Is the West Bank the Best Bank?

An exotic sojourn across the big river

by

When I told friends that my husband Tim and I would be journeying to the West Bank of New Orleans for a daytime excursion, they questioned my sanity, poking fun at “The Wank” and commenting that the best part of the West Bank was the bridge back to New Orleans. Being from Baton Rouge, another city that dwells in the shadow of the Big Easy, I was determined to prove them all wrong.

We departed home on a warm Saturday morning in January, heading west to take LA-1—part of Louisiana’s “Scenic Bayou Byway”—south. As we descended down the bridge into Port Allen, an apocalyptic fog rolled over the car. Downriver, the towns grew smaller and smaller, fields turned into swamps, and phone service waned. The vacant landscape was dotted with abandoned railway cars shrouded in mist and memorial crosses for motorists who had met their end on the highway. Tim, leaning forward with eyes squinted, said, “I halfway expect to see a brood of zombies stagger out of this swamp or Godzilla’s foot slam down right in front of us.”

Our GPS was also uncooperative. The Australian man who voiced the navigation instructions kept trying to steer us back across the river and onto I-10. Tim commented, “Not even the GPS wants to be over here.”

Right before we reached Boutte, the fog dissipated and I saw a gigantic rooster made of cement on the other side of the road. This prompted a U-turn and a brief visit to Maison Décor. Since 2000, the nice folks at Maison Décor have been purveyors of festive gifts as well as a well-stocked selection of statuary. The yard was filled with a menagerie of concrete animals, angels, and fountains. Then we saw a corner filled with Tiki statues, and I knew a purchase had to be made. We settled on a totem and named him James Fox-Smith.

Made of solid concrete, James Fox-Smith was incredibly heavy. It took both of us to hoist him into the trunk, causing the back end of the car to sink almost a foot. We left Boutte riding low on 90-East through Marrero and onto the Westbank Expressway.

It was noon when we finally pulled into Panda King restaurant in Gretna—time for a proper brunch. Panda King usually operates as a large Chinese buffet, but on the weekend their banquet hall is transformed into a dim sum paradise presided over by a large portrait of former Jefferson Parish sheriff Harry Lee.

Women pushing carts full of dumplings, noodles, and other delights began to circle the table. I made a mad dash to the restroom and returned to find Tim ordering everything off the steamed dumpling cart. “What are you doing?” I exclaimed. “You don’t order all at once!”

Tim shrugged, “She was offering. It looked good. So I took it all.” Clearly, he needed a brief primer

Dim sum operates like a rotating food delivery service. Carts loaded with different items circle the dining room so that patrons can leisurely pick one or two things from each cart until their bellies are full. With each selection, a server stamps your card to keep track of the bill.

Each order of dim sum ranged between $2 and $5. Even with Tim’s buying spree, brunch was inexpensive. We feasted on both shrimp and pork dumplings, chow fun noodles, Chinese broccoli, Peking duck, and beef tongue, but ran out of room before trying the snails and chicken feet. We paid, discussing the fortunes in our cookies and waving to Harry Lee on the way out the door.

After brunch, we walked next door to Hong Kong Food Market. The Asian mega grocery store was all decked out for Chinese New Year. Lanterns, lucky bamboo, and money cats lined the front wall, and customers were gearing up to celebrate the year of the rooster later in the month. Tim and I browsed the aisles for spices for future cooking projects, picked up some ramen noodles, and gawked at all the fresh seafood and produce: Fresh lychees, sugar cane, and dragon and durian fruits filled the bins. We even purchased a glass of chè, a traditional Vietnamese dessert drink made of fruit, tapioca, and coconut milk, which we enjoyed on the levee with a panoramic view of New Orleans.

Panda King usually operates as a large Chinese buffet, but on the weekend their banquet hall is transformed into a dim sum paradise presided over by a large portrait of former Jefferson Parish Sheriff Harry Lee.

It was time to set sail for Aloha Shores. The West Bank doesn’t disappoint when it comes to dive bars, and Aloha Shores Lounge is an icon. The best thing about the exterior of the squat brick building is the palm tree-emblazoned sign advertising weekend karaoke. We entered through the lightweight patio door, almost tripping over the step down into the bar because it was so dark. Slowly, the muted tropical theme came into focus. Locals who all seemed to know each other watched an NFL playoff game while shooting pool and smoking cigarettes. When I inquired about the age of the bar, a woman laughed and said, “This bar was called the Roman Inn in the ‘60s when I was a kid. It has been around forever.” Surprisingly, sparkling wine was on the menu. Tim and I quietly drank while listening to the customers. An older gentleman departed for home, and the bartender reminded him to call her at home before he made his way over to the bar the next day because she might open late. 

We closed the evening at China Doll Chinese Restaurant in Harvey. This beloved West Bank institution is nestled in the middle of a strip mall. Businesses have grown up around it over the years, but China Doll hasn’t changed. The worn green bamboo exterior was the first hint that we were about to be transported to another time; and the menu, which has never changed, confirmed it.

We ordered their special drink for two called a Love Potion for $9. This old-style tiki libation, filled with rum and fruit juice, promptly arrived in a large ceramic bowl with hula girls dancing along the sides. We leaned in towards each other and sipped away while watching the waitress cut oranges before the evening rush. Eventually we decided to try an order of crab rangoon and the China Doll specialty Cho Cho. In an age where most Chinese food enters a restaurant frozen, China Doll hand prepares its signature appetizers. The giant crispy shells of the rangoon contain cream cheese, crab, and bacon and make for a hearty snack; but the best thing on the menu is the Cho Cho—large fried wontons filled with shrimp and pork.

We ordered one more round of drinks to end the evening—a piña colada and a mai tai—cracked open fortune cookies, read our second fortunes of the day, and lamented the journey home. Though still undecided on whether the West Bank is the best bank, it was a pleasant January day spent hopping through an exotic paradise; and we only had to cross one river.

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