But first...how does one define the ideal po-boy?
The bread. French bread. Crusty, flaky, golden loaves with a chewy and somehow airy inside.
The roast beef. Prime cut. Not too fatty, but a little is fine. Cooked low and slow for hours to tender, juicy perfection. Infused with onion, garlic, and cayenne.
The dressings. Lettuce? Shredded iceberg. Whole leaves are unacceptable. Tomatoes? Creole. Big, fat ones sliced paper thin and piled on. Mayo? Blue Plate. Not too think, though. Just a nice layer to seal up the holes in the bread. Top it all off with a sprinkle of Tabasco, and you're almost done.
The gravy. Lovely, lovely debris gravy. Spicy, garlicky, dark-espresso-brown gravy full of those little not-quite-burnt bits of roast beef that have fallen off. Thickened until it's able to sit on the bread and not turn it into a mushy mess.
But there's more. A meal is defined - judged - by more than its ingredients. It's more than the sum of its parts. A meal is an experience, therefore location and service have to be considered as well. A restaurant without atmosphere is not one worth visiting, and the people there can transform a dining excursion from so-so to sublime.
And so, I present my Top 5...so far.
4th Runner-Up - Mother's on Poydras. Mother's has been around since 1938, and their menu has hardly changed. In this case, a good thing. Often called "the" place to eat a po-boy in the city. I went for lunch with family, and we took the half-hour wait to get in as a good sign. No one's going to waste their lunch break waiting in 100-degree heat for mediocre food. Once inside, we camped at our table and ordered. The interior is almost overwhelming. It would take weeks to read every article and study every picture on the walls. It's a beautiful chaos displayed on the open brick. Every employee, those running and weaving between tables and those taking a breather from the kitchen's heat, seemed happy. They talked to customers, joked with each other, and made it feel more like someone's dining room than a restaurant. Food came out fast, which is always nice. I was so excited to get my sandwich. Mother's po-boys, again, are to be the stuff of legend. However, mine was not. It wasn't "bad," but it was...underwhelming. Gravy was thin and sparse. Toppings the same. The meat was good but could have used more kick. The only two things that got Mother's on this list are atmosphere and the fact that everyone else at the table had excellent food (the catfish po-boy...exquisite). I'm willing to give it another go, though, because everyone does have their off days. Rating = 2 paper towels.
3rd Runner-Up - Domilise's off Tchopitoulas. Domilise's is another old workhorse in a blue-collar corner of the city. Far off the beaten path, but well worth the drive. The exterior could be described as sketchy at best, with its wonky, hand-painted plywood sign and siding badly in need of a pressure wash. Inside, though, is the type of beautiful that only a native could love. It's dark. It's cramped. The menu boards are a mess. The vinyl stool covers are cracked, foam batting puffing through. The walls are covered in newspapers yellow with age and washed-out photographs, circa 1972. The plastic bathroom utility sink actually resides in the dining room. But. Frosty Barq's. Amazing cooks. Local beer. And the sandwiches. Oh, my. A roast-beef po-boy from Domilise's is a local treasure. Every part of it is culinary joy. Each ingredient on its own is just right, and when joined as a whole, is wonderful. Unwrapping one of these beasts (even the small is quite large) is like Christmas. The textures. Crunchy, chewy, meaty, crisp. The savory, thick gravy. The garden-fresh dressings. The perfectly sliced roast beef (you can take a bite without having to grind your teeth or worry about it squitting out of the other side of the bread!). The only real drawback is the drive to get there. But do it. Rating = 3.5 paper towels.
2nd Runner-Up - Ignatius on Magazine. Walking into Ignatius can be off-putting for locals because the walls are lined in shelves and rows of Community Coffee, Zatarain's boxes, Barq's bottles, and the like. A tad touristy, but it's kitschy in its own fun way. Our waitress was so attentive and cheerful. She was great about ordering Holland's lunch before mine so she wouldn't be hungry or bored. Along with our carafe of water (genuis!) came a brown paper lunch bag stuffed with crusty french bread and butter. This little goodie could have been the whole meal! The actual meal, though...Holland's red beans and rice were creamy, thick, and in perfect proportion. A few minutes later, I saw the waitress approaching with my po-boy. In a bowl? No paper wrapper? Not on a plate? How odd. Then she set it before me, and when I saw the gravy flowing from the bread, I raised my eyes heavenward and said a little prayer. This was a thing of beauty. It was stuffed. I actually had to use my fork and eat about half of the roast beef to even pick up the sandwich. It wasn't sliced, either. It was cut into thick, tender hunks with just the right amount of char on the edges. Dressings were generous and fresh, and the bread stood its ground with the ladleful of gravy poured atop it. Rating = 4.5 paper towels.
1st Runner-Up - Danny & Clyde's in Metairie. Yes. A gas station. And home to one of the most generous, juicy, sloppy, wipe your face before, during, and in-between bites sandwiches in creation. A po-boy from Danny & Clyde's is not for the lightweight. One look at the oversized (thoroughly happy!) cooks will tell you most of what you need to know. These sandwiches are huge, huge, huge, and filled to overflowing with some of the tenderest slices of roast beef to be found. The gravy is on the thinner side, but the one-two punch of garlic and onion in it make up for any flaw. Once your newborn-sized, white paper-wrapped meal is handed to you, you could go home, but what fun would that be? Far better to find a spot at one of the orange formica booths and people-watch as you mop your face every 10 seconds. Danny & Clyde's is one of those places where you wouldn't be surprised to see an oil-rig grunt chowing down on a sandwich next to a three-piece-suited corporate attorney from the CBD, both happily stuffing themselves and chatting about the Saints in between bites. Surprisingly amazing food in a surprisingly fun spot are what Danny & Clyde's is all about. No picture of this one because (a) it's been years since I've had one, and (b) cameras don't exactly cross my mind at the gas station.
Rating = 4.5 paper towels.
The Blue-Ribbon Winner - Cafe' Reconcile on Oretha Castle Haley Blvd. Where to begin? The sunny, open-kitchened dining room? The friendliest waitstaff in the city? The incredible food? The restaurant's mission? In order...walking in to this restaurant just puts you in a good mood. Even on the rainy day we went, the dining area was bright and welcoming, with tons of local artists' work adorning the walls. The galley kitchen buzzes with orders flying, food being run, and a dessert display to die for. Not only will your server greet you and treat you like a guest in his or her home, but every other server and manager will, too. They don't care whose table you're occupying. They'll make sure you're content. I wanted to go there for white beans, but they had already run out and it was close to closing time. Instead, I went with the standby and am so glad I did. This po-boy was the best I've ever eaten. Every single piece was divine. I won't list every little bit, but I will say that this overstuffed sandwich was the kickiest one I've had (without having to add anything) and it's cooked to melt-in-your-mouth perfection. The roast beef is cut into hefty slabs, but they were so tender that eating it is effortless. The gravy is something I'd buy by the gallon. Consistency, flavor, everything was just...perfect. And if this food that is proof that a higher power exists isn't reason enough to fall in love with Cafe' Reconcile, their mission is. They employ at-risk teenagers from drug or poverty-ridden neighborhoods, train them in the restaurant business, and "graduate" them into jobs in the city's hotels and other restaurants. In ten years, over 500 people have been placed into careers through the area. How cool is that? No picture for this one, either (WAY too focused on the meal!), but that will be remedied over Christmas!
Rating = 5 paper towels.
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