But I never darkened their door on any day but Sunday and never after around 1pm
Dante’s served the finest brunch in New Orleans for the entirety of its nigh 20 year run, and if somebody tells you different feel free to put the boots to them.
How many brunch houses in New Orleans squeeze their own tomatoes for their bloody marys? Only one, Dante’s.
And as marketing gimmicks go, their big chalkboard breaking down all the local farms where they source their meats and veggies is pure genius. Dante’s Kitchen was farm to table well before the phrase became hackneyed and overplayed.
I loved their old pitbull maître d′ Neil McClure, now of McClure’s Barbecue. He was so ridiculously high strung that he always made brunch interesting as he regularly went from cool guy to dickhead in seconds flat.
I have no idea who their biscuit lady was but she patted out some of the finest I’ve ever eaten in a restaurant.
Satsuma mimosas, cheese grits topped with fried eggs served alongside alligator sausage, biscuits stuffed with preserves, barbecued shrimps….some of the best flavors I’ve ever eaten in New Orleans came out of that tiny kitchen.
Rest in peace, Dante’s, you will be sorely missed.