For lunch yesterday, I went over to the Outback that anchors a unique strip mall that is the heart of the neighborhood. It was constructed as part of the 1930s FHA single-family housing development adjacent to the Buckingham Garden apartments. The complex was created by the legendary building Alley Freed, one of the brain-trusters who were revolutionizing home and apartment construction along the assembly-line model pioneered by Henry Ford, with the objective of serving the needs of the earnest New Dealers who were pouring into Arlington to populate FDR’s bold experiment in government and launching what has become the nightmare that is modern Washington, DC
You know me. I am a snob for authenticity, and the last thing I am interested in is a chain restaurant that can be found in every municipality in the country. Still, bereft of our Willow, I thought at least I would give it a try, since it is the only bar/restaurant within rational walking distance.
It was kind of fun, though the crowd would probably be completely neighborhood kind of locals. I will sample it to get the flavor.
Real quirky local places are things to savor; I had an alert reader suggest The Front Page for a change of pace, though they may not be completely objective about it, since a son is behind the bar. I will check it out. But in that spirit, my coon-ass pal Johnas Presbyter wrote me about a place that has stayed in style for the long haul in the Crescent City.
He said: “For my daughter’s 30th birthday we went to lunch at Domalices, a lower Garden District saloon and Po Boy joint near where my wife grew up. “Miss Dot” ran the place and lived in the adjacent apartment, both bar and apartment carved out of a cottage on the corner not far from the Nashville Ave wharf. When “Miss Dot” bought it about 65 years ago it had already been in business since some time in the 19th century.
Miss Dot knew my wife since she was a toddler and our daughter since she was a baby. “Miss Dot” only knew me since we got married about 40 years ago, so I was always the “newbie” in the crowd.
Miss Dot always hugged the girls when we came in, and comped my daughter’s meal when she was accepted at Dominican HS, and a few other major occasions in her life. My daughter literally grew up with a favorite neighborhood bar and eatery. Hole in the wall that it was, the joint always drew celebrities when they were in town and the wall used to be filled with autographed photos address to “Miss Dot.”
I never saw “Miss Dot” without an apron on, even when she was posing next to President Bush 2nd.”Miss Dot” died a few months ago in her late 80s working the floor of Domalices to the end. My girls felt like they had lost an auxiliary mom and grandma. So for her birthday, my daughter wanted to go to Domalices which is still open, though under new management.
The new management appeared to be a middle-aged woman we didn’t recognize, and new somewhat younger bartender. But all of the ladies behind the sandwich counter were the same. The place had been cleaned up and the food service preparation equipment modernized. But the floors and walls were still the same, same signs behind the bar, kids could still approach the bar and order a “Barques” (root beer) and haul soft drinks or even beer to the their parent’s table, even with police sitting right there, it’s after all, even though you could order a mixed drink, or beer still a FAMILY PLACE.
The old photos of “MIss Dot” with various celebrities or now historical figures were removed, perhaps claimed by members of her extended family. However, a big autograph white board still hung near the bar recording the famous names of “MIss Dot’s” tenure over the place.
Additional tributes to “Miss Dot” were displayed by the sandwich counter. It seemed like the place was poised to start a new chapter, based on the ancient traditions. The food and drinks were exactly the same and it was, as always, standing room only. We left missing “Miss Dot” but confident that Domalices had survived not only into the 21st century but would continue to thrive well into this century.
There are some elements of the franchised world of food and beverage along Veterans Highway in Metairie and Kenner and even in parts of the French Quarter. But back in the neighborhoods we still frequent the ancient watering holes and feeding stations. It’s always been like that here and probably always will be. You see in Greater Texas, not just New Orleans but on the North Shore, Down the Bayou, on “the Coast”, over in Austin, and San Antonio. “WE GOT RESPECT” for the traditions that matter.
And those traditions include an icy cold Jax beer and a hot po-boy roast beef sandwich.
Copyright 2015 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303