Ah, prime rib. The beefy darling of special occasion dinners, wedding buffets, and that one uncle who insists on carving at Thanksgiving. It’s the dish that separates the culinary amateurs from the professionals because, let’s face it, if you overcook a roast that costs as much as a month’s rent, you might as well hang up your apron and go into the granola business. Enter Bon Ton Prime Rib, the latest addition to New Orleans’ culinary scene, where the stakes (and steaks) couldn’t be higher.
This is not the resurrection of the beloved Bon Ton Café, a nearly 150-year-old institution that oozed Cajun charm and old-world elegance. Nope, the new Bon Ton Prime Rib isn’t here to pretend it’s your grandpa’s haunt. This is a shiny new beef palace, unapologetically meat-centric and perfectly fine with reminding you that your vegetarian friend is going to have to settle for charred Brussels sprouts and a knowing smile.
Burnt Beginnings: A Restaurant That Just Won’t Quit
The new Bon Ton space has a backstory as juicy as its 30-ounce prime rib cut. First purchased pre-pandemic with dreams of glory, the restaurant almost opened in early 2020—then COVID hit. If that wasn’t enough of a cosmic slap, a fire brought the project back to square one. It’s almost poetic. This place had more false starts than a rookie quarterback.
Fast forward to today: The space has been reimagined, and the owners have painstakingly avoided trying to resurrect the old Bon Ton Café. Sure, they slapped the original brass plaque on the door for nostalgia points, but inside, it’s a different beast. If you’re looking for history on your plate, you’ll have to settle for the barbecue shrimp or the crabmeat au gratin, both borrowed from the old menu.
But don’t let the history fool you—this restaurant is less about “paying homage” and more about flexing its beef game. Because let’s be honest: Nobody is coming here for a salad.
The Prime Rib Gauntlet
Chef Jared Gassenberger, local culinary prodigy and apparent glutton for stress, is the guy tasked with making sure every prime rib roast lives up to the hype. Cooking prime rib isn’t just a job; it’s a gamble. The stakes are high (pun intended), and there’s no room for error. Greenbaum, the owner and prime rib evangelist, spells it out: “You can’t cook it to order because it takes four hours. You can’t serve it the next day because the texture changes.”
Translation: Screw up the prime rib, and you’re tossing hundreds of dollars in the trash. Gassenberger’s solution? Roast it low and slow at 170 degrees to hit a perfect medium rare (which, by the way, is the only temperature option—deal with it). From there, it gets a crust-searing blast in a 450-degree oven before landing on your plate.
Oh, and in case you’re one of those people who thinks meat needs to be well-done to be “safe,” you’ll have to ask for it Cajun blackened or charred into oblivion. Because this kitchen doesn’t mess around with your grandma’s bad habits.
The Vibes: Candlelit Carnivore Heaven
The new Bon Ton Prime Rib is a far cry from the dark, cozy atmosphere of the original café. Think exposed brick, flickering candlelight, and white tablecloths that practically scream, “Please don’t spill your Bordeaux.” It’s the kind of place where you can feel fancy without having to wear a tie—formal, yes, but without the pretension of a Michelin-star temple.
It’s also refreshingly inclusive, as long as you’re into beef or seafood. Vegetarians? You’ll be nibbling on the sides, which, to be fair, are no slouches. The puffed corn casserole—a sort of savory bread pudding—is a standout. But if you’re here for the $12 one-pound baked potato, you’re missing the point.
A Price Tag as Big as the Portions
Let’s talk money. The Bon Ton cut of prime rib—a hulking 30-ounce monstrosity—will set you back $120. But don’t panic; it feeds four people, assuming you’re not dining with a competitive eater. The 12-ounce regular cut is a more manageable (but still hefty) option for those who prefer to walk out of the restaurant under their own power.
The rest of the menu follows suit, offering hearty portions that are unapologetically designed to be shared. This isn’t the place for dainty tasting menus or Instagram-friendly microgreens. It’s indulgent, unapologetic, and distinctly New Orleans.
Jerry Greenbaum: The Atlanta Kingpin Who Loves NOLA
The man behind the beef is Jerry Greenbaum, a restaurateur who splits his time between Atlanta and his beloved New Orleans. His passion for the Crescent City dates back to his college days at Tulane, where he fell in love with the city’s food and culture—and, apparently, its ability to party.
“I love New Orleans,” Greenbaum says, as if that wasn’t already obvious. This is a guy who owns 15 restaurants but still waxes poetic about barbecue shrimp and Gulf fish. It’s not just business for him; it’s personal. And honestly, it’s kind of endearing to see a man this committed to making sure you have a good time—one prime rib at a time.
Final Thoughts: Love It or Leave It
Bon Ton Prime Rib isn’t trying to be for everyone. If you’re looking for a slice of old New Orleans history, go take a walk in the French Quarter. If you’re vegan, don’t even bother. But if you’re the kind of person who dreams about perfectly roasted beef and doesn’t mind dropping a small fortune on dinner, this is your spot.
It’s not cheap. It’s not subtle. And it’s definitely not the old Bon Ton Café. But for those who are here for the meat—and the meat alone—it’s a prime experience. Just don’t forget to call ahead and reserve your cut. Because when it’s gone, it’s gone. And honestly, if you’re late to the party, you deserve a side of charred broccoli and nothing else.
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