Acadiana

To celebrate Steph’s promotion to Colonel, I gathered together with three former coworkers turned good friends for a night out at Acadiana on New York and 9th. A lovely day, it was still a bit chilly for al fresca dining so we opted for an inside table as soon as our party gathered. Steph was running a bit late, so Jen, Jackie and I waited at the bar where they had a decent number of Abitas on tap. I chose a gin and basil cocktail though from their signature menu which I do not recommend. Tart.

Waiting, I tried to pinpoint the type of person who would enjoy frequenting this restaurant and the only thing that came to mind was: tourist. Nothing about the restaurant read DC: from the Cajun menu to the bland décor in an odd location overpowered by more Caps fans than Cap and Traders or trendsetters.

When Steph finally arrived, we took our seats where an overly ambitious waiter tried to take my unfinished drink from me at the risk of his tip. What I needed was food though. Thankfully, the biscuits came out complimented by a strange honey and mayonnaise concoction sure to turn my stomach later, but too good to resist now. Scarffing down a second basket of biscuits, my starter trio of soups arrived. I was the only one to order an appetizer, but at Darryl’s recommendation, I needed to try this dish. They were off to a bad start and I wanted a positive.

Each soup came in a tiny square demitasse lined horizontally along a long plate. The first was a tomato-based soup that the waiter pronounced 3 times to my complete lack of comprehension. Tangy and ok. The second soup was a crab and corn bisque which was probably my favorite of the three. Creamy with a slight kick. I unfortunately saved the worst for last: a chicken gumbo overly peppered with smoky, uncomplimentary spices.

My main dish was the snapper with pine nuts. Mistake. First, I am deathly afraid of any fish that may have fish bones in it from a childhood incident where I watched my father choke half to death on a fish bone stuck in his throat. If only… I digress. Plus, such fish is sometimes served with the head still on, especially at ethnic places. If any animal comes out on my plate still looking like the animal it once was, it is sure to head straight back to the kitchen. Nevertheless, it is rare for me to order such a fish, but I do like a snapper and I don’t find snapper on the east often. This means the restaurant is either adept at importing pacific fish and likely has its own fisheries, or my snapper was frozen and trucked across country as if I ordered it in Omaha. I have this thing about ordering fish when I’m not near water. So what made this dish even worse than the risk of ordering a boney fish? Every pine nut I crunched in my mouth I thought was a bone. And one was actually a bone. So I was forced to turn the fish into the consistency of the mashed sweet potatoes that accompanied the dish before forking its way to my mouth. It was also served with swiss chard which I didn’t touch and supposedly doused in a citrus butter, which didn’t come through. The final thing that made this dish such a bad choice was it came skin on and skin up. Fish skin. Seriously? Perhaps chef Brant Tesky learned this was a fancy way to serve up snapper, but it just reads “fish with head still on it.”

Everybody else seemed to enjoy their meal. Steph in her uncomplicated description of her blackened redfish, covered in a crab sauce, called it “good.” Jackie had the duck, which she described as tangy and citrus based: neither flavor was in the menu description. And poor Jen, who is not a seafood fan, was faced with limited menu choices. She ended up with a grilled romaine salad. Yes, the lettuce was actually grilled. She liked it. I found it strange. The macerated figs and farmers cheese made it for her, although I prefer to macerate my own food versus the restaurant doing it for me.

Neither I or Jen thought to check the menu beforehand as we normally do to ensure there are enough choices for a younger palette. In this case, there were not enough choices. They had every flavor of fish imaginable, but only one steak dish and not a lick of chicken on the menu. Call me crazy, but Cajun ought to have some chicken. Hello Popeyes! Which is exactly where I’ll have to go the next time I crave Cajun in DC because Acadiana is permanently off my list.

Bad service. Crappy drinks. Scary fish. No menu variety. Bland décor. And lets just add the fact it is in a neighborhood with the new 10pm meters as if it were some sort of real destination dining establishment. Insulting. The only compliment I can give Acadiana are its biscuits, but really: how hard is it to pop some pilsburys in the oven and douse them in honey. I can do that at home.

I was so disappointed that a place related to a couple of my favorites, namely Ceiba and DC Coast, could produce such a meal. I’m not surprised for the bad service given the relation to my nemesis restaurant TenPehn, but come on guys!

Thankfully the evening was rescued by my great company.

http://www.acadianarestaurant.com/