7 Louisiana Buffets That Miss The Flavor And 7 That Serve Real Southern Soul
Louisiana’s buffet scene is as diverse as its cultural heritage, offering everything from bland chain restaurants to authentic soul food treasures.
As a New Orleans native who’s spent years hunting down the perfect crawfish étouffée, I’ve had my fair share of disappointing steam tables and mind-blowing culinary experiences.
Whether you’re a tourist looking for genuine Cajun flavors or a local seeking comfort food that reminds you of grandma’s cooking, knowing which buffets deliver the goods is essential for your taste buds and wallet.
1. Carter’s Buffet – All Quantity, No Quality
My first visit to Carter’s left me wondering if Louisiana had suddenly lost its famous seasoning supply. The fried chicken sat under heat lamps so long it resembled leather more than poultry. Even their gumbo—a dish that’s practically impossible to mess up in Louisiana—tasted like someone whispered the word “cayenne” over a pot of lukewarm water.
The crawfish étouffée contained exactly three pieces of crawfish, all swimming desperately in a sea of cornstarch-thickened sauce. Honestly, I’ve had better Cajun food at gas stations!
What Carter’s does offer is quantity, with twelve different stations of mediocre food. The dessert table features puddings still showing the outline of their industrial-sized can. Save your appetite and your money for somewhere that remembers salt exists.
2. Generic Sunday Strip-Mall Buffets – Flavor Graveyard
You’ve seen them in every Louisiana strip mall—those generic Sunday buffets where families gather after church to eat food that’s about as inspired as the beige walls. Last Easter, my cousins dragged me to one where the jambalaya had exactly two pieces of sausage in the entire pan.
The vegetables arrive pre-boiled into submission, with green beans so soft they practically dissolve on your fork. Their idea of “Cajun seasoning” seems to be a light sprinkle of black pepper, considered daring by nobody’s standards.
Most offensive was their attempt at bread pudding—a Louisiana classic turned into something resembling wet Wonder Bread with cinnamon. The staff keeps refilling the sweet tea, perhaps hoping the sugar rush will distract from the culinary crimes being committed in the kitchen.
3. Poor-Quality Breakfast Buffets – Morning Disappointment
Mornings in Louisiana should start with beignets that poof clouds of powdered sugar and grits creamier than a dream. Instead, these breakfast buffets offer eggs that have been sitting so long they’ve developed that weird gray film on top. The bacon lies flat and sad, like it gave up on life hours ago.
During my last visit, I watched an employee refill the pancake tray without removing the old ones, creating an archaeological dig of flapjacks. The biscuits could double as hockey pucks—I actually heard one thunk when a child dropped it on the floor.
The coffee tastes like it was made yesterday and reheated, while the fruit salad features melon cubes that crunch when they absolutely shouldn’t. Skip these morning monstrosities and find a local diner where breakfast is cooked to order.
4. Rural Taco-Soup Buffets – Cultural Confusion
Louisiana’s rural areas have spawned a bizarre hybrid: the taco-soup buffet that does justice to neither Mexican nor Cajun cuisine. My brother-in-law swore this place was “authentic,” but authentic what remained the question. Their gumbo contained pasta shells instead of rice, a culinary decision that should be prosecutable.
The taco section featured pre-formed shells filled with something labeled “beef mixture” that had the consistency of wet sand. Their attempt at combining cuisines resulted in a crawfish quesadilla that tasted predominantly of processed cheese and disappointment.
Most baffling was their specialty: “Cajun taco soup”—essentially tomato soup with kidney beans and a single shake of hot sauce. The salsa bar offered three identical mild salsas in different colored containers. These places exist in a culinary no-man’s-land where good taste goes to die.
5. Overcooked Chicken Brunch Buffets – Moisture-Free Zone
The chicken at these brunch buffets has been cooked so thoroughly that scientists could study it as an alternative to dehydration technology. Last summer, I watched my uncle try to cut a chicken breast that skidded across his plate like a hockey puck. The carving station attendant needs bicep strength not for slicing but for sawing through meat with the texture of particleboard.
Side dishes don’t fare much better—mac and cheese solidified into a single mass that requires mining equipment to portion. The mashed potatoes develop that tell-tale skin indicating they’ve been exposed to air longer than most Hollywood marriages last.
