On Aug. 30, the birthday of Huey P. Long himself, Baton Rouge’s old Hotel Heidelberg came back to life. The city’s first luxury hotel has held a certain local mystique since it was built in 1927. Gov. Long held court and made deals from his unofficial residence on the hotel’s fifth floor. For many years after, Baton Rougeans flocked here for proms, reunions and weddings. It closed in 1987.
Downtown’s revitalization and more than $60 million later, the newly renovated Hilton Capitol Center throbs with life. It offers accommodations for conference-goers, a bright and sexy hotel bar, and a pricey, upscale restaurant.
As if that weren’t potential enough, the building was named one of 200 “Historic Hotels of America,” by the National Trust for Historic Preservation in the fall.
And so it is you’d expect superior things from the Hilton’s fine dining establishment, The Kingfish. It’s a hotel restaurant, but the hotel expects it to draw plenty of diners beyond their captive guests. Think René Bistrot in New Orleans, The Dining Room at the Ritz-Carlton Buckhead or New York’s Gramercy Tavern.
Rumors about an energetic chef were circulating before my visit and, sure enough, a look at the menu during my December lunch visit suggested the place had energy. The unusual cold Midori melon soup, a blend of cream, melon liqueur, vanilla ice cream and balls of honeydew, was refreshing, slightly tangy, and palate-cleansing ($8).
But the crab and asiago bisque in a bread boulé, as appealing as it sounded, fell short ($12). Its sweet, nutty flavor was overshadowed by a too thick, nearly gelatinous consistency.
My tablemate and I moved on to Uncle Earl’s shrimp and grits, a fairly solid version that featured seared, triangular grit cakes topped with a smoky sauce of shrimp and tomato ($12). On the other hand, the victory tuna sandwich, while a proper medium rare, was flat-tasting. Spiky wasabi mayo spruced it up somewhat, but ultimately the flavorless preparation, lost in an oversized whole wheat bun, was underwhelming ($12).
The dessert menu was a nice read, and featured items like the governor’s mistake, chocolate pound cake wrapped in phyllo with drizzles of raspberry sauce ($8), and the Zuppa Inglaise, alternating liqueur-doused white and chocolate cake layers ($8). Both were attractive, and I found the exterior of the governor’s mistake perfectly buttery and flaky. But in both cases, the cakes themselves were dense and dry.
At dinner, the pricey menu spans quality cuts of beef, a couple of pastas and New American fare like crawfish-stuffed trout, wrapped in bacon and topped with black bean salsa, espresso roast duck, quail with cherries in brandy, and salmon wrapped in rice paper.
We started with sea scallops served with thin slivers of fried sweet potato and tomato concassé ($11). I liked the pungent, slightly creamy concassé, but the scallops were cold on the inside and generally lacked flavor. (Like the tuna at lunch, a fiery sear would have served them well.) Our well executed spinach salad, which featured just-wilted fresh baby spinach with warm bacon dressing, teetered nicely between sweet and tangy ($9).
Among the entrées, we were drawn to the whole crispy flounder ($22). It arrived scored, deep-fried, and gently bathed in an appealing orange-lime butter sauce, but its this-side-of-ebony surface tipped off its state: overcooked. What should have been flaky was on the chewy side. The smoked grilled pork chop, thick with a hearty strip of fat and promising-looking, was infused with a baffling amount of unappealing, artificial smokiness ($19). Oddly enough, these entrées were outshined by their side dishes, marvelous Provencal-style baby zucchini, cooked fork-tender and set off fragrantly with feta and sun-dried tomatoes.
Determined to find a moist, well textured pastry from the lengthy dinner dessert menu we took our server’s advice and chose King Ludwig’s chocolate cake, three layers done up in creamy frosting studded with coconut and chopped pecans ($9). The German chocolate accoutrements were solid, but the cake itself was arid and dense, made worse by being served cold.
Despite The Kingfish’s compelling ties to the area’s history, there’s little about the restaurant’s atmosphere that nods to its roots. The large dining room is adorned in heavy blues and buffs, mosaic tiles, and bulky banquettes, all of which make it feel about as linked to Louisiana lore as a restaurant in Muncie, Ind. The one big ode to the era is The Tunnel, a private dining room downstairs carved out of the real 1930s underground corridor that once connected the Heidelberg with the Hotel King across the street. But a different era is captured here. Between the dark, cavernous vibe and monstrously long table, I half expected Henry VIII to emerge screaming for mutton.
These days, while The Kingfish seems to be missing the target, solid progress is being made around it. The hotel itself is well booked. And downtown’s nascent arts district and improving night life are drawing larger numbers to the area. Maybe those factors will conspire to reclaim what so far has been a lost opportunity.
Here’s hoping.
