So, let’s talk about and review Coop’s Place in New Orleans, a joint that has the vibe of “We’ve been here forever, and we are never, ever changing for you or anyone else.” Which, frankly, is the energy I want from any establishment in the French Quarter. You want polished service and sparkling glassware? No. You get exposed brick, slightly sticky tables, and bartenders who serve drinks with warnings attached. And we love them for it.
First up: The Smoked Duck Quesadillas
So, let’s talk about the duck quesadillas. On paper, they seem simple: shredded duck, cheese, and tortillas. You think, “Oh, I’ve had quesadillas before, I know this story.” No, you do not. These quesadillas are like a surprise party for your mouth that you didn’t even know you needed. The duck is rich and savory, with a texture that manages to be both melt-in-your-mouth tender and slightly crispy around the edges. The cheese is gooey in the way that all melted cheese should be, and the tortillas have that perfect toastiness—golden brown with just enough bite to hold everything together.
I’m not saying this was a religious experience, but I did momentarily forget where I was while eating it. This is the kind of quesadilla that makes you wonder why all other quesadillas have been so woefully underachieving.
Now, the Drinks: The Sazerac and Mint Julep
Of course, I didn’t just come for the food. No, I also decided to tango with the New Orleans drinking culture by ordering a sazerac and a mint julep, both of which came with warnings. (Side note: If your drink arrives with a warning, you’re in for a ride. It’s just basic math.)
The sazerac, if you’ve never had one, is a quintessential New Orleans cocktail. It’s bold and bracing, like someone bottled the city’s humidity and added a twist of lemon. Coop’s sazerac comes out strong, not just in flavor but in its ability to hit you with its alcohol content. It tastes like something you should sip slowly—and you really should before you start stumbling around the bar and recounting the time you threw up on your porch steps.
Then, there’s the mint julep. And yes, it also comes with a cautionary heads-up. Look, I know it sounds like a fun, refreshing, innocent beverage. A mint julep? How delightful! But Coop’s mint julep? This drink will end you. You sip it thinking you’re on the front porch of some genteel southern estate, but by the third sip, you realize you’re actually on a rollercoaster to oblivion. It’s sweet, minty, and shockingly potent—a combination that makes you question how something so delicious can be so dangerous.
In summary:
Coop’s Place is exactly what you want from a New Orleans institution. The smoked duck quesadillas are phenomenal, and the drinks will challenge both your tolerance and your sense of well-being. And really, isn’t that the ultimate NOLA experience? A perfect meal paired with cocktails that leave you questioning whether you should make a series of increasingly poor decisions afterward?
I’ll be back. Probably for the duck quesadillas. Probably not for the double feature of deadly drinks—unless I’m feeling brave. Or reckless. Or both.
This is a rewrite of a previous post.
