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Issue link: https://loumag.epubxp.com/i/453014
68 LOUISVILLE MAGAZINE 2.15 food bits drink I Chez Seneba 4218 Bishop Lane It's gonna take a lot to drag us away from you. By Anne Marshall Photo by Casey Chalmers t he DISH pull a fsh bone the size of a sewing needle from my mouth. Phew, caught that one. A near esophageal scrape at Chez Seneba, a Senegalese restaurant in Buechel, is a hazard worth risking to expe- rience a most memorable plate of smoky-sweet-spicy tilapia served carcass-style — head to tail, white fesh gripping bone, the whole flet coated in a pasty marinade that crisps once it hits the grill. Just of the Watterson Ex- pressway's Newburg Road exit, Chez Seneba is easy to miss. Lodged in a doughy-hued strip mall ft for small dining spots that read like nicknames — Rob-A-Que and Yummy Pollo, for instance — the whole plaza is dwarfed by the VanHoose Education Center, Jeferson County Public School's ad- ministrative fort. Walk into Chez Seneba and you may have to ding a counter bell to alert someone of your presence. On this Jan- uary day, it sounds as though someone in the kitchen is studying to become a U.S. citi- zen. Later, I'll hear a pleasant and automated female voice ask: "What are the powers of the federal government?" Te same voice answers: "One, print money. Two, declare war." Hard plastic guards Chez Seneba's front counter, save for a gap by the register. A rack of chips stands hip high. A gumball machine contains golf-ball-sized orbs of blue. On a television, a show ofers what sounds like African boy bands. West African art hangs on walls. I wouldn't say the atmosphere transports one to another continent. Yet when we order water and get bottles, I don't think to ask for tap. (Tip: Tis isn't a foreign country. Pitchers of free tap sit on a ledge.) Eight years ago, my husband and I ate at Chez Seneba, which at the time was located in a drive-thru hut in the middle of a south Louisville parking lot. It had two tables and a window that slid open when a customer walked inside. For eight years, the restaurant's whole grilled tila- pia has clung to its title as one of our best meals in Louisville. (We moved out of state for a few years and didn't realize it was still open until recently.) On this January afternoon, the fsh tastes like summer — light, faky and blackened by the grill. Whatever seasoning is in the marinade will sizzle our lips for another hour. A gen- erous bowl of couscous, along with an onion-and-olive side that reminds me of tapenade, soften the spice. Watching my husband dig into the fsh — fngers and fork — his words and actions steer cannibal. First bite: "Oh, my God. Tis is so good." A few later: "I'm all the way down to the tail." Even later: "Careful with the bones." With only skeletal remains: "I got deep into the head." Having emancipated a quivering, thumb-sized piece of fesh: "It's like a cheek or something." Fish devoured, we engage in Google to fnd out this very space once housed a Long John Silver's. What a mighty evolution. In walks a cheery woman with waist-long braids. She taps the bell. Chez Seneba's owner, a middle-aged native of Senegal with a scarf wrapped around her head, appears at the counter. "It's your favorite customer!" the customer declares. "I don't see her," the owner jokes. "I'm right here!" the cus- tomer shouts, laughing. She asks about chicken and rice, deliberates, and lists her choices, pausing briefy before throwing in one more — the whole grilled tilapia.