You’re going to fight for this reservation.
Commander’s Palace sits in the Garden District, painted turquoise and white like a Victorian wedding cake. It’s been feeding people since 1893. That blue-and-white mansion has hosted Emeril Lagasse, Paul Prudhomme, and a parade of James Beard winners who learned their craft here before making names elsewhere.
Getting a table takes planning. Weeks of planning. You’ll refresh the reservation site multiple times, consider bribing someone, and possibly sacrifice your firstborn to the dining gods. But once you’re in that turquoise mansion with the Garden Room’s leafy oak trees overhead, you’ll understand why people put up with this nonsense.
The meal starts before you order. Your server brings out cheesy garlic bread—hand-served, one piece at a time—with the kind of ceremony usually reserved for crown jewels. This isn’t an appetizer. It comes with every meal and sets the tone for what’s about to happen.
Here’s the order that won’t steer you wrong:
Start with the Soup 1-1-1. Three demi-portions: turtle soup, gumbo, and whatever the chef’s running that day. The turtle soup gets finished tableside with aged sherry—simmered 72 hours before it hits your spoon. Rich veal stock, minced turtle, holy trinity vegetables, and pressed eggs that melt into something you’ll think about for weeks.
Skip the soup combo and want something lighter? The Shrimp & Tasso Henican has been on the menu unchanged for 25 years. Spicy-sweet Gulf shrimp with Creole tasso in a way that makes Europeans reconsider everything they know about flavor.
For the main event, trust the pecan-crusted Gulf fish. Chef Meg Bickford sources 90% of ingredients within 100 miles of the kitchen door. The fish gets a Louisiana pecan crust that stays crispy against whatever seasonal treatment she’s running. Pair it with their stone-ground grits if it’s on the menu.
The boudin-stuffed quail works too—charred chili smoked boudin over bacon and apple cider braised cabbage with Crystal hot sauce pulp and Grand Marnier cognac jus. It’s a plate that tells you exactly where you are.
And the finale:
The Creole Bread Pudding Soufflé is non-negotiable. Order it 20 minutes before you want it—this thing takes time. Your server will bring it to the table towering and wobbly, then plunge a spoon of whiskey cream sauce deep into its center while you watch. Paul Prudhomme created this 50 years ago, and nobody’s messed with it since.
The whole experience runs $75-100 per person for dinner without wine. Lunch is cheaper—and comes with those famous 25-cent martinis on weekdays. Three-martini limit because apparently that’s enough.
The dress code means business attire. Jackets are preferred for men. No shorts, flip-flops, or t-shirts. They’ll swap your white napkin for a black one if you’re wearing dark pants because lint matters here.
Is it worth the reservation battle? The seven James Beard Awards say yes. The fact that it’s still the city’s most popular upscale restaurant after 130+ years says yes. The way locals celebrate every major life event here says yes.
You’ll make the reservation. You’ll dress up. You’ll order the soup, the fish, and that soufflé. And you’ll understand why people have been fighting for these tables since before your grandparents were born.
Call 504-899-8221 or book through their website. Good luck.
