Po'boy versus Poorboy

There are a few native to New Orleans sandwiches, but the most famous is the po-boy.   The po-boy is the name in common local usage, shortened from the formal, “poor boy” sandwich. In fact, no self-respecting New Orleanian would ever call it a “poor boy” – just say po-boy and you’ll be good.  Many travelers ask me where to get the best po-boy.   I offer them two suggestions.  But the caveat is, these two po-boy styles are wildly different. The main, but not only, differentiator here is the bread; these two styles of bread speaks to two different waves of immigrants.   

 So, let’s start with a traditional po-boy.  The key to getting it right is the bread.  The ingredients between the bread can vary widely:  shrimp, roast beef,  fried green tomatoes- you’ve got to get the bread right. For the traditional po’boy we use what New Orleanians call “French bread”. However, it’s not like any baguette you’ve ever seen, and here’s why:  the bakers of 19th century New Orleans were German.   

 There were two waves of Germans that came to the New Orleans area. The earliest were Germans that settled in 1721, the second and larger wave of German immigration began in the 1840s and 1850s. That latter wave included a host of prominent bakers in the city.  The most famous German bakery from this time period, also the maker of the quintessential traditional poboy bread, is the Leidenheimer Bakery.   The family is now in its the fifth generation here and has been steadily baking since 1896.  

 The Leidenheimer po-boy bread, known everywhere as “French Bread” has a crunchy, flaky, sturdy crust,   it’s airy and light on the inside.   Add your shrimp, oysters, whatever, and as you bite in, the light airy inside of the bread collapses so the “meat” of the sandwich can stand out.  

My favorite of the classic style po-boys is made by Parkway Bakery.  They have a lengthy menu that includes favorites like shrimp and catfish.   Full disclosure; yours truly is a seafood lover.  They use real Louisiana seafood – another reason to love Parkway.  Using locally sourced ingredients makes sense; the freshness of the seafood translates into the best possible flavor. For a good ten years, the wild caught Louisiana shrimp was my go to.  But these days, I am torn between it and the catfish.  My solution is to go with a friend and order one of each – split and swap halves, and vióla, problem solved.   If you’re lucky enough to go on a Wednesday or Thursday, Parkways offers a wonderful oyster po’boy.  Using Louisiana wild caught oysters, flash fried to avoid overcooking, produces a delicate, crunchy, fried oyster perfection experience. Parkway is also famous for their house made roast beef, soaking in a savory gravy- it’s more akin to a pot roast. The beef has been slow cooked, creating such a succulent tender meat, it l falls apart when served, piled upon your Leidenheimer bread, and liberally covered in gravy, a drippy and delightful meal.  Be ready with multiple napkins.   Did I mention this place is dangerously close to my house? 

 My other suggestion for your po-boy exploration is Killer Poboys, which is a relatively newcomer to the po-boy world, and a decidedly “nontraditional” po-boy joint.  The bread used at Killer Poboys is a Vietnamese style baguette.  These mini-French loaves, or pistolettes, are also used for Bahn Mi sandwiches.   Brief aside, in New Orleans, Bahn Mi are often called Vietnamese Po-boys.    

 The Vietnamese are another, lesser known and far more recent, immigrant group to arrive in New Orleans.   How did the Vietnamese come to settle in New Orleans, you ask?  There were a few reasons: similarities in the climate, New Orleans was another place colonized by the French, and many Vietnamese were Catholic.   New Orleans’ origin story is steeped in Catholicism and has always maintained deep Catholic connections (hello Mardi Gras!).   Starting in 1975, after the fall of Saigon, many Vietnamese people were relocated to New Orleans in an effort spearheaded by Catholic Charities, a local social services organization. Many of these immigrants settled in New Orleans East where began a thriving community.  The Vietnamese already had a deep history as bakers due the French occupation of Vietnam,  so like the German’s before them, they quickly got baking in the Crescent City.   

