Miami Spice: Christabelle’s Quarter

You don’t need to have a sense of wonder to dig Christabelle’s Quarter, but it helps, if only to take in the full wondrousness of the place—not to mention its sense of high history. Ornate chandeliers, of which there are 38, come from more than a dozen countries and are between 50 and 200 years old, with most clocking in on the far side of a century. Numerous French doors, which span an entire ground-floor wall, were torn from the rubble of Katrina and continue to retain their sad and tragic waterline. Three bars, each 60 feet long, were hand–crafted in England and brought in to anchor every floor, themselves a hodgepodge of many marbles and aged wood. And up in the suitably–suited La Boheme level, if your ego can get by the mammoth mirror, you’ll be greeted by a 17th century Aubusson tapestry depicting one of Antony and Cleopatra’s more torrid love scenes.

Best, none of the above even begin to describe what’s inside this attentively reproduced Big Easy mansion, from its reverentially–colored stained glass and its continuously-flickering gas lamps, to the secluded leather booths and army of antique chairs, many of which rest at the foot of a 250–year–old fireplace which seems to have been heisted from the court of Louis XIV.

Fancy fixtures aside, a restaurant is only as good as its food, which just so happens to be equally terrific, and with the recent appointment of former French Quarter kingpin Keith Becton to the executive chef position Christabelle's has its kitchen sorted to swing—and to sate.

Sure Christabelle’s is open for lunch, and the Cajun-fried oyster salad and open–faced salmon sandwich make for a nice midday meal, but to really experience the full Miami Spice bang for the buck, you’ll wanna hit this row house for dinner, when the whole menu is made from Becton’s Big Easy blueprint of classic Cajun French Creole.

Starters vie between the Creole tomato carpaccio and grilled jumbo shrimp or the fried calamari and jicama (read: yam bean) salad, both sprinkled in vinaigrette of either roasted pepper or guava nectar. Mains are either the Abita beer marinated pork chop, the grilled churrasco or a perfect potato–crusted redfish, coming, in turn, with fricassee of wild mushrooms, anchovy chili pesto and yuca mash, or spicy arrugula and satsuma chutney. And one can wind it all up with the bananas Foster crème brule while the other opts for the chocolate sin torte, since you’ll undoubtedly be sharing both.

Still, with so much to savor there’s no need to rush things (NOLA’s not called the Big Easy because of its speed). So you may as well sidle up to one of the onyx–topped bars and grab yourself a Belle’s hurricane or a Turbodog before you’re seated to eat. This way you can take in all that wonder without wondering how to dine while your eyes wander ‘round the room.