22 / 60
20
MY
ROUSES
EVERYDAY
JULY | AUGUST 2017
the
Burger
issue
I
n the po-boy world, the options seem
to go on forever. And though I’ve been
known to obsess over a crispy oyster po-
boy or dive headfirst into a gravy-soaked roast
beef po-boy, I’ve always had a deep affection
for another branch of the sandwich’s family
tree — the hamburger po-boy.
These meaty, pan-fried classics tend to get a
lot more love from locals who grew up inside
po-boy culture than visitors digging into their
first “Peacemaker.” They’re often sentimental
favorites, delicious memory triggers wrapped
in wax paper — lunchtime reminders of the
past, with a bag of Zapp’s on the side.
Crossover Classics
The hamburger po-boy is a straight-ahead
crossover classic. If a restaurant has a griddle
and some good ground beef, it’s got two
distinct menu items catering to different-sized
appetites. The iconic po-boy bread — shatter-
crisp on the outside with a whisper-light
interior, makes for a bite-to-bite contrast that’s
different from a pillow-soft hamburger bun.
As a kid, this sandwich was my gateway into
the Wonderful World of Po-boys. Growing
up in New Iberia in the 1970s, there
weren’t many restaurant options beyond
neighborhood burger joints and a few boiling
points that ramped up when the springtime
crawfish started hitting the tables.
Joe’s Drive-In was a few blocks from our
house with a flashing arrow sign, oyster-
shell parking lot and a dozen tables inside
a low-slung brick dining room. The menu
was the usual South Louisiana selection of
burger variations, fried seafood and a daily
plate lunch featured on the sign outside.
Our family would visit Joe’s once in a
great
while for celebrations, always ordering as a
big family with decidedly limited options.
(“Choose cheese or no cheese. There are
four of you, so you can split two orders of
fries. Small sodas.”)
Still, any meal out was a special occasion,
and the 8-year-old me fantasized about the
wonders of the
rest
of themenu.(“Ahamburger
steak
sounds fancy.What’s on a catfish plate?”)
Sometime during early grade school, I swore
that when I had my own money to spend, I’d
get to make my own choices at Joe’s.
A few years later, I walked through the
dining room doors, my pockets burning
with my first paper-route payday and
my mind reeling with the full menu of
possibilities. Flush with cash at age 11, I’d
explore the menu one paycheck at a time.
After searching the list, I settled on the old
and new: hamburger po-boy (dressed, no
mayo, no tomato, add mustard), fries and
onion rings. I could have started with a
standard burger “all to myself,” but decided
to level up, realizing that a po-boy was two
tasty burgers disguised as a single item.
A few bites in, I started to understand the
magic of the burger in po-boy form — a
distinct texture that serves a kid’s sense of
plenty and decadence. (Once you finish one
delicious burger, you’ve got
another
wrapped
up and ready to go.)
Forme,thememory of a first “grown-up”meal,
paid for with my first work money, makes the
hamburger po-boy special and worth ordering
every once in awhile, just for nostalgia’s sake.
If po-boys are available at a burger joint,
I’ll give them a try. The folks at Parkway
between
the
Bread
words & photo by
Pableaux Johnson