Mahony's Po-Boy Shop

Mahony’s fits the bill of a traditional New Orleans neighborhood po-boy shop. Besides the sign out front, they set up shop in a nondescript, converted Uptown shotgun. Since we live only two blocks away, the neighborhood feel of this Magazine Street restaurant is utterly unmistakable. We’ve been here a few times for some of their New Orleans’ classics, like an overstuffed fried shrimp po-boy. But the owner, Ben Wicks, utilizes his culinary talent learned at Rio Mar to create some specialty sandwiches that are both adventurous and delicious. Since it is practically in our backyard, we’ve even ventured out into his more inventive sandwiches on the menu, like the grilled shrimp/fried green tomato po-boy and the peacemaker (fried oysters, bacon, and cheese).

These signature po-boys are what have won this restaurant awards at the annual New Orleans Po-Boy Preservation Festival. Chef Wicks po-boy prowess has even garnered the attention a few celebrity chefs.

Unfortunately, one of the downfalls, for me at least, of gaining local and national attention is gaining an enormous following. Trying to get inside on a Saturday is like trying to get into a porta-john at Jazz Fest. We knew this already, so we slipped in on a humid Friday night. No huge crowds. Not even a line at the order counter. We quickly placed our order, grabbed a NOLA Hurricane Saison and waited for the forthcoming deliciousness at one of the tables in the half-full dining room. We waited, and waited, and then waited some more. The kitchen is the size of a small bedroom, and getting a seat in the dining room on most days is like playing musical chairs with Bill Goldberg, so I usually anticipate a lag between ordering and eating. But seriously, this was a slow Friday night. After looking around at all the miserable looking diners inside, we weren’t the only ones getting anxious; each time the saloon doors to the kitchen opened up, every head in the restaurant whipped around to see if their mound of butcher-paper-wrapped po-boys were on the brown plastic serving trays. The party next to us had never been here before and wasn’t prepared for the wait. After just 15 minutes, they asked the bartender how much longer it would be. She explained that all po-boys were fresh and made to order. True, but I’ve been in and out of Freret Street Po-Boy in 10 minutes, and they don’t even mix the batter for the shrimp until I order.

After 45 minutes, we finally heard our name called. Ah, there was hope. Regrettably, it was only our large order of fries (seriously, don’t be a hero, one order can feed 3 or 4 grown men). These hot, crisp, hand-cut fries appeased our appetite, but served as a mere teaser. Finally, after nearly an hour, our name was called again. Thank the Lawd. I almost had to break out into a Southern Baptist hymnal. With thick, spicy brown gravy bleeding through the chewy Leidenheimer bread and white butcher paper, you could already tell that Erin ordered the super sloppy roast beef before she even unwrapped it. Even though she proclaimed that it was a little to fatty for her, I like my slow cooked roast to have some of that melt-in-your-mouth fat intermingling with the tender beef. Wait, what the hell am I doing? I’m hungry, and I’m now wasting time analyzing a roast beef while ignoring my own po-boy sitting right in front of me. I hastily unwrapped my sandwich- a chicken liver and Creole cole slaw po-boy.

The crunchy Creole slaw, made with Creole mustard, provided a textural contrast to that characteristic organ meat texture of the golden-brown livers. The tanginess of the slaw also provided some flavor contrast by cutting through the minerally quality of the chicken livers. It’s the quality of sandwiches like this one that cause me to continually ignore the long lines and even lengthier wait here. Still, it perplexes me to have high quality po-boys right here in my backyard piss me off and soothe my sandwich soul at the same time.

Dong Phuong

Dong Phuong. Uttering those words a decade month ago would have conjured up images of a crime fighting canine janitor.

Today, it conjures up something even better. The lockout is over and the dreaded Vietnamese bug has bitten me. Unlike the swarming mosquitoes of summer, there isn’t a readily available repellant. Even though we just checked out the newer Pho Orchid in its unnatural suburban setting Saturday in Metairie, my craving for Vietnamese struck again. The bun salad and spring roll fix had already been satisfied by Pho Orchid’s lemongrass beef, and I had to run to Lake Catherine for work. Almost instantly, I knew exactly who was going to feed me for lunch- the little old ladies behind the banh mi (Vietnamese po-boy) counter at Dung Phuong Bakery.

