While I was in New Orleans a few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of eating at Cochon. And now when I think about the place, I start salivating.
I learned of the restaurant on a morning bike ride. I can’t remember your name—but thank you so much, Patience from Austin, Texas, for telling me about this treasure; I was growing tired of fried seafood poboys.
Cochon, I learned, means “pig” in French. And this makes sense since they cook up an assortment of pig parts. On an almost daily basis, local pigs are delivered to the in-house boucherie. The restaurant has a bit of a diner feel to it on account of the spartan booths and bar. All the furniture is made of sleek, nude wood and the walls are warm shades of orange and yellow. I imagine the place takes on a different vibe at night when the bar’s main function is for drinking bourbon, rather than watching the chef. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten at a restaurant that boasts a James Beard award recipient. One of the chefs, Donald Link, was the 2007 Best Chef of the South; Cochon was nominated for best new restaurant. The restaurant opened in April 2006.
Everything on the menu sounded adventurous and tasty. I settled on the pig cheeks (yes, facial cheeks) at the recommendation of my waitress, Julie. I also ordered smothered greens and an Abita amber.
For dessert, the house-made buttermilk blueberry ice cream was very tempting, but when I waffled between the ice cream and the custard, there was no contest. Julie gave me a quick, decisive, “The custard.” Chocolate and chicory custard with cayenne whipped cream. It was luscious; the cayenne didn’t add much taste-wise, but it imparted a nice warmth to the chilled, creamy custard.