Arnaud’s Restaurant in New Orleans.
Chef Tommy DiGiovanni was born and raised in New Orleans and grew up in the family business which meant he had a job after school every day at his father and uncle’s restaurant. His father, Gaetano “Guy” DiGiovanni, ran The Little Italian Restaurant, where he started working at age 12. By 14, he was working the line, and by 18, he was serious enough about the craft to pursue formal training at Delgado Community College. He then apprenticed at The Fairmont Hotel in New Orleans, working alongside classically trained European chefs who shaped his fundamentals in French technique. He was promoted to Sous Chef by the time he was 20.
In 1988, Arnaud’s came calling. Chef de Cuisine Andre LeDoux, who’d worked with DiGiovanni at The Fairmont, brought him on as Sous Chef, and it was under LeDoux, whom DiGiovanni calls his biggest inspiration, that he sharpened his command of classic French and Creole cuisine. From there, he moved to the Royal Orleans Hotel as Executive Sous Chef, then back to The Fairmont in the same role. But Arnaud’s wasn’t done with him. When the Chef de Cuisine position opened up in 1997, owner Archie Casbarian called DiGiovanni, and he’s been running that kitchen for nearly three decades now.
Arnaud’s has been serving the French Quarter diners since 1918, and DiGiovanni describes it as a “grand dame” and “as French Creole as it gets.” That tradition shows up in everything that leaves his kitchen. It’s a labor-intensive process with no shortcuts, and even if the potatoes aren’t right, they don’t go out. That’s the standard Chef Tommy DiGiovanni holds the entire kitchen to.
DiGiovanni truly embodies the spirit of New Orleans cuisine. His passion for the history of French Creole flavors shines through in every dish he creates while blending the classic techniques with modern twists. He invites diners on a culinary journey that honors tradition while embracing innovation. It’s this dynamic approach that ensures Arnaud’s remains a beloved staple in the heart of the city for generations to come.
{photo credit: from the Arnaud’s official Facebook page}
What’s your earliest memory of eating red beans and rice? Who made it, and what made it special?
Growing up in New Orleans, red beans and rice was just part of life. Food was always around me. My father had a neighborhood Italian restaurant, and I started working there when I was 12, so some of my earliest memories are of being around a kitchen and around people cooking for other people.
Red beans were different from restaurant food, though. They were home food. It wasn’t anything fancy. It was something you put on the stove and let cook, and everybody knew what day it was when they smelled it. What made it special wasn’t one particular ingredient. It was the familiarity of it. You knew that pot, you knew that smell, and you knew you were home.
Do you cook red beans and rice yourself, or do you leave it to someone else?
I cook them. I’ve spent my whole life in kitchens, so it’s pretty hard for me to leave a pot alone. But red beans are one of those dishes where you shouldn’t try to show off. The technique matters, but the simplicity is what makes the dish. Give the beans time and let the ingredients do what they’re supposed to do.
What ingredients have to go in your pot?
You’ve got to start with the trinity – onion, celery, and bell pepper – and garlic. Good seasoning, bay leaf, and some kind of smoked pork or sausage. Andouille is always a good option.
Then it’s time. That’s probably the most important ingredient. You can’t rush a pot of beans. Let them get creamy naturally, taste them as they cook, and adjust the seasoning at the end. Like anything else in a kitchen, having your mise en place together before you start makes everything easier.
If you could have red beans and rice with anyone—past or present—who would it be, and why?
I’d have them with my father.
I started in his restaurant when I was 12 years old, and that’s really where this whole career began. When you’re that young, you don’t necessarily realize what you’re learning. You’re watching how a restaurant operates, how people work together and how food brings people to the table.
I’ve been fortunate to cook professionally for a long time and to learn from some tremendous chefs, but it all started there. Sitting down over a bowl of red beans with my father would bring everything back to the beginning.
When did red beans and rice become personal for you – not just a Monday tradition, but something that actually meant something?
