeland’s are well-seasoned and redolent with the olfactory arousing aromas of complementary ingredients (onions, bell pepper, garlic, celery, parsley and green onions chief among them) and dark brown (Cajun) or tomato-based (Creole) roux. You’ll also find several heavily spiced and piquant blackened fish entrees as well as rich, voluptuous desserts. It’s no wonder Mark Twain said in 1884 that “New Orleans food is as delicious as the less criminal forms of sin.”

Gumbo ya ya

Gumbo ya ya

That being said, Copeland’s just doesn’t do Cajun or Creole quite as well as many of the restaurants we frequented in New Orleans’ French Quarter or Garden District. We have occasionally been disappointed in the absence of addictive flavors we knew so well. That’s especially true when we order seafood entrees such as the prodigious seafood platter, an assemblage of fried and heavily battered catfish, oysters, shrimp and crawfish tails served with a mountain of fries and a tangle of fried onion strings. Perhaps as a consequence to being in land-locked New Mexico, the seafood just doesn’t have that “just off the boat” taste you can get in Louisiana.

Likewise, several of the seafood-based sandwiches we’ve tried have been mundane at best. Served on a toasted bun the size of the tires on my car, the dwarfish crab cake sandwich just doesn’t captivate our taste buds as might the same sandwich in Opaloosa, Louisiana. Made with lump crabmeat mixed with onions, bell pepper, celery and seasonings, this crab meat creation is almost as boring as fish sticks out of a box. Even worse is the oyster po’boy on New Orleans French bread, inferior by far than its New Orleans counterpart. Perhaps masked by breading, the fried oysters don’t have that flavor burst that typifies oysters on the best po’boys.

Among the appetizers, we have been ensnared by Cajun pot stickers, spicy, pan-fried then steamed pork filled dumplings covered in a creamy tasso (a flavoring agent made from lean, highly-seasoned pork) sauce. Tragically, this appetizer gem isn’t always on the menu. Better than any of the appetizers is an apple, pear and candied pecan salad with Maytag blue cheese and drizzled with a citrus vinaigrette. The sharpness of the blue cheese contrasts nicely with the candied pecans.

Where Copeland’s does succeed is in the preparation of traditional sauce-based entrees such as the crawfish etouffee (a French word for “smother”), a tangy Cajun stew made with garlic, green onions, spices and a dark roux (a mixture of flour and fat that’s slowly cooked until brown) served over rice. This stupendous stew is one of the most flavorable entrees on Copeland’s menu.

Copeland’s also holds fast to New Orleans traditions with the quintessential Big Easy dish of red beans and rice with andouille sausage. Traditionally served on Mondays, it’s good any day of the week (albeit somewhat salty at times).

Also quite good is Copeland’s gumbo (a corruption of the African name for okra, one of the vegetables used as a thickening agent) which is also served over rice. Unlike etouffee, gumbo is considered a soup, but it’s a thick, hearty soup which explodes with flavor. The gumbo featuring chicken and andouille sausage is classic.

Hearty portions may mean foregoing dessert and that would be too bad because Copeland’s serves a wonderful white chocolate bread pudding. A thick layer of decadent white chocolate covers a thick slice of spongy bread while a strawberry-based sauce decorates the plate. You couldn’t call yourself a true Cajun restaurant without a good bread pudding and Copeland’s passes muster here.

Lastly, you can’t have Cajun and Creole food without the original Barq’s Root Beer, the root beer with bite. Barq’s was first brewed in my old stomping grounds of Biloxi, Mississippi in 1898. It’s a “different” kind of root beer with a higher level of carbonation and without the cloying sweetness of other root beers. Not especially foamy, it’s the official root beer of the Deep South and a long-time favorite of mine.

Copeland’s
10051 Coors, N.W.
Albuquerque, NN
LATEST VISIT: 10 March 2006
# OF VISITS: 14
RATING: 18
COST: $$$
BEST BET: Cajun Pot stickers, Crawfish Etouffe