Even though I had been down this stretch of Chef Menteur Highway from Paris Road to U.S. Highway 11 numerous times, I became somewhat intimidated as I drove past deserted theme parks and Vietnamese signage. While pulling into the parking lot, I began to wonder why restaurants, including Green Goddess, source their bread from this unassuming building. I was about as confused as Hank when he first met Kahn, but trust me, the lunch from this Laotian neighbor is worth it. Once inside, I quickly realized that one slight whiff of the fresh mounds of French bread wafting up from the red box at the front of the store is enough to hook anyone (that’s actually probably the smell of the lard they baste the top of the loaves with). Knowing I would want more bread within the next 2 hours, I grabbed 3 loaves. Why 3? Because they’re 3 for $1.25.

After bagging up my bread in plastic grocery sacks, I immediately dashed to the back counter where two old Vietnamese ladies were stationed. No, not for a massage, but for the best banh mi in the metro area. Ordering was simple- I just picked a number between 1 and 17 (the number of protein choices). I decided on #7. One of the ladies slapped some pate on their fresh bread and then passed it off to the next lady. Once she slathered my bread with an obscene amount of the yellow-tinted, house-made mayonnaise, and loaded up my sandwich with a large crunchy cucumber spear, a few jalapenos, a handful of cilantro, and a heap of crisp pickled daikon and carrot, my liver pate banh mi was complete.

My lunch, however, was not. I’ve made the mistake of only getting one sandwich before and by 3:30, I was hungry enough to eat a whole box of Asian trix. I’ve also gotten two sandwiches and by the time I finished the second one, I was on the verge of exploding. I scoured the store’s assorted pastries and eccentric Asian desserts, but didn’t find anything that would appease my Vietnamese fix. I reluctantly decided to go ahead and check out. Right before she rang up my total for the loaves and banh mi, I noticed a few cases abutting the counter. The assorted meat pies and turnovers that filled the heat-lamp-lit cases caught my eye just in time. Filled with savory meats and a hardboiled egg, one of these flaky pastries would complete my lunch.

With lunch finalized, and enough bread for 3 more large sandwiches, I paid the cashier my $4.28 (remember, that’s for 3 loaves, a banh mi, and a meat pie). Besides the attached restaurant, there weren’t any tables or chairs on the premises to enjoy the fruits of the bakery. Luckily, Bayou Sauvage National Wildlife Refuge has a few picturesque pavilions and picnic tables within a 2 minute drive of this truly amazing Vietnamese bakery.

Boo Koo BBQ, Old New Orleans RUMble, and Taceuax Loceaux

The blog has now stuck around for a year, so it’s unquestionably time to get back to the basics. This weekend provided the delicious food and strong drinks to get the blog back on track after a the last few recipes we’ve posted. Equipped with a Groupon and big appetites, we started our night at Finn McCool’s.

Yeah, they pour a good pint of Guinness, but beer was going to play second fiddle to the food being cooked up in the back of this neighborhood Irish pub. Hungry, we had already studied the Boo Koo BBQ menu like Japanese goalies study our penalty kicks, so we knew what we wanted as soon as we walked up to the half door behind the pool tables.

Half a beer and less than half an hour later, we were bombarded by ridiculousness. First up, deep-fried truffled mac and cheese bites with a southern-style comeback sauce- crunchy on the outside with a gooey, cheesey center. Awesome! My only complaint was that only two come to an order. At least we left plenty of room for our mains. Erin, tempted by nachos as usual, got “Da Muthaload Nachos”- a pile of tortilla chips piled even higher with pulled pork, brisket, smoked chicken, and boudin. I decided on the Cajun Banh Mi. This Vietnamese style po-boy, filled with pulled pork, boudin, and hogs head cheese was topped with the usual banh mi toppings (mayo, cucumber, and pickled carrots and daikon).

Wow! Smoky, crunchy, fresh, and creamy all at the same time. The best of Erath and New Orleans East all in the same French roll. And don’t forget, all this grub is coming out of the back of an Irish pub.

As if mounds of smoked meats and deep fried cholesterol weren’t enough, we had already committed to our night’s dessert weeks ago. As we pulled into a sketchy warehouse next to a deserted concrete plant near Elysian Fields, I began to think this event was some type of human trafficking scam. Enticing visitors with an open bar and unlimited desserts, they’d lure us in and then we’d find ourselves bound in the back of a concrete mixer headed for Burma. Scary, but very untrue, that is the trafficking part. As we made our way into the Old New Orleans Rum distillery for their Cocktails and Desserts Summer RUMble, we were immediately met with a stiff, but refreshing, drink from the Bombay Club booth, which was set up in front of a set of the many barrels throughout the warehouse.