The most beloved and well known of the Vietnamese bakeries here is Dong Phuong, founded in 1982.  Dong Phuong was hit hard during Hurricane Katrina.   New Orleans East, where the bakery is located, bore the brunt of the floodwaters resulting from the failure of the federal levee system. However, Dong Phuong recovered, rebuilt and came back stronger; they even won a James Beard Award in in 2018 in the American classics category. Their bread is flawless, and Dong Phuong supplies the bread for Killer Poboys.   

 My go to choice at Killer Poboys is Seared Gulf Shrimp (see a theme here?) – it is served with pickled carrots, daikon radish,  cucumbers, Sriracha aioli, and fresh herbs. All those ingredients between the light, yet chewy Dong Phong bread is simply delightful! The Pork Belly is a winner too, the pork is glazed with rum and ginger and served with lime and cabbage slaw and garlic aioli. One of the other reasons I love Killer Po'boys is that they are not afraid to trail-blaze and veer waaaay off the beaten po-boy path. There’s always a vegan option on the menu. The Roasted Sweet Potato po’boy has braised collard greens, black eyed peas and pecan spread on the sandwich. These ingredients shout out to me – “ New Orleans’ culinary influences are African too!.”  Both black eyed peas and stewed dark leafy greens came to us via Africa. Considering that enslaved peoples brought with them their style of cooking,  the fingerprints of Africa are all over traditional New Orleans style food.    

So, there you have it, two distinct takes of this curiously named,  New Orleans born, sandwich. As you sink your teeth into your po’boy, remember: New Orleans is an immigrant city, and these immigrants provide the beloved bread of our favorite city. Bon appetite!  

Caribbean flavors in the Crescent City

I just love the environs of Cane and Table, it is one of the reasons I suggested my friend Raquel & I go for our first meal out together after recently reconnecting. 

The space speaks to me; the distressed walls of the dining room, an outdoor stairwell, kitchen in the back beyond the stairs, and especially their private courtyard/patio all meld into an atmospheric old world environment that is subtle yet seductive. Raquel, a New Orleans native who moved away 30 years ago, had recently moved back, so the pressure was on.   I wanted to share a place I have appreciated in the New Orleans dining scene that had popped up since she left.  Just to make things more interesting, this was my first foray into dining out during the global covid-19 pandemic. 

I knew this Caribbean influenced bar and restaurant had a notable selection of cocktails (they are a James Beard Foundation Outstanding Cocktail Program Semi-Finalist, after all) which I assumed would appeal to my comadre in eating & imbibing.  True to her New Orleans roots, my girl enjoys a good, strong cocktail.  She ordered the Mezcal Negroni, which is the classic Negroni with Campari & sweet vermouth but it substitutes a smoky mezcal for the gin. I honestly don’t remember her thoughts on the drink, but I know if it had been subpar I would have heard about it.   I, however, do not have as hollow of a leg, so I started off with the sherry spritz.  I chose something lighter, not only because I am a bit of a lightweight, but also in consideration of the double punch of the summer eve’s heat and humidity. Sherry, being from Spain, is part of the DNA of Caribbean cuisine.  I feel like these drinks are a great example of what Cane and Table is setting out to do. The restaurant is described as “coastally inspired…marrying Caribbean flavors with Cuban influences.” I would go as far as calling it pan- Latin.  At the bar, they incorporate spirits from all rum producing countries, including ones from Mexico and Spain that showed up in our drinks. Indeed, they are most well known for their various rum drinks, they craft “proto-tiki” inspired cocktails.

In these strange times of Covid, the dining arrangement was quite different.  We donned our masks upon entry. We were directed to give our orders in the front dining area with the hostess, then to take our seats out in the patio.  Masks were required when moving through the restaurant and to our outside table. The outdoor tables were mindfully distanced.

Shortly after sitting down with our drinks, our ordered watermelon salad and crispy brussels sprouts came out.  The brussels had a lot of flavors and textures, first fried, then topped with crunchy marcona almonds pieces, creamy cotija cheese, an aioli, and habanero sauce.   I am a sucker for Marcona almonds, having originally been introduced to them when living in Spain.  Thirty years ago, pre–globalization, I used to lovingly pack them to bring back stateside and share as the precious, special occasion, treats they were, so I’m thrilled they are far more common and available today. I had never considered using Brussels sprouts in Latin cuisine, but the flavors worked and the heat of the habanero was a departure for a dish that seems otherwise fairly ubiquitous on menus today. Decadent and delightful; I loved this dish!  

