Inside, Petunias is an instant respite from the grit of Washington Avenue. Even for a local, it's a hard find A the 30-seat storefront is a narrow little niche, the name on the plate-glass window overshadowed by an awning. Louis Street Petunias in New Orleans, a couple of months ago I heard about it from a colleague of my husband's who was afraid it would go out of business without some help spreading the word. Ron Studdard and David Osborn opened Petunias, sister to the St. Their dishes aren't the stuff celeb-chef Emeril Lagasse's dreams are made of, but they are the solid, workingperson's lunch or dinner, courtesy of the only city in the country that can match us table for open-air-cafe table. Washington Avenue's newest and only New Orleans-style eatery, Petunias Restaurant, delivers what South Beach lacks - jambalaya and shrimp Creole, blackened steak and stuffed crpes. The first is required to forgive small lapses the other requires forgiveness. But most likely it's because the main ingredients needed are nonindigenous, necessitating compromises on the part of diner and restaurateur alike. Or because we don't have Cajuns here and no one ever knew (or cared to know) how to grill a catfish fillet to a sweet and piquant finale, or how to steam a mean plate of crawfish. Perhaps it's because we have New World, our own brand of fusion cookery. But in spite of regional similarities that are impossible to overlook, Miami has never embraced the food that makes New Orleans a hot ticket on the national dining scene. Sexy, spicy Cajun and Creole fare, the real passionate thing. So maybe all I've been missing is the food. And yes, we have hurricanes that can blow your mind - away. We have tugboats on a river afloat with dead manatees and enough foreign languages to support a Berlitz school on every corner. We have skin-wringing humidity, thunder and lightning, pretty (old) buildings.

New Orleans is starting to sound a lot like Miami, where I do live. And over it all, the smell of hurricanes A a potent rum-based fruit punch - practically drifting from the bars and clubs lining the streets. Dialects and accents blending as if in a Cuisinart switched on high. Tugboats guiding cargo ships up and down the muddy river.

Distinctive architecture housing distinctive modern-art galleries. Moist breezes blowing into sudden summer pyrotechnics.

I'm homesick for New Orleans, though I've never actually lived there.

Betinias restaurant