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“The Great Po' Boy Debate”

New Yorkers have strong opinions. This should come as no surprise. We passionately debate (read: yell and scream) about almost everything, from the best way to get from Tribeca to the Upper East Side, to the virtues of the floppy slice of pizza, to the supremacy of the Corner Bistro burger with a fervor that’s unmatched by anyone else in the country, if not the world. Well, that’s what I thought, until I brought up the issue of the Po’ Boy sandwich on a recent trip to New Orleans.

The Po’ Boy, for those of you who haven’t had one yet, is sort of like a submarine sandwich. But it’s served on a special foot long hero bread similar to French bread, that’s golden and crusty on the outside and airy and pillowy in the center, and it’s most typically stuffed with freshly fried seafood—oysters, shrimp, catfish, or crawfish, though it can also come with roast beef and cheese and the like—and then dressed with mayo, lettuce, tomato, pickles and hot sauce if you’re so inclined.

Mention a Po’ Boy to anyone who’s spent time in NOLA and you’ll probably be instructed to hit Domilise's, Uptown, and maybe Johnny’s in the Quarter as well.

On my most recent trip, on the sage advice of several local friends, we hit Domilise’s, a wonderfully rickety, weather-beaten shack on Annunciation with the words "Domilise’s Po-Boy and Bar" painted across its wooden shingles, and a long line of hungry customers that can stretch out onto the broken sidewalk under the shade of broad old oak trees at peak hours.

My "small" shrimp Po' Boy at Domilise's

We took a number and ordered up a round of Po’ Boys with Abita Amber and Zapp’s (the universe’s best potato chips) and waited by the old bar (with a mix of tourists and locals) for a few of the crowded tables to clear out. After a short wait (Zapp’s were opened to tide us over), our sandwiches were ready and a table of four women had conveniently just vacated, smiling wide with bellies bulging as they waddled out onto the street.

Now, I don’t want to start a riot or anything but while I found the Po’ Boys at Domilise’s to be good, they were not as good as the ones at Salvo’s, a Po’ Boy and seafood shop on the West Bank that Craig’s parents introduced me to last year. When I mentioned Salvo’s to friends from New Orleans, I got lots of quizzical looks, and some variation on: “Never heard of Salvo’s. Domilise’s is the best.” Now how can you say that if you’ve never been? To them, I say, go to Salvo’s, and then talk to me.

To be sure, I can appreciate the passion for Domilise’s (5240 Annunciation St, (504) 899-9126). The place is a charming old-school joint with a handwritten menu on the wall that probably dates to the 50s (with updated pricing), run by a crew of the sweetest hard-working little old gray haired ladies (with names like Miss Dot) who happily overstuff their sandwiches and dress them with all the fixin’s.

While the seafood is fresh and good, it’s not seasoned as well as at Salvo’s, and they’ve got a strange way with their dressing, including ketchup along with mayo and Creole mustard. Now, I am fine with the mayo and mustard, but the ketchup was too overpowering and just ruined the taste of the freshly fried seafood with an onslaught of sweet cloying tomato sauce. Perhaps if I’d known I could have avoided the ketchup kill, but I didn’t. And therefore my sandwich tasted more like something from an elementary school lunchroom—I had a distinct memory of fish sticks and ketchup that was not all together pleasant. Nonetheless, the experience is quite authentic and the folks at Domilise's do ooze that N’awlins love.

But my Po' Boy affections are with the folks at Salvo’s (7742 Hwy 23, Belle Chasse, (504) 393-7303). An incredibly friendly and festive seafood shack, Salvo’s is located in Belle Chasse on the West Bank, a stone’s throw from the US Navy Base so it’s often crowded with service men and women in graying fatigues, sitting down to a big ole’ hearty, wallet-friendly meal.

Like Domilise’s, there’s no waiter service here, you just walk inside to the brightly lit cafeteria-styled room, get in line and order your Po Boy at the counter—there’s a slew of options from shrimp to oyster, as well as daily specials of crab and catfish, crawfish and, sides of essential hush puppies. (There’s a fresh seafood counter here, so you can also order crabs, crawfish, and oysters etc., to go.)

Order yourself a nice frosty Abita, a root beer, or a sweet tea, and have a seat at one of the picnic tables adorned with gingham cloths and bottles of Crystal, along with other condiments that I find unnecessary in the face of the ultimate Louisiana hot sauce (Crystal is spicy, lemony, and perfect).

And then, it’s time to feast as the sandwiches are magnificent: perfectly dressed, and overflowing with crunchy oysters, thin strips of crispy catfish, and fat shrimp, all robed in a golden, well-seasoned batter. Lots of napkins will be helpful if you’re planning on wearing your clothes again. It’s heaven in between the bread. But it’s closed Sundays and Mondays so factor that into your plans.

I know I may be opening a can of worms here with this Po’ Boy debate but I’d like to hear from you. Where’s your favorite place for Po Boy? What about here in New York? Anywhere in the Big Apple do them right?

Fill me in and please Share Your Two Cents, below!

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Posted: January 27, 2009 - 1:15 pm

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