Irene’s may be in the Quarter, but it's in a corner generally missed by tourists – not that that’s easy to do given the overwhelming(ly good) scent of garlic emanating from this cavern of Italian intimacy. It’s Italian-French, really: you can pick from seasoned rosemary chicken, seared chops, pan-sautéed fish fillets and great pasta, but leave room for the decadent pecan-praline bread pudding. Reservations are not ­accepted and long waits are the norm.