 The Watermelon salad was a welcomed, lighter counterpart. The jalapeño vinaigrette had a lot going on, citrusy, a nice not overpowering heat, and with an almost nutty flavor the source of which I could not quite identify, I’m still curious what hidden ingredient produced it. It was topped with frisee and crumbled cheese. Despite being an admitted skeptic of sweet & savory flavor combos, I truly liked this dish.  One of the great things about dining with someone else is getting to eat something not on your prescribed list of preferred flavors, stretching your repertoire by trying something new.   

The grand finale for us were the Crispy Braised Ribs. Placed on top of a generous portion of rice & peas, four ribs sat alongside a serving of Pikliz.   Pikliz is a Haitian style cabbage, carrot & chile condiment akin to a slaw.  It has a vinegary bite that cuts the fat of the ribs and brings the whole dish together. I would have liked more of the Pikliz, mostly because I would have eaten less of the rice and peas.  Common in Caribbean cuisine, “rice and peas” is a mixture with a lot a rice and just a smattering of beans.  The rice and peas tasted of abuela’s cooking; classic, homey and good. The nouvelle twist for the plate was the toothsome fatty ribs- yum. There was a habanero hot sauce as well, but it was expertly incorporated so it did not overpower.   

  Our server was extremely affable and his friendliness enhanced the purposely less hands on Covid dining experience. The vibe is casual enough to be comfortable sharing drinks with friends, or perfectly acceptable for a fancier upscale date night.  There is a range of dress on display, although, tank tops and flip flops would be out of place.

 The Chef, Alfredo Nogueira, is a New Orleanian of Cuban descent.   The Cuba connections run deep in the Crescent City.  Here’s a little history; during the Spanish period of colonial Louisiana, 1763-1802, New Orleans’ big boss was Madrid, Spain.  But the chain of command went from Madrid to Havana, then on to New Orleans.  In essence, we were the underlings in all military, government  and religious matters- the religion was Catholic, of course.  Almost two centuries later New Orleans and Cuba still maintained a robust trade relationship.  In the late 1940s and 1950s, New Orleans Mayor “Chep” Morrision visited Cuba several times and the mayors of Havana visited our city, fortifying economic ties.  In the 1950s, about one third of New Orleans’ exports were destined for Cuba. Mainly these consisted of food items, things like flour and rice (but of course!, for the aforementioned eponymous rice and beans). But the Crescent City had many Cuban imports as well, particularly unrefined sugar, molasses and tobacco.  On the eve of the 1959 Cuban Revolution, these economic bonds were strong. When the new regime’s leader, Fidel Castro, came into power, New Orleans wanted to keep the trade going. Castro was twice invited to visit the Crescent City, although he declined, noting a busy schedule but he implied he would come in the future.  

 When things started to change on the island post revolution, many Cubans left.  Miami was not the only city to receive an influx of Cubanos when people started to leave the island during the socio- political upheaval, New Orleans experienced waves of Cuban immigrants as well, albeit smaller.  My fellow diner, Raquel herself, is the daughter of Cuban immigrant that arrived to New Orleans in 1961.  Her dad and his parents first lived in the French Quarter and operated a small business there.  

All this intriguing history is one of the reasons that I love that Cane and Table sits inside the Vieux Carre.  Architecturally speaking, the French Quarter could be more accurately called the “Spanish Quarter,” and I can hear the subtle whispering of the past whenever I am there, which makes it the perfect setting for Cane and Table’s modern approach to Caribbean flavors. And, these days the Quarter hosts many more commercialized eateries specializing in capturing the tourist trade, along with the well known, old line grand dames. Cane & Table is a welcomed departure, appreciated by and drawing in locals as well as tourists. It can be tricky to find, quietly tucked in between more boisterous places on Decatur Street in the lower Quarter, but it is well worth the visit.