1165 E. McNeese St • Lake Charles • 990-4871
The Local Grubscape • By Justin Morris
It was a cool, fall Friday afternoon in the Lake City, and I, like many fine folk, was bidding the workweek adieu and getting ready to get my weekend on. Busy day, so I didn’t take much time for lunch. By 4:30, it was time for food. Yeah … food and a beer.
With the veritable disaster that the interstates seem to be these days, keeping it close and in town was critical — certainly at that time of day. Good news was that I’d be beating the dinner crowd and would likely be at my dining destination before many had even finished locking up their offices for the day.
But where to go? I’d had a little lunch, so I wasn’t buffet-level hungry, but I also wasn’t quite on the “deconstructed oxygen-infused foam on water crackers” side of hungry, either. And beer. I wanted beer. It was a Friday afternoon after all.
That requirement surely did the trick, because when you think of beer, it’s hard to not think of Crying Eagle Brewing. And they just so happened to have opened their Bistro earlier this year. I hadn’t taken the opportunity to see what it was all about yet, so, wheels south, I headed for “The Nest.”
I pulled up at 5:05 pm, and was almost concerned that no one was there. Judging by the state of the parking lot, it wasn’t a completely unfair conclusion, but a wrong one, as I soon found. The bar, gift shop and bistro were all staffed up; the marketing director was all abuzz getting ready for a big corporate event scheduled later that evening; and the place was all spruced up in spooky holiday décor.
To my right as I entered, where the indoor stage and roll-up door used to reside, now stood The Bistro in a nifty little expansion built off the east side of the building. It’s a cute and quaint setup, but one that’s well equipped to exceed your expectations.
One may get the initial impression that this place serves “bar food” simply because it is in a brewery taproom and it is, for all intents and purposes, the king of all bars. That’s not the case, though.
The pizza isn’t “hot and ready/heat cabinet style.” They’re hand-rolled and cooked in a big open stone oven. The burgers aren’t just 80/20 grease patties. They are big, beefy man burgers topped with things like egg and bacon jam and even served up with boudin patties on them, should you like. They don’t mess around on the sandwich front, either. A three-meat panini with sriracha mayo, a beer brat sandwich smothered in onions and sauerkraut, and a lobster roll piled with butter-drowned Maine lobster chunks are just a few of the highlights. This is hardly “bar food.”
As much as I wanted to try them all to report back to you fine folks, that was simply not in the cards, nor will it be until I gather up another stomach or two. So my conundrum was “Which one?”
As I stood at the counter and pondered, the friendly young gal behind the register mentioned that they had something new — a meatball sandwich, which, despite the fact that I am a huge Italian food fan, I rarely, if ever get. While they are tasty, due to people’s love of “big-a meat-a balls” (if for no other reason but to say that phrase in a grotesque interpretation of an Italian accent), they tend to not be very structurally sound, and I can appease my palate with all those magnorific Italian flavors in a much more manageable form.
It wasn’t until another member of the staff chimed in about how good he thought it was and told me about the handmade meatballs and the scratch-made marinara that I was convinced to give the “new thing” a try, despite its potential engineering flaws.
Trusty “order up” buzzer in hand, I gravitated over to the tap wall to see what was new and fresh from the lads of the Crying Eagle Brewing operation. I’ve enjoyed the packaged releases that the Lake City’s “little brewery that could” has put out, but I’ll still say that there’s nothing really quite like the creations that brew master Bill Mungai and crew serve only in the tap room.
There were a bevy of bubbly brews to choose from, including Third Wheel Belgian Triple, Saison des Fetes Nelson (using experimental hops) and the aptly seasonal Marzen Lager and Festbeir, it being October and all.
I, however, ventured towards something else that piqued my curiosity. This was the XJA Dry Hopped Saison that was made with South African hops. The young woman at the bar, a self-proclaimed “hophead,” admitted that she hadn’t tried it yet either, and she pulled us each a sample. The light, near fruity character of saisons made for a nice counter to the bright and bitter hoppiness, keeping it from becoming alkaline or too stringent.
We tried the Nelson as well, which went with a deeper and earthier hoppiness. But I settled on a large snifter-shaped Belgian style beer glass of the XJA and wandered off to find a place to perch and wait on my food.
The pending corporate event left the ground level courtyard off limits. But a trip upstairs to the loft led me to a balcony where I could perch, smoke and enjoy the lovely afternoon. By the time I had my personal blend rolled up and ready to go, the dutiful little buzzer angrily performed its task. While it buzzed madly away on the metal stool next to me, I packed away my indulgence for later and wandered back down to The Bistro to see what awaited me.
To start, the typically physics-defying size of the average meatball was not present in this sandwich. While that might be a little disappointing if you bring a bovine-like appetite or are just ruined by the predisposed expectations of planetoid-esque meatballs, in my opinion it was as near to the perfect balance between substance and structural integrity that one can achieve for a meatball sandwich.
The next critical element was the sauce, which, in this incarnation, was a blend of marinara and mozzarella so thermally precise that it was warm enough to eat but cool enough that the veritable fistful of mozzarella almost gave the sauce structure, like a cheese stick without the breading and the marinara built in.
Finally, there was the bread — well, the word “bread” might not exactly cut it. The toasted garlic loaf they used as bread for this sandwich was the special nudge to take this thing over the centerfield wall. I’ve never had bona fide garlic bread on a meatball sub. That same salty, buttery and garlicy thing you like so much with your spaghetti not only completes the palette experience of this sandwich, but, for me, was an almost nostalgic nod to my family’s choice of garlic bread instead of breadsticks with spaghetti when I was growing up. It very well could be my preferred (not “best” but my favorite) meatball sandwich in the Lake City.
Now, as great as the sandwich was, I do have to mention its on-the-plate-compatriots: a handful of Lays and a quarter pickle spear. I like both of these things, but I have to say that they looked a little — I don’t want to say sad — maybe a bit wanting or out of place next to that sandwich. And when I saw that those were the same accoutrements to the luxe Lobster Roll, it bothered me a bit more. I think these offerings are just a step or two below their entrees, and it could soften the impression that should be made with what’s going on food-wise here.
Without having a, say, “traditional” dining space, and given that this food is served in — as far as the public is concerned — essentially a craft beer bar, beating the de facto notion of “bar food” is already going to be tough, as it is. I know fryers are messy, expensive, and need outdoor waste grease storage space and disposal services. Those factors are all a real drag, I know, but I think that hot sides would not only better serve the high-quality product being put out, but open up some really big options, as well. It doesn’t have to be just fries and rings. I’ve had flash fried parmesan truffle brussels sprouts at a burger joint in Texas. The Italian menu could jibe with some of the popular fried appetizers, like fried ravioli, cheese sticks and fried calamari, that could really lend some weight to the menu, overall value and quality.
Even with its pitfalls, a fryer would be an investment that I think would pay for itself, times over, in time. This is less a critique and more something that I just really think would serve this operation well.
That takes nothing away from what is going on here. The setup was awesome, the staff was great, and the food was really good and really quick, not to mention that you’ve got the Lake Area’s finest craft brews all on tap just a few yards away.
The Bistro, like everything I’ve seen from Crying Eagle, is something new, fueled by passion, well done and distinctly Lake Charles. If you haven’t been yet, I strongly encourage you do so, tell ‘em I sent ya, and have a pint for me.
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