Probably when I had been cooking professionally long enough to understand that the simplest dishes can sometimes tell you the most about a cook.
I was trained by some wonderful classically trained chefs, and I developed a real love for classic French cooking. But being a New Orleans chef means understanding that our everyday dishes have just as much tradition behind them.
Red beans aren’t supposed to be complicated. That’s the beauty of them. When you’ve spent your career cooking Creole food and preserving traditions that came before you, you start appreciating dishes like red beans differently. They’re part of who we are.
What’s the best part of sharing a big pot of red beans and rice with friends or family?
Nobody needs an invitation to be formal around a pot of red beans.
You put the pot down, put the rice out, and everybody serves themselves. Somebody wants more sausage, somebody wants more beans, somebody adds hot sauce. People sit around and talk.
That’s what New Orleans food does particularly well. The food may be what gets everybody to the table, but being together is the important part.
What does red beans and rice mean to you?
Home. It’s New Orleans on a plate. It’s humble ingredients, good technique, patience, and tradition. That’s a combination I’ve respected throughout my career.
I’ve spent many years at Arnaud’s cooking in a restaurant with more than a century of history behind it, and one thing you learn in a place like that is that tradition survives because people continue practicing it. Red beans are the same way. Every Monday, another generation puts that pot on.
What does Monday mean in a New Orleans kitchen?
Monday means red beans.
But it also means routine and tradition. Restaurant kitchens are built around repetition — prepping correctly, making your stocks and sauces, getting your station ready, doing things the right way every time. New Orleans has its own rhythm like that, and red beans on Monday are part of it.
There is something comforting about knowing that all over the city, whether it’s somebody’s home, a neighborhood restaurant or a professional kitchen, there are pots of beans going at the same time.
Where is your favorite spot in New Orleans – anywhere?
I’d have to say the French Quarter.
I’ve spent a huge part of my career there, and there’s nowhere else quite like it. You have the restaurants, the architecture, the history, the music, and generations of people who have worked in the same buildings and carried these traditions forward.
For me, walking into Arnaud’s and knowing how much history is in those dining rooms and that kitchen never really gets old. I’ve been part of that restaurant for a large portion of my life, so the Quarter is tied to a lot of memories for me.
What is your favorite comfort food – your go-to meal?
I’m Italian, so a good bowl of pasta is hard to beat.
I grew up in my father’s Italian restaurant, so those flavors take me right back. It doesn’t have to be complicated. Good pasta, a sauce that’s been made properly, good cheese and some bread, and I’m happy.
Professionally, I’ve always loved classic French cooking, but when you’re talking about comfort food, I think most chefs eventually go back to whatever reminds them of where they started.
What’s the best way for someone outside of New Orleans to support you?
Visit us. Come to New Orleans, eat in our restaurants, stay in our hotels, listen to our musicians, and support the people who keep this culture going. When you eat at a restaurant like Arnaud’s, you’re supporting a lot more people than the chef whose name you might know. You’re supporting cooks, dishwashers, waiters, bartenders, fishermen, farmers, purveyors, and generations of people who have made hospitality their profession.
And when you can’t be here, keep cooking New Orleans food. Buy Louisiana seafood when you can. Tell people about the meals and experiences you’ve had here. These traditions stay alive because people continue to value them.
New Orleans has given me an entire career. Supporting the city and the people who feed it is the best way you can support me.
To stay up-to-date with Chef Tommy DiGiovanni, follow him online:
- website: https://www.arnaudsrestaurant.com/
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/arnauds.restaurant
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/arnaudsnola/
Eric Olsson is the food blogger of RedBeansAndEric.com. He publishes new recipes and interviews weekly. He has developed recipes and written articles for the famous Camellia brand in New Orleans, Louisiana. He has been mentioned in Louisiana Cookin‘ magazine and has had recipes featured in Taste of Home magazine – with his Creole Turkey recipe being runner up in their annual Thanksgiving recipe contest. He lives outside of Detroit, Michigan, with his wife and four children.
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