Let me be honest: I had never heard of The Chloe before reading this interview, and now I’m low-key offended. Not because the food sounds incredible—though it does, those smoked pork belly lettuce cups are legitimately making me hungry—but because somehow, in all my trips to New Orleans, I never stumbled into this Uptown hideaway. That’s the thing about Tarriona “Tank” Ball’s New Orleans. It’s not the city you see on Bourbon Street. It’s the one that exists in the in-between spaces, the corners where musicians actually hang out when they’re not on stage.
According to Rolling Stone’s interview with the Grammy-winning frontwoman, her ideal night starts at The Chloe, a hotel and restaurant on St. Charles Avenue where the decor basically screams “I have taste and money.” Dark wood, bold patterned wallpaper, luxuriant couches. It is, in other words, the exact opposite of a tourist trap. And here’s what stuck with me: she says they treat her well there. That matters when you’ve spent decades in the Industry, constantly being someone’s customer. You can tell when a place has genuine warmth versus when they’re just glad to have a celebrity in the house.
The menu at The Chloe is the kind of thing that makes you want to book a flight immediately. The twin stack burger, which she casually mentions is “a frequent contender for best burger in town,” has me curious. I haven’t done a formal ranking or anything, but that’s the kind of claim that gets my attention.
Now, if you’re sensing a theme here—high-end dinner followed by more casual vibes—you’re tracking with Tank’s evening blueprint. Next up, she heads to Clesi’s Seafood Restaurant in Mid City, and this is where the real love comes through. The woman is “obsessed” with their crawfish. She literally said she’s never dipped crawfish in her life until Clesi’s introduced her to their special dip. That level of enthusiasm is hard to fake. When someone describes crawfish as “so good… so juicy” and says the service is great, I’m taking notes.
The timing matters too. Crawfish season peaks from March through May, so if you’re planning a trip, mark your calendar. This isn’t the kind of dish you want to chase out of season.
Here’s where Tank’s New Orleans gets really interesting. She doesn’t just go out to eat. She goes out to be around her community. Common House is a private social club where she can catch DJs and hang with fellow creatives. Then there’s Poetry on the Porch with Tank and the Bangas, held at the Emerald Door in Bywater. It’s literally a porch. In a garden. In New Orleans. She hosts it between tours because, and I love this logic, “Since I don’t get out much, I thought I could bring the poets to me.” That’s the move of someone who understands that community doesn’t just happen—you create the conditions for it.
The Dew Drop Inn gets a mention too, and this one feels significant. It’s historic. Little Richard played there. Ray Charles. Irma Thomas. It was restored and reopened recently, which means there’s a whole new generation about to make memories in a room where legends used to blow minds. That’s the architecture of a music city right there—places with ghosts and fresh paint simultaneously.
Frenchman Street comes next, which is basically the answer to “where do musicians go when they want to hear other musicians?” And then there’s The John, a dive bar where she specifically seeks out green tea shots from her favorite bartender. I respect the specificity. A good bartender relationship is foundational to any good night out.
The food truck situation on St. Claude Avenue is where this gets really New Orleans. “If no restaurants are open, I need to find someone who’s cooking right on the street.” Someone’s always grilling. Oysters. Sausages. Occasionally boiling crawfish. That’s not a scene you find in every city—that’s a city that eats at 2 AM and wants you to eat with them.
Johnny’s Jamaican Grill gets the late-night call for jerk chicken, curry chicken, and oxtail. Then NightBloom for a nightcap, where they play Sade and Erykah Badu on vinyl and serve a drink called the “Miss V” (named after drag superstar Vanessa Vanjie Mateo). The details matter here. This isn’t a generic night out. It’s a carefully curated series of places that reflect who she is—someone who moves between genres, between crowds, between the polished and the raw.
What strikes me most is her answer about what she’s looking for in music when she goes out: “energetic, new, fresh, dope musicians, along with some older ones that may just be getting off tour—a big star, but they’re chilling with everybody.” She wants to feel lucky to catch someone. That’s the vibe of someone who still marvels at the magic of live music, even after winning a Grammy and touring the world.
New Orleans, if you’re listening, thank you for existing in a way that makes this kind of night possible. Not every city has the infrastructure for joy. Yours clearly does.
