The Anxious Enthusiast Travels

In Search of the Finest French Onion Soup

Adventures in NOLA — The search for the finest french onion soup continues

The holy grail of soups

I’m a sucker for French onion soup. It is understated, but done well has everything a soup wants to be.

Brothiness. Umami. Herbaciousness. Earthiness. Stale, moisture-sucking bread. A layer of cheese cased in toasty, cheesy, burnt bubblings.

The soup is warming, savory enough to melt away the worst of days, but not too talkative. It’s straight forward. It’s entirely cozy. Every bite is all about that base and all about the toppings, too.

What a partnership, base & toppings.

Eating French onion soup is like taking a bite of two lovers whilst they make love.

The experience fells me to silence. It calls me to close my eyes and hone in on the sensuality within my nose and mouth. My ears relax. I listen as the buzz around me dulls into the whispers of small, intimate slurps.

The FOS frontrunners

In Michigan, I worked at a French bistro called The Hearthstone Bistro that to this day has the best French onion soup I’ve had. In close second is a similar bistro in Dallas called Toulouse.

These places understand that balance based on ingredients is key. Their french onion soups do not taste the same. They don’t have the same ratios of broth to onions to bread to cheese.

The thing they have in common is balance. Their soups are finished. They’re polished. Like all great soups, their recipes have been built around the flavor and combination of the quality ingredients that compose them.

One brunch in NOLA

While planning our recent trip to New Orleans, I came across a restaurant in the French Quarter with French onion soup that people raved about. So of course we had to try it.

Just before noon Saturday, we made our way to the chic and shiny deco-tinted belly of Justine. It was brunch hour, but French onion soup was on the menu for me.

The presentation

The soup arrived in good time. The bronze, bubbled cheese spilling over the rim of the bowl and fresh thyme leaves scented the air and promised a winning start.

The addition and broiling of the cheese-on-bread to a great French onion soup must be done moments before it hits the table. This is expected. Check.

Even better if the grill is so hot that the cheese blackens and foams, adhering in a to the sides of the serving vessel, which this soup absolutely had. This extends soup time. Any extension of FOS pleasure is appreciated. Check & check.

It is a particular joy of mine to sit and pick hardened, caramelized cheese bits from the sides of the bowl when the soup is sadly gone.

Beyond presentation, the next step I take is to pierce the cheese with a big spoon (thank you, big spoon), pulling a crease in the topping to expose the brothy onion sleeves beneath. The broth pools in this space. It’s gorgeous. Check, check, check.

Time to eat.

I taste the broth. It’s lovely. I try to eat more of it but the cheese threatens to close my crease, overtaking the bowl of my big spoon and shoving my brothy bliss back to the dark beneath.

There was so much cheese. I love cheese! I never thought that I would say that something had too much cheese. But alas.

There was too much cheese.

I experienced so much cheese that the broth and soupy, but still textured bread, which were divine, and the onions, which were melted into their own sugary sweetness over time and with care, were overpowered by a thick, sludgy gel of nearly unchewable cheese.

The ingredients were there. The care and love and time were taken and given and spent. The execution was close, but the finish was heavy-handed. I left a pile of cheese on the side of my serving plate trying to get to every savory drop and sultry onion string.

Nevertheless it was delicious. I sat picking the pieces of crispy, caramel cheese off of the side of my bowl, which in the end could have gone back to the kitchen as freshly laundered.

The quest for the finest FOS continues. Perhaps it isn’t as much of a search as it is a compulsion to experience the eating of one of my favorite foods any time and any place I can.

My name is Brett Jenae, and I’m a soupaholic.

Justine was fabulous and I’d recommend it to anyone looking for a bit of approachable class, rest, and nourishment in the French Quarter. The dining room and patio were cozy, but upscale. The service was attentive and timely, but not overbearing. The menu was right. Their burger was one of the best I’ve had in a long time and their drinks were on point. We will certainly return the next time we get to New Orleans.

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