The Crescent City’s Greatest Po’Boys

Food & Drink | March 5, 2011

By Steve Garbarino

Just how passionate New Orleans is about its most famous sandwich is evident in a battle that’s been brewing for months, between two po’boy shops situated a mere block from each other in the city’s Irish Channel neighborhood.

On one corner, there’s Parasol’s, a hallowed po’boy pit stop that dates to 1952, recently purchased by a transplant from St. Petersburg, Florida. On the other corner, there’s Tracey’s, a sprawling po’boy shop and barroom opened last September by Parasol’s former proprietor, a local ousted when his digs were sold to the highest bidder: the Floridian.

The food-fighting rivalry is high drama in the Crescent City, celebrating Mardi Gras this Tuesday, and everybody has something to say about the situation, little of it good. Under its new ownership, Parasol’s is an impostor and the real deal is now a block away, so intoned some of the city’s foodie blogs, fueling the flame. Now the local newspaper, weeklies, and TV newscasts are keeping a steady vigil.

“New Orleans just doesn’t like change. And it’s steeped in po’boy tradition,” Parasol’s new owner, John Hogan, 54, says. Since taking it over with his wife, a New Orleans native, he’s left the rickety look intact, continued to allow smoking, and he’s concocted his own roast-beef po’boy recipe, using an oven-roasted inside round and a gravy made from beef broth, drippings, flour, and spices. Despite that, “they’ve been calling me all kinds of things,” Mr. Hogan says — even spreading rumors that he plans to turn Parasol’s into a Big Easy-themed chain. He won’t say who “they” are — it’s that delicate.

It’s also affecting business. On a late February afternoon, at the height of the city’s carnival season, there were a number of empty bar stools at Parasol’s. “We’re just going to focus on the food, earn the neighborhood’s trust over time, while respecting the provenance of the Parasol’s name,” Mr. Hogan says.

Counters Jeff Carreras, the owner of Tracey’s, “I’m not bad-mouthing him. It is what it is. I’ve heard mixed reviews, good and bad, of the place.” Mr. Carreras, 40, carried over his award-winning roast-beef po’boy recipes to the new space, which is 8,000 square feet compared with the old 2,000, and he is taking out ads in local weeklies, even renting a billboard, to announce the new location and fill the (also sparsely occupied) seats.

So much commotion over so humble a dish. A po’boy (also “po-boy”) is a sandwich made with locally baked French bread loaves — crusty on the outside, cotton candy–fluffy on the inside. The loaf is sliced open and filled, traditionally, with batter-fried shrimp or oysters. Other popular versions are stuffed with andouille and spicy Italian sausage, soft-shell crab, and catfish. In recent years, the popularity of roast-beef po’boys (with Swiss cheese and beef gravy) has given shrimp and oyster a run.

The po’boy was named in 1929 by brothers Bennie and Clovis Martin, New Orleans bakers and former trolley conductors who fed drivers immersed in a historic streetcar strike free sandwiches filled with scraps. (These days, 6- to 8-inch-long “shorties” cost from $5 to $11, depending on fillings.) As a new worker approached the food line outside their French Market bakery and restaurant, the brothers, according to authenticated family letters, would shout to each other, “Here comes another poor boy.”

A food icon was born. It was perfected by the Martins and a baker named John Gendusa, whose family still sells the all-important loaves to many po’boy shops. “All about da bread,” you hear all over town. To most po’boy enthusiasts and shops (including, incidentally, Parasol’s and Tracey’s), the best loaves are made by the circa-1896 Leidenheimer Baking Co., which produces one million pounds of bread annually. Its delivery trucks, marked with its slogan, “Sink ya teeth into a piece of New Orleans cultcha,” are part of the city’s fabric.

In recent years, there have been mutterings that some of the po’boy temples have been resting on their laurels, using pre-sliced beef, powdered gravy mixes, and frozen shrimp. While New Orleans may not embrace change, that’s given some newcomers — self-described po’boy purists — an opening.

The city’s white-tablecloth chefs are dreaming up inventive takes on the sandwich, too, inspired largely by the New Orleans Po-Boy Preservation Festival — a four-year-old event that awards best-of accolades to po’boys at its annual bake-off on Oak Street. Fried green tomatoes are an accepted new stuffing. And gaining favor (and earning awards) are po’boys made with fried chicken livers and bacon (Mahony’s), roasted duck and cochon (Crabby Jack’s), and even fried lobster.

“It’s a ‘rich-boy,’ not a po’boy,” concedes Tenney Flynn, chef of the French Quarter seafood restaurant GW Fins, whose fried-Maine-lobster po’boy took “Best of Show” at last November’s festival.

