During those uncertain months after Katrina, when we are all hoping for a quick recovery, one of the most anticipated signs was the reopening of restaurants. Other businesses were just as important, but a restaurant was a communal happy space that provided sustenance or, at the very least, an Old Fashioned over which to conclude that the city just might make it after all.
Of all the reopenings, the most anticipated, at least in the Mid-City area, was Mandina’s, the model of what a great New Orleans-style Italian/Creole neighborhood restaurant should be.
There was concern at first that the restaurant might not return because it was slow in doing so. In a city full of worries, high among then was, “Is Mandina’s coming back?”
It did. The delay was caused by taking the opportunity for remodeling. That took about a year and a half, and nearly $2 million, but the old restaurant was spiffed up, including a reworking of the bar area. Yet, it maintained its patina.
Founded in 1932 as a bar that served food, the business, as it passed through family generations, eventually expanded into a renowned restaurant that also has a very good bar.
Tommy Mandina, who was born and grew up in the building at the corner of Canal Street and South Cortez that houses the restaurant, started working actively in the business in 1971 along with his mom, Hilda. (The splendid specialty chef’s salad in her name is still on the menu.) Tommy remembered that as a kid the family would occasionally take the Canal streetcar, that runs in front of the building, to Galatorie’s. It was there that this neighborhood restaurant family learned some of the techniques and style points of the grand dining rooms. To this day, many of the Mandina’s dishes are competitive with the big name places. Suggestion: try the turtle soup.
Tommy would retire and passed the management to his daughter, Cindy, who would first experience the business by bussing tables. As the manager she has continued to steer Mandina’s as one of the best in a city already known for its restaurants.
There have been some blips, caused not by business but by life. Like all restaurants Mandina’s suffered through the COVID crisis, and distancing required that fewer tables could be used. (Drive-up customers were at least able to pick up their orders from a waiting attendant.)
Then there was the night of Friday, April 29. 2023. Around 8:45, a friend called to be sure that we were ok. Since we live near Mandina’s she was afraid that we might have been there. She had just heard that there had been a shooting. Canal Street was flashing with police vehicle blue lights. We would learn that the victim was a beloved young waiter who was serving an outside table when someone approached and shot him. A stray bullet went through the restaurant wall and injured a diner from Chicago who was in town to celebrate a friend’s birthday.
There was tension in the neighborhood the next day. A man I saw walking down the block seemed to be suspicious as he weaved between parked vehicles. I noticed that other neighbors were peering from their porches thinking the same thing. Gradually he staggered away.
What happened that night was a double tragedy, and its victims will be remembered, beginning with votive candles placed on a step outside the restaurant– an altar to the fallen waiter.
Closed during what would have been the lucrative first weekend of Jazz Fest, Mandina’s re-opened Monday, May 1. That was badly needed therapy for the staff and the neighborhood. Just as it was needed in the days after Katrina.
It is not unusual to report that on any given night Mandina’s was packed, but it meant so much more that Monday night. Some were there simply to have a meal; many were there (Including Mayor LaToya Cantrell) to show support.
I was there to pick up, as we frequently do, an order, this time consisting of marinated crab claws and the ever-bountiful Hilda’s salad. (Try it with blue cheese.)
Outside, the red streetcars waddled by completing the color scheme of the pink Mandina’s building enlivened by neon art.
One color that was missing from the exterior landscape was the blinking blue lights.
There were two security guards, rather than the usual one, but no need for action. They could have relaxed to the night air which was enhanced by the fragrance of fried oysters.
Nearby was the votive candles altar. Sorrow still prevailed. For the moment, though, the city was at peace.
