Kevin R.
Yelp
On our New Orleans trip, my fiancé and I snuck away from a work event to grab a quick bite and take it to the hotel we were in nearby. We saw this kinda hole-in-the-wall, Voodoo Chicken & I was sold - I freakin' love wings.
We walk in and there are several people behind the food area, but nobody behind the bar. The sign says to order at the bar, not the food area. Okay, got it. We waited. And waited. And waited. And nobody is helping us. A gentleman mentions after we openly wondered whether we should leave that the woman was in the restroom. We said okay, got it, we'll wait.
We waited.
It wasn't obnoxious, but it did take several seemingly long moments for the lady to come out. When she did, though, we were treated to a lovely conversation about how many bones she's broken, and how her grandma hadn't woken her up from when she set a small fire in her kitchen. We traded war stories while they whipped up voodoo wings & king cake ice cream for us (they also have giant vats of daquiris you can take with you along the street, since they have open-carry laws, but we were too tired for all that).
We took it to the hotel to eat, where my fiancé had reasonably good chicken tenders, I enjoyed my sweet-with-some-heat-at-the-end voodoo wings, and we polished off the very good, mildly sweet, kinda cinnamony king cake ice cream (not much in the way of chunks of king cake in it, just FYI). We ate and slept like babies right after.
It was tough to compete with the other sensational meals we had but the wings were pretty damn bomb; I'll always remember them.