Since I photograph at least 50% of what I cook and bake, just in
case I might someday wish to write about it and preserve an ephemeral
cupcake or casserole for posterity, my camera is always where I can
easily find it. Today, however, my camera was at a Minor League
baseball game with Sam, after a prolonged series of
“pleaspleasepleasei’llbe caaaaaaaaareful!” attacks wore me out. It
didn’t occur to me until after we had eaten what I considered to be an
interesting lunch that I could have photographed it using my phone – I
just scrapped the whole project when I remembered that my camera was on
walkabout among a herd of sugar-addled sixth graders.
I had made really good sandwiches based on things lying around the house: leftover whole grain buns, two different kinds of cheese with hot peppers, pulled pork with barbecue sauce, an abandoned avocado…stuff like that. Mr. Annie got two giant sandwiches piled high with pork, Cabot Habanero Cheddar and avocado, and I made myself a more modest vegetarian model with no pork and a healthy pile of spicy alfalfa sprouts. Alas, these gems of thrifty husbandry were doomed to slip away (literally and figuratively), unmarked.
Ask any New Orleanian where to get the best po-boy in the city and
almost every single one will tell you to go to a different place.
Po-Boy restaurants are as much a part of personal identity as the
neighborhood you grew up in – like a family heirloom, po-boy preference
is often handed down from generation to generation. And while die-hard
patrons of Parasol's refuse that anywhere else makes as good of a roast
beef po-boy, those who are loyal to Mother's will tell you that their
roast beef debris simply can't be beat. And who could forget Ye Olde
College Inn – a New Orleans staple.
