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"Oh, you're a writer?" said the manager. "I have to show you this. Be right back." My cover was blown, but it was worth it, as he returned promptly with a Marti's notecard, signed and dated by Tennessee Williams. Now, the late Mr. Williams has a way of popping up everywhere in New Orleans, but it's still always a thrill to see little glimpses of his world up close. 

And Marti's was a big part of his world.

Back in the day, Marti's was the place to see and be seen in the French Quarter for the pre-theater society set, where the moneyed could mingle with their artsy friends before seeing a show across the street at the Municipal Auditorium. Tennessee Williams was just one of the many local names, both well-heeled and notorious, who regularly lingered at the elegant bar or supped in the dimly-lit dining room. 

After many years, Marti's closed, being replaced with Peristyle in 1988, where Chef Anne Kearney ushered in a new wave of delicate fine dining in an old-line gourmet town. Eventually, after Kearney left and the place shut down, the building closed its doors, which remained shuttered for a number of years until fall of 2013.

It was then that restaurateur Patrick Singley, known for the upscale Gautreau's and Ivy, reopened it with the old name and the old vibe, but with a subtle makeover (keeping most of the prominent features of the old restaurant intact, including the well-known mural in the bar), as well as a new menu in the hands of a relatively unknown new chef.

Chef Drew Lockett is the man in question, and a quick conversation with him made it clear that he is a back-of-house chef, the sort who puts not only his vision into the menu, but his actual touch on every dish that leaves his kitchen. His pedigree's not bad: a local (North Shore) boy, he's worked with Chef Donald Link and in a few kitchens in the Pacific Northwest.

Still, his name wasn't well-known until Patrick Singley handed him the reigns of the Marti's kitchen. Singley, who's made a star of more than one chef in the past, knows what he's doing here. And with his sleeves rolled up and a face flushed from hours behind a hot stove, Chef Drew is clearly in the trenches, ready to be an equal partner in making a name for himself. 

If he keeps cooking food like this, it won't take long. His rustic, French-leaning menu is a powerhouse. My meal began with a classic frisée aux lardons, with the bitter French chicory leaves slightly sweetened by the addition of spinach. The whole thing was, in traditional French style, topped with a poached egg. I can seldom resist this particular staple when I see it on a menu; I'm a sucker for junk food disguised as a salad. But as with many simple dishes, it has a way of highlighting a kitchen's weaknesses, and here, I found none.

The egg was poached perfectly, allowing the yolk to ooze through the curly fingers of the lettuces and mix itself with the subtle, lemony vinaigrette. The lardons, a sort of poached cube of bacon, were toothsome and meaty, adding the requisite salt to the dish. Simple, of course, but perfect nonetheless.

Next came a tray of the roast oysters. I have yet to meet a roast or char-grilled oyster in this town that I didn't like, but this was a good one. A bit bready, perhaps, but I'm not going to quibble over a few extra spicy, lightly oily bread crumbs. Did I lick the shells to get every last one? No. But I had company and was trying to be polite. 

For my entree, I delved into the gamier portion of the menu, which is substantial, and ordered Mississippi rabbit two ways. Now, some people will tell you that rabbit tastes just like chicken. If your rabbit tastes just like chicken, it's not prepared very well. Rabbit shouldn't taste like chicken; it's a richer, earthier meat that deserves its own fair shake.

Chef Drew certainly gave it that. Legs were braised to an unctuous tenderness that was cut by a rich, salty serving of mustard greens. A house-made rabbit sausage was densely flavorful, with hints of garlic and sage. On the side, a simple dirty rice that was not remarkable on its own but which seamlessly tied together the other elements on the plate.

After all that, I wasn't really in a position to order a huge dessert (though there were tempting options on the menu), but my waiter suggested a hand-made sorbet made with Louisiana blueberries. Perfect. It was velvety and lightly sweet, and ended the meal on just the right note.

Would Tennessee Williams hang out here if he was alive today? It's hard to say. The man did talk often about nostalgia and the passage of time, so he might have capital-f-Feelings about a re-imagining of his old stomping grounds. Then again, I bet he'd be a sucker for the giant platter of fresh seafood that looms large over the rest of the menu. He was human, after all.

Prices are on the high side ($25-40 for mains), but not out of line with other gourmet restaurants in the neighborhood. Small plates are available at the bar, if you'd like a hint of the experience without the price tag.

Service is friendly but with a hint of old-school formality. The restaurant is dimly-lit and well-appointed for a business dinner or a date. Though well-behaved children are surely welcome, the menu definitely leans toward adult tastes and children would likely prefer a less-hushed atmosphere elsewhere.

Vegetarians should probably look for a different restaurant; there are a few meat-free dishes on the menu (and lots of fish), but it's pretty solidly omnivorous. Business casual dress is de rigueur, though jackets are not required. Reservations are strongly recommended.

1041 Dumaine St. / (504) 522-5478 / martisnola.com

As is common in the travel industry, the writer was provided with complimentary services for review purposes. While it has not influenced this review, About.com believes in full disclosure of all potential conflicts of interest. For more information, see our Ethics Policy.