Port of Call


in French Quarter

As one (albeit inebriated) local raved, 'You come here, you get the burger.' But it's true: the meat is like umami condensed into a patty. Then there’s the baked potato on the side, buckling under the weight of sour cream, butter and bacon bits, all served in a 1960s-ish Polynesian tiki-bar setting. Expect a wait; no reservations are accepted.

They also make a Monsoon cocktail that's not to be trifled with.