This is a love story. A love story of a girl and a hip local eatery.
My undying devotion to Satsuma, the adorably funky little spot in Bywater, all began when Satsuma established itself as the only consistent early-morning coffee shop in the neighborhood two (or so) years ago. Before Satsuma, the unspoken neighborhood rule on coffee shops was to not even think about offering caffeine before 8:00-ish…maybe. Satsuma changed that rule single-handedly by opening their doors at 7:00 a.m. on the dot every single day and offering caffeine and a wide array of breakfast options. Satsuma changed the face of weekday mornings and I, a slave to the conventional work force, will forever be grateful for their efficient service, delicious breakfast, and caffeine.
Once it established itself as a convenient, reliable source of coffee to go, Satsuma began to expand its offerings, featuring fresh juices, organic seasonal produce, and a wide array of vegan and vegetarian options. In a town of fried and smothered, Satsuma came to be known as a beacon of conscious, healthful deliciousness. From basics like BLT’s and grilled cheese sandwiches to more unusual fare such as kale and chard salad and tofu scrambles, Satsuma now offers breakfast and lunch to its devoted Bywater patrons (and, rumors have it, dinner is not far off!). My personal favorite? The strawberry basil muffin. It’s dangerously addictive with its bright and tangy strawberry-ness (yes, I just made up that word) and slightly licorice, warm basil undertones. That muffin is the benchmark for all muffins.
But, here’s the thing: my love affair with Satsuma kind of mirrors the rocky romance of Lisa and Millhouse or Ross and Rachel – my beloved doesn’t exactly always show me the love. But I just can’t walk away. Not after that muffin.
Case in point: one recent Saturday, I invited four friends to lunch at my beloved Satsuma during an LSU game, which I mistakenly thought would be an ideal time to have a quiet lunch out in the neighborhood while everyone was hunkered in front of television screens. Wrong! The place was packed. Not a free table for five in sight. After ordering our food at the counter, we stood in the middle of the restaurant and waited for a table. And then waited some more. Our vibrantly colored juices (Beet lemonade! Watermelon lemonade! Ginger limeade!) were delivered to our eager hands, as was a raspberry-chocolate chip muffin, resulting in a simply torturous situation as I could neither eat the muffin (being held in one hand) nor take the paper off the straw in my beet lemonade (in the other hand). So I just got grumpy and stared down lingering tables for twenty long minutes.
When we finally snagged a table, I greedily dug into my fuscia-tinted lemonade. There must be magic amnesia-inducing fairy dust in that lemonade – Wait? What wait? Inefficiency? Who? Oh, Tuscan roasted tomato and chickpea stew, you are divine! And grilled pear and brie sandwich, you little minx, you! Salmon salad sandwich, come to mama! It was like the lack of seating and slow service were just a bad dream as we devoured delicate microgreens and velvety melted brie and pears.
And there’s the rub: Satsuma will try your patience, make you wait, and flaunt its funky, unconventional self, but it will always win you back with its simple, fresh flavors that make your taste buds rejoice. So, take my advice: give in. Love Satsuma for the crazy, bohemian little tart she is, don’t take a group of girls there for lunch if you expect anything resembling efficient service, and enjoy the experience for what it is. And get a strawberry basil muffin.
Satsuma Café
3218 Dauphine Street
7:00 a.m. – 7:00 p.m.
Open 7 days a week
(and starting dinner service soon!!)
http://satsumacafe.com/
—
Caroline Stivers is a born-again Southerner and reformed Texan. After spending several years in the northeast freezing, forcing bland food down her gullet, and not saying “hello” to people on the street, she realized that she loves the sweaty summers, rich food, and friendly faces of the south. She is now a proud Bywater resident, busy renovating a money pit, working to get first-generation students into college, and pondering what to do with a recently obtained Arts Administration degree.
