New Orleans Eats

The Red Caboose was a novelty theme restaurant opened in Metairie's Fat City district in 1972. Its structure consisted of an actual train caboose and boxcars connected together by enclosed passageways. Entrance was made via a "terminal" connecting the caboose lounge and the dimly lit boxcar dining rooms.

Steak and prime rib were the specialties of the house. Like a lot of places of the day, a dinner consisting of prime rib, baked potato and "a trip to the salad bar" would set you back $4.95.

The illustration on the matchbook cover (above) showed an idealized version set in an open field surrounded by trees. In reality, the restaurant was shoehorned into a narrow commercial lot just like everything else in Fat City.

Red Caboose was more or less a copy of another restaurant in the French Quarter called Victoria Station, and was yet another venture hoping to capitalize on the popularity the Fat City district was enjoying in the 1970s. A second iteration was established across the river in Gretna, which lasted until 1978.

The Red Caboose in Fat City survived until about 1979. Before the train cars were removed, the site was briefly home to a travel agency. Today, the "depot" still stands, its red brick painted a dull beige. Only those who remember The Red Caboose know what it once was.

Red Caboose: Steak, 3100 N Arnoult Rd, Metairie (Metairie Above Causeway) - 889-0330 (do not call) map

Cafe Maison was established in 1974 in the French Quarter spot that had been home to the Morning Call Coffee Stand, which had famously served cafe au lait and beignet there for over a century.

The French Market Corporation had undertaken massive construction and renovation of the French Market in an effort to update it into a tourist attraction. The upheaval was so impactful on the Morning Call's business that the owner could no longer sustain the losses, and he decided to pull up stakes and move to suburban Metairie.

A lease on the vacated space was awarded, somewhat controversially, to local restaurateur Ernie Masson. A stipulation in the lease required any new venture occupying the space to continue to serve cafe au lait and beignet just as the Morning Call had done.

The cafe was originally to be called Cafe Au Lait, but another party, coincidentally an unsuccessful bidder on the lease, had already registered the name. Owner Ernie Masson might have chosen Cafe Maison not only because it (albeit incorrectly) translated to "coffee house" in French, but also because its "CM" monogram could just as easily be read "MC" (Morning Call). Masson would select another longtime veteran of the New Orleans restaurant business, Ronald "Snow" Lenfant, as general manager.

The space was built out entirely new, with no resemblance to the old Morning Call. Gone were the marble counters and fixed stools, replaced by small round tables and bent wire-backed ice cream parlor chairs.

Pancho's Mexican Buffet, with 21 restaurants already operating in the Southwest, opened a new outlet in late 1971 at 918 Gravier Street in the Central Business District. For those with a big appetite, a small budget, and a taste for Mexican food that wasn't just tacos and burritos, the words "all you can eat buffet" were magic.

918 Gravier had previously been home to a Morrison's Cafeteria. It took little to transform it into a two-story Mexican villa courtyard with a simulated starlit night sky ceiling. And by little, I mean next to nothing, really, since it looked that way when it was Morrison's.

The customer line formed behind the wraparound villa facade which served two purposes: when you entered, you wouldn't immediately see how long the line was, and seated diners could enjoy their meals without those waiting in line staring daggers at them to hurry up and vacate a table.

As you progressed along the buffet (a cafeteria line, really), you could either request items you knew the names of, or just point and grunt at what ever looked good. Flautas, chile rellenos, enchiladas, refried beans, rice, meaty red or green chile stews, and finally tacos, most likely an accommodation for younger diners. Hot line items were plated up on those rectangular sizzle servers with the pre-heated metal inserts.

Since getting back in line for refills was not logistically feasible, each table had a small metal stand with a Mexican flag. Ready for more of anything? Raise the flag and a server would come to assist you.

Once you were reasonably full, it was prudent to save room for sopapillas. Hopefully , there would be a fresh batch ready just about the time you were. Sopapillas are kind of like beignets but puffier, hollow in fact. The best way to eat them was to bite off a small corner, then drizzle honey from a small pitcher on each table into it. Make a little rolling motion with your hand to coat the inside, and enjoy!

In the Summer of 1974, another Pancho's opened in Metairie on Veterans Boulevard, in Rosedale Mall. Smaller than the downtown outlet, it thankfully offered a more convenient location as well as plenty of free parking.

This Pancho's, despite similar decor, lacked the ambiance and charm of the Downtown version. Those seated in booths along the left side might have indeed felt the stares of those waiting in line through the decorative plastic ivy. There were also what I could only characterize as medieval-looking chandeliers. Big, dark and cylindrical, I swear the dozens of amber glass "lenses" in them were those square ashtrays prevalent in restaurants back before smoking was banned.

A fixture for years at the Metairie Pancho's was a server name Rosa. Savvy diners would always try to get a table in her section, a nod to her seasoned and almost intuitive service when it came to refills of food and drink. And sopapillas.

I last encountered Rosa post-Katrina in 2005 waitressing at the Denny's on Clearview Parkway in Elmwood, thirty years after first being served by her at Pancho's. Imagine the shock to years later see a newspaper report mentioning her still working in 2021 at 2 Amigos in Kenner, an operation similar to Pancho's run by some former employees.

The Gravier Street location closed in 1981. By that time, a third had been opened at 6575 Westbank Expressway, but only lasted a few years.

A fourth would open in Chalmette in 1986, and lasted a little over a decade. The location would subsequently be home to a country and western bar, and later a funeral home.

In 2009, four years after the demise of the Veterans location, Pancho's Mexican "Super Buffet" opened on Labarre Road at Airline Highway, and legions of fans who missed it came in droves. But perhaps the nostalgia just wasn't enough to sustain it long-term, and it closed in 2012, following the shuttering of two other Louisiana locations.

