On a warm spring-like evening, the night’s weapon of choice was Yollar’s coupon for J’Anita’s. We had both been to J’Anita’s when they were running the kitchen out of Avenue Pub, so snatching up this coupon was fairly painless. As soon as we pulled off Washington Ave. near Earhardt (no, not Earnhardt), we both turned to each other with horrified looks and hoped that the coupon could actually be used as a weapon. After dodging potholes and a few less than reputable characters, we parked on the poorly lit side street next to The Rendon Inn. Considering the surrounding scenery, we slowly opened the door fully expecting a Ms. Mae’s-like crowd. As usual, our initial assumptions were dead wrong.
We immediately took a seat on one of the soft, oversized bar stools at the nearly circular bar. The bartender, not knowing that my mind was made before we even walked in the door, handed us the plastic covered menu and recommended a Blanche de Bruxellses and a Brewer’s Crack - 1 part NOLA Irish Channel Stout and 2 parts NOLA Hopitoulas. We both agreed that the Blanche de Bruxellses was by far the best Belgian White we’ve ever had, completely blowing all the mainstream Blue Moons and Hoegaardens out of the water. The cloudy, light yellow ale was crisp with a higher-than-normal carbonation and exhibeted a citrusy taste that leaned more towards the lemon side of the spectrum with slight coriander and clove undertones. Knowing for sure that I was getting the duck sandwich, I decided to take on the heftier Brewer’s Crack- hoppy and bitter from they Hoptioulas while maintaining the rich maltiness of the Irish Channel Stout. And that’s when the serious breakdown almost happened.As the words “we’re completely out of duck for the rest of this week” slipped off the bartender’s tongue, I almost spewed a mouthful of my crack onto her while the rest of my body slipped into shock. Like Serene Branson, I could barely muster up words (too soon?). Stricken with panic, I took a shot in the dark at one of the redfish sandwiches on the menu.
The grilled redfish was topped with a spicy cole slaw which provided contrasting texture to the flaky, moist redfish. As simple as it sounds, the buttered and griddled bun is what made this sandwich one of the greatest things since hot ice. After reviving myself like Smalls after the Wendy Peffercorn incident, I stole a few swigs of Erin’s Blanch de Bruxellses, which, by chance, paired perfectly with this light and almost summery sandwich. As usual, Erin had half of her sandwich left over, and, as usual, I devoured the remaining bites. Billed as “the best chicken sammich ever”, the grilled chicken and bacon on ciabatta successfully lived up to its boastful name.
After finishing off everything except the duo of animal crackers (a J'Anita’s thing), we collectively decided that we’ll be frequenting the Rendon Inn during the peak hours and days of the upcoming busy Mardi Gras season, and not just because of the food. The sketchy location and completely random crowd, ranging from a guy dressed in a white dress shirt, a bow tie, white khakis (I guess they didn’t die off with the black jeans), and a pair of white Ked's and claiming to be the most famous lawyer in New Orleans, to a few suit wearing actual lawyers, to Ms. Ghetto Fabulous, to a few Tulane students, was greatly overshadowed by the draft selection and friendly bartenders. Not to mention, the entire non-alcohol portion of our night was completely covered by the outrageously cheap gift certificate.