Even New Orleans communities that own no share of the po’boy tradition have realized the dish’s versatility. Tony Tocco, owner of Uptown’s bayou-inspired Café Atchafalaya, says his favorite po’boy is actually Vietnamese, concocted at Tan Dinh in New Orleans’s Gretna suburb. “It’s made with baked pistolette bread,” says Mr. Tocco, “stuffed with charred pork, jalapeños, and Asian pickled vegetables, smeared with house-made pâté.”

Says Brett Anderson, the restaurant critic for New Orleans’s daily newspaper, the Times-Picayune: “I’m not a purist about them, save for the bread. But if you want to invent a delicious po’boy that doesn’t involve something ridiculous, I’ll try it. If it’s good enough, I’ll love it, without apology.”

We sampled versions at a dozen New Orleans–area po’boy shops, both iconic and new. None were bad and most were sloppy-delicious. But the eight spotlighted here rose to levels of savory greatness. Oh, and both Parasol’s and Tracey’s made the cut.

The Classic: Domilise’s Po-Boys

Devoted locals and savvy tourists vie for a four-top or bar stool in this wood-paneled Uptown corner legend, open for at least 100 years. We’re pleased to report it’s decidedly not laurel-resting. And at 88, nor is Dot Domilise, still helming the narrow kitchen. Take a ticket, get in line (there’s no table service), and ask for the sublime fried shrimp po’boy with Swiss cheese and beef gravy: a dark, resonant roux, as tasty on the shrimp as on the sausage. 5240 Annunciation St., 504-899-9126

The Game Keeper: Crabby Jack’s

When locals get “character” overload, they drive to an industrial section of Jefferson Parish to this yum-fest run by kitchen dervish Jacques Leonardi. It’s all about the cochon (pig), rabbit, and duck he brings with gusto to the po’boy plate. “Over-stuffed” is an understatement. The slow-roasted duck po’boy with gravy and jalapeños is love-me tender, sophisticatedly rich. A classic born. 428 Jefferson Highway, crabby-jacks.com

The Quarter Master: Johnny’s Po-Boys

This tiny cafeteria with checked tablecloths is, oddly, one of the few authentic po’boy haunts in the French Quarter. Variety rules: you can order the po’boys on a French loaf or a large bun, or as a triple-decker. Go for the surf-and-turf po’boy: hot roast beef and gravy topped with fried shrimp, lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise. 511 St. Louis St., johnnyspoboy.com

The Roadside Attraction: Sammy’s Food Service & Deli

Located in the Gentilly neighborhood, off the tour-bus maps, this local luncheon favorite is loved for its consistent blue-plate specials like fried pork chops and stuffed shrimp. Last year, the garlic-stuffed roast-beef po’boy — airy and juicy, with clove-crunching aroma, built on Leidenheimer bread (one of its trucks) — won the “Best Roast Beef” award at the Po-Boy Festival. Not bad for a family pit stop. 3000 Elysian Fields Ave., sammysfood.com

The Shining Pearl: Casamento’s Restaurant

Unconventional hours haven’t kept this 89-year-old oyster mecca from drawing lines outside its tiled quarters. Accolades and food shows have followed, mainly for its blissful po’boy hybrid: the fried oyster loaf. Made with thick-cut white Bunny Bread, it is packed four inches high with lightly corn-floured oysters simmered in lard in cast iron pots. 4330 Magazine St., casamentosrestaurant.com

The Claw Breaker: GW Fins

Budget-leaning po’boy purists will say this upscale seafood restaurant in the French Quarter has no place on the list. But last year, chef Tenney Flynn and his sous chef nabbed top honors at the New Orleans Po-Boy Preservation Festival with their fried-Maine-lobster po’boy. The buttery, battered chunks of lobster are served on an airy French loaf with remoulade and Creole mustard dippers, homemade slaw, and BBQ chips. 808 Bienville St., gwfins.com

The New-old Guard: Mahony’s Po-Boy Shop

The Times-Picayune restaurant critic Brett Anderson says it takes “more than five years, and maybe as long as 80,” for a po’boy shop to be “established.” Not anymore. This three-year-old po’boy outfit has been snatching laurels with its fresh ingredients and recipes (root beer-glazed ham and cheese, anyone?). Hope that chef-owner Ben Wick’s 86-year-old grandma, Judy Sekinger, serves your grilled-shrimp-and-fried-green-tomato po’boy. 3454 Magazine St., mahonyspoboys.com

The Torch Bearer: Parkway Bakery & Tavern

Owner Jay Nix managed to avoid the “newcomer” stigma when he re-opened this ’20s po’boy shop and bar in 2003. The building has since quadrupled in size — as have the lines. Parkway tops “best po’boy” lists annually and earned a visit last year from the Obamas. It wins our love with its fried shrimp po’boy and super-sloppy, “classic” roast beef, dressed to the nines. 538 Hagan Ave., parkwaypoorboys.com

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