Camellia Grill

Eating at the Camellia Grill is one of those things on the "must do" list for visitors to New Orleans. It was probably not specifically intended to be that way, but that's the way it is. A glance of the patrons reveals entire families, including children and grandparents, a sight rarely seen in neighborhood restaurants. It isn't just lunch that they come for.

Located on South Carrollton Avenue near St. Charles Avenue, at the River Bend, it has become unbelievably popular, with an almost cult like following. It has long been a favorite with locals, and students from the University section, but it is a destination for many visitors, as well - people who come to New Orleans with the stated intent of eating at Camellia Grill. As an added bonus, the streetcars pass right in front.

The Camellia Grill is an old time, nearly extinct relic of years past. It is one of the old classic diners, with a counter and those little round stools secured to the floor. Unlike those rounded stainless steel rail car diners, Camellia Grill is a Greek Revival structure that reminds one of a plantation home. Yet, to eat there, you must wait in line outside, until the doorman indicates that there is room for your party. In spite of the fast pace behind the counter, you are filled with anticipation as you scan the menu and place your order.

I ordered a hamburger, and my first bite sent me back to the early 1950's. The hamburger buns are grilled along side of the hamburger, prepared using melted butter and grilled onions, all before your eyes. Other food items on the menu included a hamburger platter, French fries, an assortment of sandwiches, and Red Beans and rice on Mondays. Something that cannot go unnoticed is the fact that you are given a firm, white, cloth napkin instead of those little flimsy paper things everywhere else! In disbelief, I shake my head, and wonder how we could ever have embraced all of these ubiquitous fast food hamburger chains.

My waiter was an elderly black man, with snow-white hair, and a badge that read, "BAT". My friend asked him how long he has worked here.

"Forty-nine years," he replied. ("Bat" is short for his surname "Batiste".)
"When is your fiftieth anniversary?" I asked.
"Next July 4th," he replied.