Even their desserts suffer from moisture deficiency. The bread pudding—a Louisiana staple that should be luxuriously soft—resembles construction material more than food. These places seem to believe that keeping food at thermonuclear temperatures somehow preserves quality rather than cremating it.
6. Bland Chain-Style Buffets Near Rayville – Corporate Cajun
Corporate chains near Rayville have mastered the art of stripping Louisiana cuisine of its soul while keeping its appearance. Their gumbo looks the part but tastes like it was developed in a laboratory by people who’ve never set foot in Louisiana. The recipe seems to be: brown water + frozen okra = authentic!
Every dish comes with a laminated description card explaining its cultural significance, which is ironic considering how thoroughly they’ve erased any cultural flavor. Their crawfish étouffée contains perfectly uniform pieces of seafood that taste suspiciously unlike crawfish.
The bread pudding arrives in perfect squares, suggesting it was shipped pre-made from a factory somewhere in the Midwest. What these places offer is consistency—you can consistently count on everything tasting like the color beige. If you want food that’s been focus-grouped rather than lovingly prepared, these corporate Cajun pretenders are your spot.
7. Generic Asian-Heavy Buffets – Cultural Mismatch
Someone decided Louisiana needed buffets that serve egg rolls next to jambalaya, creating a cultural collision that satisfies neither cuisine. The “Cajun section” typically features a sad pot of red beans that haven’t seen a ham hock in their life, alongside rice so undercooked it could chip a tooth.
Meanwhile, the Asian offerings aren’t much better. The sweet and sour chicken consists mostly of batter soaked in neon sauce that would glow under blacklight. During my last visit, I watched the crab rangoon sit untouched for so long that the cream cheese filling actually started to separate.
Most perplexing is their bizarre fusion attempts—like “Cajun lo mein” that’s just regular lo mein with an alarming amount of cayenne pepper dumped on top. These places can’t decide what they want to be, resulting in food that lacks identity, flavor, and basic respect for either culinary tradition.
8. Rascal’s Cajun Restaurant – Grandma’s Kitchen Reborn
Walking into Rascal’s feels like entering your Cajun grandmother’s kitchen if she could feed 200 people at once. The aroma hits you first—holy trinity (onions, bell pepper, celery) sautéing in butter, seafood stock simmering, and that distinctive scent of properly made roux that takes patience and love.
Their gumbo contains more shrimp and andouille sausage than liquid, each spoonful a treasure hunt of flavor. Last Mardi Gras, I watched an elderly cook hand-stuff crab into mirliton squash for their special—a dish so labor-intensive most restaurants won’t attempt it.
What sets Rascal’s apart is authenticity without pretension. Nothing has a fancy name or artful presentation, just honest food in generous portions. The bread pudding uses French bread from a local bakery, soaked overnight in a custard that makes me want to slap somebody it’s so good. This place remembers that Louisiana cuisine is about heart, not shortcuts.
9. Southern Soul Food Buffet – History On A Plate
The Southern Soul Food Buffet isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a living museum of African American culinary influence on Louisiana cuisine. Ms. Earline, the 78-year-old owner, still makes her roux the way her great-grandmother taught her, standing over the stove for 45 minutes until it’s the color of dark chocolate.
Their smothered pork chops fall apart at the touch of a fork, swimming in gravy that should be classified as a controlled substance it’s so addictive. The collard greens simmer with smoked turkey necks instead of ham hocks—a family tradition that Ms. Earline explains makes them “more soulful.”
What I love most is how they honor heritage while making subtle improvements. Their cornbread includes creamed corn for moisture while maintaining that crispy skillet edge. Each table features three different hot sauces made in-house, ranging from mild to what they playfully call “Baptist Revival Hot” because “it’ll make you see Jesus.”
10. Louisiana Purchase Kitchen – Seafood Paradise
The Louisiana Purchase Kitchen built its reputation on seafood so fresh you’d swear it jumped from the bayou directly into the pot. Their crawfish étouffée changed my understanding of what the dish could be—each tail perfectly tender, the sauce rich without heaviness, and a hint of heat that builds rather than overwhelms.
