Write on: American Pie

The first few times I went to Elsie’s Plate & Pie, all I could think about was Honeymoon Bungalow.

Twenty years before Elsie’s started serving silky Almond Joy pies, Honeymoon Bungalow used the same building to help Baton Rougeans fill their homes with quirky pieces.

If you never had a chance to go to the Mid City antique store before it closed two years ago, the best word I can think of to describe it is “groovy.” Owner Marsha Rish splashed color all over the store, from the funky trinkets, decor and furniture she sold to the shelves that displayed them, all painted shades of yellow, pink, green and blue. A retro mint-green refrigerator stationed near the entrance held bottles of Coke. At the register, rolls of wrapping paper featured prints that looked like they were straight out of a ’60s music festival poster.

“I discovered real fast that pretty doesn’t sell well in here. People could care less about pretty and fancy—they wanted funky,” Rish told 225 shortly before the store closed. “I like things that are a little edgy. A little weird.”

There are plenty of antique stores in town, but I remember thinking this one could have only been in Baton Rouge. From the pink Spanish Town-inspired flamingos on the store’s lawn to the bold colors inside, it felt like no other antique shop I’d been to. Rish personally sourced and curated the majority of the items in the store. Much of the inventory also came from locals, who brought in interesting items they thought the store might want to sell.

Two years ago, I wrote a column expressing sadness about the Bungalow’s closure. I felt guilty. I’d only started shopping there a few months before, and I wondered if I’d spent more time and money there, and maybe brought a few friends who’d also spend time and money there, maybe it could have made a difference. It was a reminder to shop small and local as often as possible.

But while I still stand by that shop-local mantra, a funny thing happened a year after Honeymoon Bungalow closed: My favorite restaurant in town opened in its space.

Now when I think of Elsie’s, I’m not picturing the beloved antique shop that once lived there. I’m thinking about my favorite salad.

Salad doesn’t sound like the most exciting thing to order at a pie shop, I know. I’ve tasted Elsie’s savory and sweet pies, and they are admittedly delicious. But I could eat the restaurant’s Ruby Greens salad every day.

The greens are coated in this roasted garlic vinaigrette that’s a divine blend of acidic, nutty and sweet. The salad is tossed with morsels of smoky Gouda, salty bacon, creamy avocado, crispy fried onions and tomatoes. Instead of traditional croutons, the dish is plated with a slice of buttery toasted bread to crumble over everything. Every bite offers different flavors and textures. I swear I can taste it as I’m writing this.

If I know I’m going to Elsie’s, I look forward to it for days. It’s elevated comfort food, inspired by owner Paul Dupre’s grandmother, Elsie. Her face is painted on the wall, a reminder of the heart and love poured into every dish. The restaurant is stylish yet cozy. I don’t feel like I have to get super dressed up to go there, but I know I’m going to have an exciting enough experience for it to still be an ideal date-night spot.

And if I want to get my fix of antique shopping afterward, now I head just down the street to the new-ish Pink Elephant Antiques.

I’m not the only one who loves Elsie’s—it was voted Best New Restaurant in this year’s Best of 225.

It’s always sad when a local business closes. Nothing will ever replace the memories we made at Honeymoon Bungalow or places like Chelsea’s Cafe, Zee Zee Gardens or Atomic Pop Shop.

It’s natural to mourn these losses—but, it’s also OK to look forward to The Overpass Merchants, Kalurah Street Grills and Pop Shop Records of the world that will replace them. It’s the circle of life, the American way.

Before we know it, we will have made years of memories at these new places. I know I already have at Elsie’s.

To me, the restaurant feels like home. It feels like something that could only be in Baton Rouge.

This article was originally published in the July 2018 issue of 225 Magazine.