Meat Me at the Roasthouse

Although we were told the mains came à la carte, the tenderloin arrived with a crown of baby squash and sautéed carrots on the side, and the lamb chop was garnished with a medley of whole baby carrots, sliced asparagus, and artichoke hearts. But the three sides we ordered were so fabulous that we didn't regret a one: unbelievably cheesily and creamily decadent scalloped potatoes au gratin ($10); exquisitely fried onion rings ($9), impossible to duplicate in a home deep fryer — you need a huge restaurant one so that the oil stays hot enough to crisp them up; and the surprise hit, truffled cauliflower ($9), in a unique presentation: a thick slice cut from the whole cauliflower, florets intact. The inexpensive pungent vegetable was gloriously enhanced by the expensive pungent fungus.

We could have stopped right there: Big prices here are matched by big portions, and only the tenderloin orderer cleaned her plate. But we had to try the beignets — four big powder-dusted ones, served in a brown paper bag, with a glass of luscious New Orleans coffee enriched with soft meringue alongside for dipping purposes. This was a combination richer and more fun than the famous duo served at N'Awlins' Cafe du Monde. The Epic Rocky Road sundae was also very seductive: buttery chocolate ice cream topped with house-made marshmallows, candied walnuts, brownie chunks, and caramel sauce.

What I like about New Orleans cooking is that it's about good eating, pure and simple, and unafraid of richness. Only the sundae was "deconstructed." We're not talking molecular gastronomy, or wacky combinations of flavors, or pitting unfamiliar and unexpected textures against each other. It's deliciousness. It's gourmandise. It's gluttony. And, at the right table, with a view of the bridge rather than the kitchen brigade, it approaches divinity.