Photographs by Kevin A. Roberts
Broadway Oyster Bar
736 S. Broadway
Downtown
314-621-8811
Lunch and dinner daily
Average Main Course: $12
Dress: Come as you are–preferably dressed down.
Reservations: Arrive early to nab a stageside patio seat.
Chef: Brad Hagan
The deeply authentic funkiness of Broadway Oyster Bar tends to either charm or stun visitors. In this circa-1820 building, St. Louis’ kinship with its downriver cousin, The City That Care Forgot, is celebrated with
music and—more important—food on the Creole-Cajun axis. While its ancient interior is cozy to the point of snug, the patio is more sprawling and now enclosed. Unless you’re there for the music, though, it’s the bar and rear dining room that truly charm.
This is the land of the oyster, of course, and we’d encourage a starter of the char-grilled ones. A little easier for oyster rookies than the raw variety, they are doused in garlic butter, with a light shower of mixed cheeses, then run under a hot broiler. For those who think Gulf oysters are insipid, this is the perfect use for them. Rockefellers are creamy and have less anise flavor than some versions; Bienvilles are a little spicier, but they’re irresistible with their cheesy mushroom sauce, laden with chunks of shrimp.
And while there are po’ boy sandwiches (indeed, the Oyster Bar hosts an annual Po’ Boy Festival), the best sandwich here is the oyster grinder. Grinder is a New England name for a submarine sandwich, but this singular take includes oysters sautéed with garlic and green onions in a mild to moderately spicy sauce, the bread soaking up the hallowed juices. Divine.
Louisiana standards are well-covered, with the gumbo showing clear evidence of a carefully browned roux’s resultant depth of flavor. Jambalaya—richly studded with andouille, shrimp, and chicken—is Creole-style red, rather than the brownish Cajun variety. Red beans and rice are cooked until the beans are creamy, following the lead of countless gran’mères. And then there’s the muffuletta, the round rival to those elongated po’ boys, filled with cold cuts, cheese, and a chopped olive salad. About 10 inches across, the Oyster Bar’s muffulettas are sold in wholes, halves, or quarters, and they’re tasty hot or cold.
Consider the boiled crawfish. The restaurant’s dimly lit interior might be the ideal place to suck the heads, as many advise. The rich juices that come out are crawfish flavor writ large, an exultation of savoriness. The hybrid creation of crawfish enchiladas works surprisingly well, with a spicy cheese sauce, pico de gallo on the side, and jambalaya in place of Mexican rice. (Side note: Post-Katrina New Orleans has erupted with Mexican food from an influx of Latino construction workers; every generation adds new food to the city’s tradition, but its entrance is seldom so clearly marked.) Only the crawfish bisque disappoints, as thick as the aforementioned cheese sauce, its crawfish flavor diminished, possibly from long hours of cooking.
Bread pudding is the classic New Orleans dessert—everyone from stay-at-home mothers to chefs has their own version. The Broadway Oyster Bar’s take is at the sweet spot between chewy and falling apart, with lash-
ings of deeply liquored sauce and lots of whipped cream. It’s cooked to order, so relax with another beer or hurricane, and look forward to it.
Service is zippy unless the place is mobbed, but do remember that this is a house that serves food on metal pie plates, so don’t wear your tuxedo. The BOB has been a litmus test for first-date chowhounds—you cringe,
you lose.
The Bottom Line: Louisiana lovers can dress down—and chow down—in one of the city’s oldest buildings.
