Boudreaux's Louisiana Seafood & Steaks tries for Mardi Gras but drops too many crab balls

Carol Ann was happier with her dinner — a hunk of red snapper with a fistful of crabmeat stuffed into its belly, lightly blackened and served with a buttery "topping" of broiled mushrooms, shrimp and more crab. "The vegetables are perfectly steamed," she said, "and the topping is a meal in itself. It's too much food."

I was tempted to order the signature steak, a 12-ounce marinated rib-eye, but I was more in the mood for a little soul food. The smothered pork chops were calling my name. The two 5-ounce chops were tender and juicy but drowned in a thin, brown gravy that splashed all over the table. The pink-orange "Cajun mashed potatoes" were at least served hot, if dry and only modestly spicy.

In fact, I didn't taste much that was particularly spicy. I don't know whether Robert Boudreau is keeping a lock on the spice cabinet because Kansas diners are notoriously timid when it comes to fiery seasonings or because that's just his personal style.

My friend Ross, who accompanied me on a different night, noticed the lack of heat in his visually impressive shrimp Creole. But was that so wrong? One of the big differences between Cajun and Creole culinary styles, I later discovered, is that Creole cooking uses more tomatoes, whereas Cajun cooks with more spices. Creole reflects a wider range of culinary influences than Cajun, so it's considered to be slightly more European — and richer. But the Boudreaux's menu describes the dish as being spicy, and Ross just wanted it ... spicier, damn it.

We'd begun that night's meal with one of the more eccentric starters: jalapeño "poppers" stuffed with — do I even have to say it? — crabmeat instead of cheese. They looked like big, luscious fritters and tasted like the crab-cake concoction crammed into a bloated jalapeño. It had more novelty appeal than great taste, but at least it sounded more festive than the crab balls.

This time, instead of going for one of the etouffe options or the Cajun barbecued shrimp, I chose a simple broiled snapper — unstuffed — served with Veracruz "topping" (a word so indelibly linked to ice cream that I have a hard time even writing it here) and slivered bell peppers, little pink shrimp, fingernail-sized crawfish tails and crabmeat in a butter-wine sauce. I ate it with the bread our waiter had brought out: toasted slices of French bread spread with garlic butter.

It was all very nice but nothing really to sing about. Not like Hank Williams or the Carpenters.