Urban Thought Collective

Check out part one here.

Now that you’re good and hungry from playing tourist, let’s get down to the very serious business of food. To say that both the creation and consumption of food are important in the Crescent City is an understatement of enormous proportions. And speaking of proportions, the amount of food served to you will more often than not be way out of whack with what you paid, but in your favor for a change. One of the biggest challenges for me was to figure out how I was going to get to all of the spots in so little time. Not only are there too many “to-die-for” dining experiences in this town, but being limited by the size of my appetite each day added an extra degree of difficulty. For the sake of order, I’ll start with breakfast.

I knew that Mother’s Restaurant, on the corner of Poydras and Tchoupitoulas Streets, was a winner when I saw “debris” on the menu. Well, actually, the long line out front gave me a pretty good indication too, but lots of other breakfast spots with limited seating have this problem. But debris? In my experience, using something that doesn’t sound at all appetizing to describe what you are serving has usually meant you’ll be sorry—if you DON’T try it. (See Garbage Burger at any Max and Erma’s location throughout the Midwest). But debris seems even more disturbing, like setting a pie on the window sill while the guy with the leaf blower passes in front of your house. As it turns out, debris is actually the juice and, um, particles of meat left in the pan after they cook a roast. Mother’s slops this over grits or huge buttermilk biscuits creating a heavenly, down home delight that you would only expect from a place named after somebody’s mama. I would suggest eating here after you have just finished your early morning workout on the treadmill, after only having had a small salad the previous evening. Oh, and go at 7am if you expect to eat again around lunch.

There are two places that I always recommend that food lovers go (Mother’s will probably make me expand my list to at least 3) when in the Big Easy. The first is Mr. B’s Bistro on Royal and Iberville Streets in the French Quarter. I was turned on to this place a number of years ago by a friend and in my opinion, it stands up against any place you’ll ever dine. Not only is the food absolutely divine, but observing the staff here gives you an idea of the “serious business” that I alluded to earlier. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that there were little 4th and 5th grade boys and girls all over Southern Louisiana that were proudly reading their “I wanna be a Chef” themes in front of the class, with chests poked out even further than the kids claiming to want to be doctors, lawyers, or NFL quarterbacks. Never will you go to a place where kitchen staff, servers, and bus boys wear their uniforms like there are medals of honor hanging from them. It is as if they too realize how earth-shattering an experience they are providing for all patrons that dine in their establishments. I was almost moved to get my cloth napkin autographed. But back to the food. Mr. B’s does everything well from the gumbo to the jambalaya, the etoufees to the red beans, and the veal chop with crab meat to the shrimp and grits. But I implore you to partake of the barbequed shrimp. Even though wearing a white shirt, I wasn’t at all nervous when the waiter came up behind me to fasten the large bib around my neck. Oh yes, the barbequed shrimp is one of those messy meals, but after one whiff of the aroma, and one drop of the sweet, spicy, saucy elixir on your tongue you won’t care if you leave there with spots all over you. Look around at the adjacent tables and you’ll notice that you’re not the only one with the contented smile brimming from ear to ear.

The other spot that I send people to is Port of Call. It is the anti-epicurean, hole-in-the-wall that is everything that Mr. B’s is not. It’s on a pretty sketchy street, it’s dark, crowded and much too small. It looks like the kind of place where you’d expect Captain Jack Sparrow to saddle up next to you and down some grog. You’ll need that grog (might I suggest the Port of Call or Goombay punch in the 32oz. souvenir cup) to both wash down and put your mind at ease to make your way through that ½ pound burger, ground fresh daily, and fully dressed baked potato that comes with. I’ve had a lot of burgers in a lot of places and this one stands up to any of them.

Stay tuned for the finale of my New Orleans trip next week…

Destah Owens is a single father of two from Northern California and proud UCLA Bruin who travels the world for his job as a computer engineer. His blog, “Soufflés in Saigon,” is exclusive to Urban Thought Collective.