You’re walking down Esplanade Avenue, the sun is starting to bite, and the air smells like jasmine and exhaust. Then, right at the corner of North Robertson, the scent changes. It’s heavy. It’s salty. It’s the smell of flour hitting hot grease and the "holy trinity" of onions, bell peppers, and celery softening in a stockpot. That’s Lil Dizzy in New Orleans.
Honestly, if you ask a local where to get the best fried chicken in the city, and they don't mention the Baquet family, they’re probably pulling your leg or they just moved here yesterday. This isn’t a "café" in the sense of avocado toast and oat milk lattes. It’s a shrine. It’s a living room with a industrial-sized kitchen. And for a minute there, back in 2020, we almost lost it for good.
The Baquet Legacy and the "Dizzy" Name
People get confused about the name. They think maybe it’s a jazz reference—which, okay, it is—but it’s way more personal. Wayne Baquet Sr. named the place after his grandson, Zachary, who played the trumpet at St. Augustine High School. Kid’s cheeks would puff out so much when he played that they called him "Li'l Dizzy" after Dizzy Gillespie.
But the roots go deeper than one kid with a horn. The Baquet family has been feeding this city since 1947. We’re talking about a lineage that started with the Paul Gross Chicken Coop and moved through the legendary Eddie’s in the 7th Ward. When you eat here, you aren't just getting lunch; you’re eating 75 years of trial, error, and survival.
Wayne Sr. basically grew up in the back of his dad’s bar, watching his mother, Myrtle, turn a small kitchen into a culinary destination. He eventually opened 11 restaurants of his own. Eleven. Lil Dizzy’s was meant to be the final chapter, the one tucked into the historic Treme neighborhood, the oldest African-American neighborhood in the country.
What Actually Happened During the Pandemic?
In late 2020, the news hit the city like a lead weight: Wayne Baquet Sr. was retiring and Lil Dizzy’s was closing. Permanently.
The pandemic was brutal on New Orleans. For a city that breathes through its restaurants, seeing the "For Sale" sign on that Treme corner felt like a death in the family. Wayne Sr. was 73. He didn't want to risk his health in the chaos of 25% capacity limits and mask mandates. He was ready to hang up the apron.
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Then came the pivot.
His son, Wayne Jr., and daughter-in-law, Arkesha, couldn't let it go. They prayed, they talked, and they realized that if they didn't step up, seven decades of Creole soul history would just... evaporate. They reopened the doors on February 15, 2021.
They changed a few things. The famous buffet? Gone. (Hygiene and efficiency won that battle). The breakfast service? Also gone. They focus on lunch now, Monday through Saturday. It’s leaner, faster, but the recipes? Those didn't move an inch.
The Food: What Most People Get Wrong
People use the terms "Cajun" and "Creole" interchangeably. Don't do that. Not here.
Creole soul food is about the melding of cultures—French, Spanish, African, Italian. It’s more refined than the rustic, spicy heat of Cajun country. At Lil Dizzy’s, it’s about depth of flavor.
The Gumbo Strategy
Wayne Sr. and his father developed a secret weapon decades ago: a dry roux. Most people spend hours standing over a stove stirring flour and oil until their arm falls off. The Baquets? They bake their roux in the oven. It’s a dry, seasoned powder that they can bag up to ensure the gumbo tastes exactly the same every single time.
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If you order the gumbo, you’re getting the Janet Baquet (Wayne Sr.’s wife) recipe. It’s loaded. Blue crab, shrimp, hot sausage, smoked sausage. It isn't just a soup; it’s a commitment.
The Fried Chicken Secret
There is a specific science to the chicken here.
- They wash and season it.
- They put it on ice.
- The Shock: They drop that ice-cold chicken directly into screaming hot oil.
The temperature difference "shocks" the skin, making it incredibly crispy while the inside stays almost impossibly juicy. It’s not overly battered. It’s not greasy. It’s just... correct.
The Catfish Jourdain
If you want to eat like a local who knows the menu inside out, skip the po'boy for once. Get the Catfish Jourdain. It’s a fried catfish fillet topped with a mountain of lump crabmeat and shrimp, all smothered in a lemon butter sauce. It’s the kind of dish that makes you need a nap immediately afterward, but you won't regret a single bite.
A Gathering Spot for Everyone
One of the coolest things about Lil Dizzy in New Orleans is the walls. They’re covered in photos. You’ll see Barack Obama (who famously ate here), George W. Bush, local Saints players, and jazz legends.
But look closer. You’ll also see the neighborhood regulars.
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The restaurant serves as a "common ground." You might be sitting next to the Executive Editor of the New York Times (Dean Baquet is Wayne Sr.’s brother, by the way) or a construction worker from down the street. In a city that can sometimes feel divided, Dizzy’s is a place where the only thing that matters is how good the mac and cheese is today.
"It's like walking into your auntie's living room, if your auntie happened to be the best cook in the state of Louisiana."
Real Talk: Practical Tips for Visiting
Don't just show up at 12:30 PM and expect to stroll to a table. That’s rookie behavior.
- The Line: It starts early. If you want to avoid the 45-minute wait, get there at 10:45 AM. They open at 11:00.
- The Specials: They have a rotation. Tuesday is White Beans. Thursday is Smothered Okra. Friday is Catfish Jourdain. Saturday is the Shrimp Grillade.
- The Treme Hat: They sell hats that say "TREME" on the front and "Lil Dizzy’s" on the back. It’s the ultimate "I know where the real food is" souvenir.
- Modernization: Arkesha and Wayne Jr. brought the place into the 21st century. They use Square for payments now, which means the line moves way faster than it used to.
Why It Still Matters in 2026
As of 2026, Lil Dizzy’s is actually expanding. There have been permits filed to use the vacant lot next door on North Robertson. This isn't a museum of the past; it’s a growing business.
In a world of corporate chains and "concept" restaurants designed for Instagram, Lil Dizzy’s remains authentic. It’s a Black-owned pillar of the Treme that survived Katrina, survived the pandemic, and survived the retirement of its founder. It matters because it’s a physical manifestation of New Orleans' resilience.
When you sit down with a plastic cup of sweet tea and a plate of red beans, you're supporting a family that chose to stay when it would have been much easier to leave.
Actionable Next Steps for Your Visit
- Check the Daily Special: Before you go, decide if you're a "Smothered Okra" person (Thursday) or a "White Beans" person (Tuesday). The fried chicken and gumbo are available every day, so use the specials to guide your timing.
- Order To-Go if the Wait is Long: If the line is wrapped around the building, call in a to-go order. You can take your haul over to Louis Armstrong Park nearby and have the best picnic of your life.
- Bring a Sharpie: You never know who you’re going to see. Seriously.
- Look for the Cookbook: If you want to try that dry roux method at home, buy the Baquet Family Cookbook at the counter. It’s one of the few ways to get those generational secrets without being born into the family.
The story of Lil Dizzy in New Orleans is still being written by Wayne Jr. and Arkesha. It’s a story about grease, family, and a neighborhood that refuses to lose its soul.