Razzoos has been doing its level corporate best to create the laissez les bons temps rouler feeling of a genuine New Orleans, gumbo-fueled par-tay for 22 years. Because its been around so long, its easy to take the DFW mini-chain for granted.
Thats why we decided to renew our appreciation for Razzoos by visiting its latest outpost in north Fort Worth No. 18 and counting. And we were reminded of the adage about not fixing something that aint broke.
Sure enough, all the familiar touches greet you here, from the exterior logo shining in its trademark orange, blue, and green neon, to an interior music room echoing with accordion and harp-pumping zydeco music. The main dining rooms ceiling is a riot of brass instruments, bass drums, railroad crossing signs and other detritus all thrown together thanks to a fictitious tornado. Razzoos never takes itself too seriously.
The Cajun restaurant will always be on its firmest culinary footing when its kitchen is frying anything from jalapeños and crawfish tails, to shrimp, catfish, chicken and steak.
Both starters from the fried crawfish tails ($7.49) to the rat toes (fried jalapeños stuffed with shrimp and crab, $6.89) are paragons of Razzoos frying prowess. The wafer-thin batter shell is faultlessly grease-free. The crawfish tails are more successful of the two because they dont offer the false promise of the rich interior of crab and shrimp that is largely AWOL from the rat toes.
The Cajun combo skillet ($12.29) is headlined by a wonderfully grilled andouille sausage that cuts across a bayous worth of shrimp Creole, shrimp etouffee, flanked by the always reliable red beans and rice. The only quibble is that the various cooking methods impart a one-note, stew-like texture to all the proteins and the corn on the cob sidedish is soggy.
The seafood combo platter ($14.99 and big enough for two) is another of Razzoos patented New Orleans culinary tours on a plate. This time, its the shrimp, catfish and crawfish receiving the deep-fried treatment. The highlight of this dish is how the three house-made sauces nicely accent the various seafood: Tangy cocktail sauce marries well with the bullet-sized shrimp; a complex remoulade-tartar sauce, flecked with fresh dill, dances rhythmically with the crawfish; and Razzoos sweet-savory, cherry mustard sauce perks up juicy catfish fillets.
In what amounts to Razzoos most unapologetically diet-demolishing dish, the jambalaya pasta ($12.89) tosses together representatives of turf (bits of chicken, chunks of andouille sausage) with surf (shrimp, the daily fresh fish and crawfish tails) into a sea of penne and envelopes it all in a jambalaya sauce heavily indebted to its cream base.
The only way to crown this Big Easy meal is with a suitably gargantuan piece of bread pudding ($5.29). It plays only one sweet note thanks to its dark rum-caramel sauce infusing every bready nook and cranny. Smartly, this pudding contrasts the squishy texture of its interior with a scattering of crunchy pecans.
Twenty-two years, and 18 Razzoos later, the mini-local chain should not be faulted for sticking to its winning ways no matter how mainstream they might be. And there is something to be said for a restaurant that celebrates the food of New Orleans, while extolling the virtues of one of the Souths oldest culinary truisms: Everything tastes better when its fried.