Kim Ashford
Martha Carter Haynes loved to cook for people. She was one of eight sisters who shared the same passion for feeding others. They each were famous within their family for a special tickles-your-toes recipe: Julia for her Blueberry Delight, Geraldine for her bread pudding. Barbara, Mary, Nellie, Rose and Gussie each had their own signature dishes as well.
And then there was Martha, famed for her enormous helpings.
"She had a flair. She liked huge portions," said John Jones, Martha's nephew, adding, "Everything had to be the best she could do."
The family decided to share the food with outsiders in 2007, and opened a restaurant tucked into a corner in St. Francisville. The appropriately named "Eight Sisters" restaurant was, to say the least, a success. The warm and cozy room felt more like your grandmother's kitchen than a nationally acclaimed restaurant, with praise even from the New York Times.
Two years after Eight Sisters opened its doors, Martha lost a battle to breast cancer and joined her late sisters Julia and Geraldine in the family's memory. Thankfully, that memory could easily be triggered by a heart-warming, heaping dish of fried green tomatoes, or Blueberry Delight, or bread pudding, in the family restaurant.
Only seating forty-eight guests—though dozens more would wait for tables—Eight Sisters outgrew its building. So, the family packed its pots and pans and moved down Old Scenic Highway to Zachary, under a new name: Martha's Bistro.
The only thing besides the location that's changed from Eight Sisters to Martha's Bistro is the logo. Even then, it shows glimpses to its past with subtle figure eights and three stars, representing the late sisters.
Oh, and one more thing.
"We added fried ribs," Jones laughed.
The names scattered across the menu bring back memories of my grandmother's kitchen. When the plate arrives, I see her spiderweb-veined hands rolling out dumplings, pulling Jiffy cornbread from the oven, plopping fresh fish in batter.
MawMaw tried to teach me how to cook when she found out she only had a few months left. "Lord knows your Mama can't, or won't. I pray it skips a generation." But, I just couldn't figure out the brown gravy.
I've missed her rice and gravy for years, until I tasted the Carters' smothered chicken. When I close my eyes, savoring the flavor, it's like she never left. I tell myself I'll order something different, like the red beans with fried fish or the fried pork chop, but somehow I always insist on the smothered chicken.
Except on Mondays. Then I order the daily special, chicken and dumplings. Martha's Bistro cuts the dumplings in quadrangles, while MawMaw preferred triangles. There is no difference I can taste, though.
Jones describes the food as "Southern soul with a little bit of traditional Louisiana dishes mixed in." To me, it's all comfort food. Food that warms the heart, makes your fingers and toes tingle. I feel pity for those who have never known a dish that changes your attitude about meals.
If you are one of those poor souls, come to Martha's, where the spices are just as important as the feelings in the kitchen.
The family staff is in the process of writing the recipes down, something my grandmother hardly ever did.
"They have them engrained in their head. We have most of them documented now to make them all consistent. The sisters still do the cooking," Jones explained.
Three sisters are in the kitchen full-time, and the others come in here and there. Of the twenty-two employees, half are family.
"I find I spend more time with family now that we work together," Jones pointed out. "They're willing to go that extra mile because it's family."
Even the guests are like family. They wave at one another as they make their way to a table. Being from Zachary, Jones says hello to some patrons he's known since his teenage years. They introduce him to the children, now attending the high school. And the children make small talk with the serving staff, their classmates.
"We love it. We're at home," Jones smiled. "It's a great location."
The customers have the typical—or at least typical by Martha's standards—argument of finishing an appetizer or saving room for the meal, or better yet, desert.
"I liked it, but I just couldn't finish it," my dining friend sighed to me, disheartened she would be wasting such great food. She had temporarily forgotten a styrofoam box could save the blackened tilapia for another day.
But the time comes when your pants squeeze at your waist, your eyes droop and beg for an afternoon nap, and the guests lined at the door stare at your near-empty plate, too polite to ask you to move on so they can be seated. So you leave, a little sad the meal can't last forever. But in the end, you thank the family that cooks for a living, for a passion, and for a cause.
"We all feel like some days, we're doing it for Martha."
Details. Details. Details.
Martha’s Bistro
19900 Old Scenic Highway
Zachary, La.
(225) 658-8328
Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday: 10:30 am–9 pm.
Friday and Saturday: 10:30 am–10 pm.
Sunday: 10:30 am–6 pm.
Closed Tuesday.
