Press Room
THE ORANGE COUNTY REGISTER
Wednesday, July 16, 2008

BAR & GRILL OFFERS A LITTLE NEW ORLEANS IN FULLERTON

BOURBON STREET BAR & GRILL SHOOTS FOR THE FLAVOR OF THE BIG EASY.

By JENNIFER MUIR

We walked along a narrow, cobblestone path to find our table, stepped onto a concrete sidewalk curb and slid into our booth.

Street lanterns splashed soft light across the faux thoroughfare and illuminated our enclave, where we sat in front of a vibrant painting of another picturesque street. Flat-screen TVs showed baseball games on the wall across from us. Up ahead, at the front of this shadowy restaurant, a woman in a black T-shirt poured beer for a man sitting at the bar.

This is downtown Fullerton's version of New Orleans' most famous street, an anesthetized take on the landmark, reminiscent of the New York New York Hotel and Casino's interpretation of the Big Apple.

Here, at Bourbon Street Bar & Grill, there's no gum on sidewalks. No frenzied street circus swirling with drunken, bead-laden tourists, or sounds of spoons sliding across washboards or scents of stale perfume and stale alcohol. No grit.

It's a Disneyland-esque replica of one of the nation's most soulful cities, complete with a menu packed with novelty fare: think alligator, crawfish and jambalaya, and powdered-sugar-coated beignets for dessert.

"We wanted an ambience that felt a little more high-end, with food, fun and music," said first-time restaurant owner Larry Houser, who, along with two partners, opened Bourbon Street's doors on St. Patrick's Day.

The team enlisted chef Sterling Fogg – formerly of Mulberry Street, Florentine's and Stubrik's in Fullerton, and now owner of Sterling's Cucina in Huntington Beach – to create a Louisiana-style menu. And they hired a Dixieland jazz band to entertain three times a week, and a saxophonist to play solo on weekends.

On my first trip, an impromptu casual dinner with girlfriends, we ordered light. We started with an appetizer of fried pickle chips ($6) – thinly sliced hamburger dills coated in a coarse cornmeal breading. Dip them in ranch dressing: the bitter pickles, cold sauce and cornmeal mingle well.
We moved on to cups of gumbo – thick soup of chicken roux, sausage and rice that was satisfying, but the sausage wasn't as spicy as I'd prefer.

My vegetarian friend had a hard time finding something to order (there are limited meatless options) and decided on the Bourbon Street Salad – a mix of teardrop tomatoes, blue cheese, red onions and caramelized walnuts, which she only picked at because it was slathered in too much vinaigrette.

Another evening, I returned with family and ordered everything on the appetizer menu I wished I hadn't missed. Appetizers are easily my favorite part of the menu here, with choices ranging from a deliciously creamy macaroni and cheese ($6) to Fried Oyster Skewers ($9) and crab cakes in a jalapeno cream sauce ($12).

Don't miss the Pulled Pork Sliders ($9). The barbecue sauce slathered throughout tender shreds of pork is subtly sweet, served on Hawaiian bread rolls that melt with each bite. And I loved the fried green tomatoes, in a light cornmeal batter and topped with generous dollops of creamy goat cheese, diced green and red peppers and balsamic vinaigrette.

If you're interested in saying you tasted it, the Gator Bites ($9) aren't bad either. The restaurant orders fillets of alligator from a farm in Louisiana, pounds them flat and coats them in the same cornmeal crust. It tastes, well, fried the way thin-sliced chicken wings do: Indulgent and filling but with little trace of the flavor of the actual meat.

The highlight was the plump Voodoo Shrimp ($21), swimming in sauce so good I couldn't keep from dipping the miniature jalapeno cornbread muffins that were delivered at the beginning of the meal.

Order anything with a side of creamed corn and you won't be disappointed.

We ordered beignets to end our gigantic meal, but the kitchen was out. Disappointing – but yet another reason to return. There's still so much on the menu to taste.

Contact the writer: 714-510-7459 or jmuir@ocregister.com