Taste of history:Each month across our 20th year, 225 will revisit restaurants from our past coverage. From Capital Region classics and award-winners to trendsetters and hidden gems, these businesses have helped shape our dining culture.It’s been around for nearly 39 years, but lately, the Baton Rouge French restaurant Maison Lacour seems more novel than ever.
Seating is limited, and it’s generally kept to parties of two—double that if you’re lucky enough to get the night’s only four-top. Lunch isn’t served, only dinner, offered Tuesday through Saturday. Reservations are required, and they’re made by text or, that ancient medium, the phone call. And speaking of ancient, bring a checkbook or some folding money because credit cards aren’t accepted.
Maison Lacour’s trapped-in-amber strategy is a far cry from that of most modern restaurants, which compete for diners with Instagram-worthy dishes and interior design that create an experience.
But to Michael and Eva Jetty, that’s noise. After 33 years of working together in the restaurant founded by Eva’s mother and stepfather, the couple has honed their operation to a well-oiled machine of two—just the way they like it.
Plenty of food enthusiasts in Baton Rouge have still never eaten at Maison Lacour, far-flung from the city’s trendy neighborhoods.
But many have, and this loyal fan base knows its fairy-tale backstory.
Husband-and-wife team Michael and Eva Jetty have been working together at Maison Lacour for 33 years.
In 1991, Michael Jetty approached Eva’s mom, Chef Jacqueline Greaud, about apprenticing at Maison Lacour, the well-regarded restaurant on North Harrell’s Ferry Road she opened with her husband, John Greaud, five years earlier. Michael had worked for several local restaurants but was a personal fan of Maison Lacour and wanted to up his game under Le Cordon Bleu-trained Chef Jacqueline. She took him on reluctantly. Along the way, Michael fell in love with Eva, who worked front-of-the-house.
“We dated in secret at first,” Michael recalls. “It sounds creepy now, but I told her on our third date, ‘You know I’m going to marry you.’ And she said, ‘Yeah, I know.’”
When Jacqueline found out about their budding relationship, Michael says she grabbed him by the shirt and issued a warning. Her ire was to ward off distractions in the kitchen. Excellence behind the stove came first.
It did. Michael flourished. And his relationship with Eva also grew. The two eventually married and took over the restaurant after the Greauds retired, with Michael in the kitchen and Eva as manager.
Escargots baked in garlic butter sauce with diced mushrooms
Côte de Veau, veal chop, sautéed mushrooms and cream, finished with cognac flambé
The menu hasn’t changed much over the years. The lineup is decidedly French, not Cajun or Creole, with dishes like pork and venison pâté, escargot, poached sweetbreads, rack of lamb and soufflé for dessert. Everything is made from scratch, including the French bread, sauces and salad dressing, the latter of which can be purchased by the bottle. Each individual entree is prepared in its own fresh, clean sauté pan. No doubling up, even for repeats.
“I don’t phone it in,” Michael says. “I take it seriously, every day, every plate that goes out.”
The décor remains the same. Cheery “lemongrass” yellow walls and ladder-back rush-bottom chairs greet diners. In an era when restaurants aim to transport patrons, this one could double for a sought-after Provençal mom-and-pop.
The pandemic shook things up for restaurants everywhere, and for the Jettys, the reckoning came in the form of a decision to pare down. They eventually let their staff go, eliminated lunch service and limited seatings. At this point in their careers, they say they don’t need to work the long hours they once did.
Maison Lacour’s cheery, Provençal dining room
Carré d’Agneau, lamb chops with Maison Lacour’s Three Mustard Sauce
On work days, they arrive together and enjoy a scratch-made staff meal for two brought from their Prairieville home. Tirelessly interested in food, they muse about what they’ll cook for Sunday dinner, a longstanding domestic ritual. Then, they fall into an easy rhythm, preparing for the night.
Eva, 66, will serve every table, and Michael, 59, will hole up in the kitchen executing the menu with painstaking precision. He’ll worry about diners’ reactions, and on the way home, ask Eva how they liked the food.
“She’ll say, ‘Yes, Michael, everyone was happy to have their table at Maison Lacour,’” he says. “And that’s all I need to know.” maisonlacour.com
This article was originally published in the January 2025 issue of 225 Magazine.
It’s been around for nearly 39 years, but lately, the Baton Rouge French restaurant Maison Lacour seems more novel than ever.