Pancho's Mexican Buffet: Mexican, 918 Gravier, (CBD) - map

Pancho's Mexican Buffet: Mexican, 3780 Veterans Blvd, (Metairie Above Causeway) - map

The Tiffin Inn was a quintessentially 1960s-style pancake house breakfast place in Metairie, except for the fact that it didn't open until 1977. Walking in from the day it opened until it was forced to close in 2015 was like a trip back in time. Dark paneling, vinyl-upholstered booths (some semi-circular!), banquette seating around the perimeter, water and juices served in glass tumblers, porcelain plates and coffee cups, syrup carafes in their metal caddies, and waitresses in uniforms long out of style. Tiffin was part of a small chain founded in Baton Rouge in the 1960s, and, at the time of its closure, Metairie was the last remaining outpost.

Sunday morning patrons usually found it necessary to put their name on the list and wait to be seated. Those who couldn't fit in the small area just inside the entrance would have to wait outside. It would take several years for a narrow enclosed lobby with benches to finally be added across the front to shield those waiting from the weather. While longer some days than others, the wait never seemed untenable enough as to make one give up and go elsewhere.

Regulars would plant themselves in the banquettes under the windows along the south wall. This put the morning sun at their backs, perfect reading light for the Sunday newspaper. Before smoking was banned in restaurants, the sun streaming through the slits in the venetian blinds then through billowing smoke made for a mesmerizing display.

I don't think the menu ever changed. A number of predetermined pancake selections on the inner left side of the plastic laminated menu probably accounted for 90 percent of all the orders. Omelets likely accounted for the majority of the rest.

During busy times, the wait to place an order, let alone receive your order, could be long. A full house could overwhelm what usually seemed like a half dozen waitresses total for the entire place. But there was a kind of glue that would hold things together, and its name was Danny.

Danny was what you could call busboy extraordinaire. He had a knack for noticing if you were waiting too long for something, anything, and would take up the slack. Water, silverware, coffee refill, condiments, a missing part of your order; if you couldn't get your waitress' attention, he was on it. So good at it, in fact, was he that you could regularly observe departing patrons slipping him a few bucks directly on their way out. When not traversing the floor with his bus cart, he could be seen catching a breather (and a quick couple of drags on a cigarette) at his station in the southwest corner of the restaurant.

Tiffin Inn closed when the landlord declined to renew the lease, wanting instead to give the space for an expansion of the national chain store tenant next door. Rumors of a relocation swirled for a time, but nothing ever seemed to materialize. The iconic black and orange sign was last seen languishing in a fenced-in lot in Bucktown.

Tiffin Inn: American, 6601 Veterans Blvd, Metairie (Metairie Above Causeway) - 888-6602 (do not call) map

In the spring of 1973, Houlihan's Old Place, more commonly known as just "Houlihan's", opened at 315 Bourbon Street in the old Oriental Laundry building. It was one of the "new" places, a part of a renaissance in the French Quarter at a time the "old" places were losing-- or had already lost-- their charm. And up-and-coming Fat City in suburban Metairie was starting to give tired old Bourbon a run for its money in nightclub entertainment.

Chain restaurateurs Gilbert-Robinson chose the name when they opened the original location in Kansas City in a spot once occupied by a Houlihan's Haberdashery. Since the architect hadn't yet been given a name, he simply entered "Tom Houlihan's old place" in the space on the blueprint. The story goes that, in exchange for using his name, a table in the middle of the restaurant was kept empty, reserved for him and bearing a plaque with his name. He never sat at it, nor did he ever even visit the restaurant.

After the laundry proprietor abandoned the Bourbon Street building in the 1960s, it had been occupied for a time by a restaurant on its left side and a nightclub on the right. Houlihan's mostly preserved this division by making its right half a bar and lounge with an oyster bar.

Houlihan's was part of the influx of restaurants vying to fill a niche between fast food and fine dining, and whose decor was largely made up of a curated collection of antiquities and unusual artifacts. The idea, it seemed, was to give patrons something quirky and interesting to look at while at the same time losing track of how long it had been since they'd placed an order.

The menu featured a broad selection of trendy offerings: Appetizers, sandwiches, salads, burgers, steak, seafood, crepes, omelets. Rounding things out were espresso, desserts and soda fountain beverages. A wine list contained a few dozen domestic selections and including, cheekily, "our only imports" Mateus Rose, Blue Nun and Riunite Lambrusco.

Houlihan's became a popular destination for casual dining that felt a little more upscale than it actually was. Prices were reasonable enough that the prom crowd could afford to go there, while at the same time a guy could take a first date there and not be perceived as a cheapskate. It was equally popular for lunch and dinner.

In the latter half of the 1970s, you could always count on trendy casual dining places including a few must-haves. Two that immediately spring to mind are frozen strawberry daiquiris, and a fresh spinach salad with mushrooms tossed in a warm bacon dressing, often prepared tableside.

Houlihan's other calling card, not usually seen at this level of dining, was its French onion soup. It was served in a bowl too hot to touch with the traditional thick canopy of cheese melted over it. Paired with a sandwich and a drink, you could get out of there for under ten dollars, tax and tip included.

What Houlihan's patrons remember as its real ace-in-the-hole was the oyster bar. During certain hours, raw oysters could be had-- only while standing at the oyster bar-- for ten cents each. That and a cold draft beer in a tall glass, paradise.

The chain continues to operate across the country today, but has dropped the "Old Place". The Bourbon Street location, however, shut down rather abruptly in Spring 1996, the space subsequently occupied by a "gentlemen's club".

Houlihan's Old Place: American, 315 Bourbon St, New Orleans (French Quarter) - 523-7412 (do not call) map