Put a Tiger in Your Tank

May 9, 2008

Nope, this is not a piece about Esso gasoline (remember that old advert?) nor the LSU Tigers (well, not precisely).  I haven't found a restaurant serving exotic filet of tiger and I'm not digging into a bag of Zapp's LSU Tiger Tators/Cajun Crawtator chips.  It may be coincidence, but  two new restaurants have recently come on the scene: Tiger's Creole Cuisine and Tiger Diner.  Stomach growling, I turned my sights to lunch and my eyes  on the tigers...

For quite some time, Miss Debbie, an employee at Stein's Market and Deli, has been telling me about Tiger's.  "Miss Lorin, I ate at Tiger's again.  Have you been yet?  I really like the food from there, you gotta try it." Located on Basin Street, almost to Claiborne, Tiger's Creole Cuisine is an oasis of a sort - charming, cool, walls softly painted in taupe, accents of bold orange and black - in a neighborhood that's seen a better day.  A large flat-screen television displays the menu and daily specials.  Dining with a friend meant a wider array of dishes to try, including fried chicken, fried catfish, butter beans, greens, potato salad, and black-eyed peas.  The fried food blew us away with a light, crisp, well-seasoned batter and absolutely no greasiness.  Pale gold, the thin, plank-sized catfish filet was flaky, tender and terrific.  Darker colored, the fried chicken wings crackled at every bite.  The big bowl of cottony butter beans redolent with the vinegary taste of pickle meat, disappeared fast.  Mustard greens and black-eyed peas tasted of Trappey's fame,  but the potato salad was a house-made mustardy classic with flecks of sweet relish. Daily specials, Poboys of every stripe, comforting side dishes like sticky sweet candied yams, mashed potatoes and more; salads; wings; and a pork chop basket, fills out the menu.  There's also glass after glass of really good, cooling  "Unsweet Tea."  Tiger's is open week-days from 11am to 7pm, 

Tiger Diner on Airline Drive is already infamous for it's exterior paint-job - a brash striping of bright purple and glaring gold.  It may not be the most attractive building from the outside and the interior borders on the obsessive with LSU decorations, nonetheless as diners go, this one has promise.  Incongruously, amid the wiry, bustling line-cooks, walks an older gentleman wearing a chef's jacket and tall toque.  Cute as he may be, he's a bit out of place and no one could exactly say what he does except ask everyone to call him "chef."  The staff is enthusiastic, declaring that every dish is "the best you'll ever eat."  Yes and no.  On the first visit, things were rough - chalk that up to new restaurant blues.  A return trip was more successful, but still kinked.  Our $7 order of "fabulous, incredible" onion rings were surprisingly small, tasted oddly sour but were interesting to look at with their dark brown "tiger stripes."  The burger was fine, no great shakes; same for the fried chicken sandwich.  The hit that day was the BBQ Shrimp Salad with house-made Caesar dressing.  Hot, decent-sized shrimp, cooked in buttery, herb-speckled sauce, were tossed atop a cool bed of fresh, dark salad greens, dressing and extra "bbq" sauce on the side were nice.  I watched grilled chicken breast and club sandwiches get devoured at one table while the Hamburger Steak was greedily inhaled at another nearby table.  Not a splashy, change-your-life dining experience, Tiger Diner offers solid, if sometimes predictable diner fare with occasional bright spots, specialty dishes (Purple & Gold Stuffed Artichoke) and a decided Louisiana kick.  If only they'd do something about that building's paint-job; notable for sure, but also downright atrocious.

Save room, no matter how you put the tiger in your tank, for killer snowballs found at the corner of Airline Drive and Roosevelt.  I was so excited about this place and the delectable snowballs, I forgot to snap pictures (sorry).  There's no name on the stand other than "snowballs," but trust me, the "Ultra Strawberry" will forever ruin you for any other strawberry snowball.  Owner Anthony Loiacano makes his own syrup (all the syrups) from fresh strawberry juice and pureed fruit.  Poured generously over slightly chunkier shaved ice, this is the snowball of dreams, and there's an "Ultra Peach" too. This guy's been in business a long, time, over 40 years he says, and all he sells is snowballs and vanilla soft-serve ice cream.  I'm smitten.