After sweating off my first drink in the sultry tin building, we grabbed a frozen drink from the Organic Banana booth and a bowl of rum raisin ice cream from New Orleans Ice Cream to cool ourselves off. As one of the servers floated extra Cajun Spiced Rum over the top of the ice cream, I silently started singing "Yo ho". After “tasting” a few more strong drinks from Juan’s Flying Burrito, and taking a whiff of the random liquids placed throughout the working distillery, the lyrics were on the verge of actually spewing out of my mouth.

Since our time at the open bar was dwindling down, and I was now longing to wear an eye patch, we decided we’d grab more dessert(s) before heading out. While waiting in the dessert line, we inhaled a few doughy rum balls from Bob’s Delectables before getting to the best dessert at this rum-centered event- blueberry mojito cupcakes from Bee Sweet Cupcakes (participants on Food Network’s Cupcake Wars). Cue the chubby cupcake song.

As a last hoorah, and before the Uzbekistan-mail-order-bride/late-2000’s-lesbian-Russian-pop duo DJ scared us off, Erin managed to sneak in a “to-go” rum drink with watermelon from Phoenix.

We thought we were homeward bound like Chance and Sassy, but a tweet from a new food truck (Geaux Plates) rerouted us to Kingpin. We really didn’t need any more food but decided to at least check out the menu. Not entirely impressed, we decided to forgo the mobile offerings and ran into Kingpin (the bar, not the movie) for our nightcap. Once I figured out that I was actually in a bar and not some smoky basement that had been cheaply decorated with cheetah print wallpaper and hubcaps, we were able to enjoy a few pints of NOLA Hurricane Saison while watching a few drunk rednecks (I’m allowed to insult my own kind) play shuffle board with their iPhones.

Drunk gorging (you know, eating a family size bag of Hot Cheetos) and social-media-driven-food-trucks struck once gain. This time it was Taceaux Loceaux and their bulgogi chicken tacos outside Dos Jefes Cigar Bar.


Assembled within the confines of a snatcher van, the Korean-marinated chicken tacos with cabbage, Sriracha aioli, and pickled red onions lucratively ended our Incredible Journey and made it impossible to fit through our door once we finally made it home.

Beer-braised smoked sausage, grilled corn relish, Tobasco gastrique

(Don’t forget to check out the Summer Specials page.)

Still trying to recover from the worst awards show since the Vicksburg High School graduation on TV23, my remote control usage was out of control last night. I flipped past the Travel Channel and see Adam Richman eating a hot dog topped with cole slaw, barbeque sauce, and pickled okra. Somehow, a grown, sweaty man eating a 3 pound hot dog and the sound of Gord Brody banging on a keyborad inspired me to raid the leftovers in the fridge. I ended up with most of the elements of the standard hot dog, well, except for the buns.

BEER-BRAISED SMOKED SAUSAGE WITH GRILLED CORN RELISH, CREOLE MUSTARD CREAM, AND TOBASCO GASTRIQUE

2 links, smoked sausage
½ bottle of beer
1 clove garlic
grilled corn relish, recipe follows
Creole mustard cream, recipe follows
Tobasco gastrique, recipe follows
cheese grits
(Yield: 2 servings)

1. Place sausage in a skillet set over medium-high and brown all sides.
2. Add beer and garlic to pan, and bring to a boil.
3. Reduce heat to simmer, cover, and braise sausage until cooked through, about 5 minutes per side.
4. Serve sausage, grilled corn relish, and Creole mustard cream over Tobasco gastrique and cheese grits.

Grilled corn relish
1 ear corn
2 Tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon cumin
1 teaspoon pepper
1 teaspoon Creole seasoning
¼ small red onion, diced
¼ green bell pepper, diced
2 Tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
1 jalapeno, seeded and minced
1/4 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon apple cider vinegar

1. Preheat grill to medium-high.
2. Brush the corn with 1 tablespoon of olive oil and season with the cumin, Creole seasoning, and pepper to taste. Grill until golden and toasted on all sides, 5 to 8 minutes, turning as needed.
3. Combine the remaining 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil, bell pepper, onion, parsley, jalapeno, sugar, and vinegar and season with salt and pepper.
4. Slice the corn kernels off the cob and toss with the relish. Cover and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Creole Mustard Cream
1 Tablespoon Creole mustard
1 Tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 Tablespoon sour cream

1. Combine all ingredients and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Tobasco Gastrique
¼ cup Tobasco hot sauce
¼ granulated sugar
1 Tablespoon apple cider vinegar

1. Combine Tobasco, sugar, and vinegar in a saucepan.
2. Stirring occasionally, reduce over medium heat until the sauce has thickened enough to coat the back of a spoon, approximately 8-10 minutes.