Long ago, I used to frequent Brown Bar. I was barely 21 (ok, so it wasn’t that long ago), why would I hang out in a low-lit lounge best known for harboring Capitol cogs and pouring stiff martinis?
Jack. My beloved bartender/buddy/reason I always write about how much I love Lanai (where he is now GM). As three giggly 21-year-olds pulled up stools to his bar, Jack talked to us, gave us advice, teased and flirted with us, and taught us many things about life. We also infused breathy, girly energy into his sometimes staid bar, dancing when no one else would, requesting Rhianna songs to the chagrin of his cooler-than-thou DJ. Occasionally, we came in hungry. You could order food from next-door Gumbo’s, but the brie plate was the extent of our culinary forays into the Louisiana-Style Cafe.
When Jack left Brown Bar, so did we, and I haven’t given the old Brown Building much thought since. But when an invite to sample some of Gumbo’s wares crossed my inbox, memories of those summer (and fall, and winter, and spring) nights flooded back, and I decided I MUST go, to try the things I never did when we were boozing at Brown Bar.
Enter the fried oyster pictured below.
The meaty oystery part is fried, served atop a bed of creamed spinach that fills the oyster shell. It makes me feel somehow more complete, like I’m really eating a full oyster despite the fact that oysters in their natural habitat probably don’t have spinach growing in them.
As someone who has tried quite a few oysters lately (thanks, Perla’s, and I’ll be seeing ya soon, Shuck Shack), I can say with some (very little) authority that this is the best oyster I’ve had. Sure, it’s fried and it’s hard to mess up something fried. But fried things often give me the heebyjeebies, because you never know what’s hiding under there, so when I think a fried thing is good, it MUST BE.
They also served a tenderloin (sad, unhappy cow BUT the BEST unhappy cow in the nation … the top 5%) where the meat was delicious but the sauce was plain. Which is fine with me, you don’t even really need to sauce my meat. A fellow reveler revealed that she comes here for the meat–and thinks it’s better than anywhere else in town. That’s some bold talk right there.
Crab cakes were next: 
And like fried things, crab cakes are hard to screw up mainly because crab is so dang delicious. Luckily, this crab cake didn’t disappoint. Yum.
I heard the redfish was delish, but I didn’t nab any, so I can’t really speak to that.
I think Gumbo’s, like Brown Bar, is often thought of as an “older” joint, but we (twentysomethings? thirtysomethings?) need to take it back as our own. I hope to make it back for a full dinner soon. (Pssst: Brown Bar serves Gumbo’s apps at Half Price from 5:30-7pm every weekday)
Plus, they’re opening in Westlake in the old Chili’s at Davenport Village. That 2222/360 area features few good restaurants, so I can imagine the lunch and dinner crowds will be brisk. Opens within a month!
3 comments for “Remembering Brown Bar and Discovering Gumbo’s”