Unlike other buffets where seafood means frozen and imported, they post daily which local fishermen supplied their catch. The crab station features whole boiled blue crabs seasoned perfectly, with staff who’ll show first-timers how to crack them properly.
My favorite touch is their oyster bar where you can choose between raw, chargrilled with garlic butter, or Rockefeller style. The chef told me they go through over 2,000 oysters on a busy Saturday. Their remoulade sauce contains 16 ingredients, a recipe the owner’s family has guarded for three generations. This place understands that Louisiana’s waters provide everything needed for culinary magic.
11. Dooky Chase’s – Where Legends Dine
Dooky Chase’s isn’t just a restaurant—it’s a cultural institution where civil rights leaders once gathered and presidents have dined. Their buffet offerings change daily, but the fried chicken remains constant—a recipe so perfect it convinced my vegetarian sister to fall off the wagon after one whiff.
The late Chef Leah Chase’s presence still dominates the kitchen through recipes now executed by her family. Their gumbo z’herbes (green gumbo) appears only during Lent, containing nine different greens for good luck. I once saw a man close his eyes in reverence after his first spoonful.
What separates Dooky’s from pretenders is their commitment to tradition while acknowledging evolution. Their mac and cheese contains five cheeses, a modern touch to a classic dish. The walls display African American art from local artists, feeding both body and soul. When you eat here, you’re not just having lunch—you’re participating in living history.
12. Marilynn’s Place – Creole Comfort Revolution
Housed in a converted gas station, Marilynn’s doesn’t look like much until you taste what’s coming out of their kitchen. Their buffet turns traditional dishes sideways with creative twists that somehow make them more authentic, not less. The red beans and rice contains coffee in the cooking liquid—a secret I pried out of the chef after my third visit in one week.
Chef Robert has tattoos of Louisiana ingredients running down his arms and a philosophy that “if it grows together, it goes together.” This explains his seasonal crawfish and mirliton casserole that had me literally scraping the serving dish when they ran out.
The star attraction might be their boudin balls—crispy on the outside, perfectly spiced and moist inside. They’re served with a pepper jelly aioli that should be illegal. The dessert section features mini king cakes year-round, not just during Carnival season, because as Robert says, “Life’s too short to wait for good things.”
13. Nonna’s Cafe – Italian-Cajun Perfection
Louisiana’s Italian influence shines at Nonna’s, where Sicilian traditions marry Cajun techniques in a culinary love story. Their muffuletta pasta salad combines the iconic sandwich ingredients with pasta, creating something entirely new yet familiar. My Italian grandfather and Cajun grandmother would both approve—high praise indeed.
The steam table features lasagna made with thin layers of housemade pasta separated by a sauce containing both ground beef and andouille sausage. Their eggplant parmesan uses local Creole eggplants, smaller and sweeter than Italian varieties.
What truly demonstrates their cross-cultural mastery is the seafood section. Their crawfish-stuffed shells swim in a sauce that’s half Louisiana cream sauce, half Italian bechamel. The chef, Maria, is a third-generation Sicilian-Louisianian who learned cooking from both grandmothers simultaneously. “I don’t fusion cook,” she insists. “This is just how we’ve always eaten at home.” Nonna’s proves that Louisiana cuisine has always been about beautiful cultural collisions.
14. Jumbo Buffet – Seafood Celebration
Don’t let the generic name fool you—Jumbo Buffet serves Louisiana seafood prepared with reverence and skill. Their crawfish boil station features a continuously refreshed pot where you can watch them dump in new batches every twenty minutes, ensuring nothing sits too long. The seasoning level perfectly balances heat with flavor, and they’ll provide bibs without judgment.
During soft shell crab season, I’ve seen people line up thirty deep for their cornmeal-crusted beauties. The chef insists on using only crabs caught within 24 hours of molting—the sweet spot for texture and flavor. Their seafood gumbo contains more protein than liquid, loaded with shrimp, crab, and oysters in a roux dark as midnight.
What impresses me most is their commitment to sustainability. Signs identify which local waters provided each offering, and they participate in shell recycling programs that help rebuild oyster reefs. This place understands that preserving Louisiana’s seafood traditions means protecting its waters too.