Mother's Restaurant
401 Poydras at Tchoupatoulas
New Orleans, LA 70130
August 5, 2010
Ordering food in New Orleans is generally an occasion for sin. Fried, gravied, sauced, stuffed - the items on the menus all over town would make the AMA shudder. My theory is that the ninety-degree temperatures here in August will burn those calories off so fast that they'll sweep my arteries clean within hours.
Any city in which one of the most popular sandwiches is nicknamed “ the debris po’ boy” is aiming straight at your stomach, bypassing any consideration to your heart valves and other inconsequential matters pertaining to your longevity. Mother’s Restaurant, which I’ve posted about earlier this year, is the home of this iconic sandwich.
Chomping into the Famous Ferdi Special ( the "debris po' boy” named after the customer who first asked for his sandwich to include all the bits of roast beef left in the pan after it had been all carved up) served at Mother’s Restaurant on Poydras Street is one of the rites of passage in New Orleans. I am not depriving myself of this experience today.
Wading through the line, I take the plunge, order the 2/3 size, and sit down at a table in anticipation. Another great thing about New Orleans is that is it always time to eat. As I wait, lines of patrons keep snaking through the door at 3:45 pm, not exactly lunch or dinner time.
A few minutes later, here comes Ferdi. Stuffed between two halves of famous New Orleans po’ boy bread is a small mountain of melt in your mouth shredded baked ham and roast beef under which lies a bed of shredded cabbage, sliced pickles, and I’m certain there must be a slathering of mayonnaise in there somewhere.
Aside from a muffuletta, there is no sandwich in New Orleans that doesn’t require a pile of paper napkins to staunch the fillings from draining all the way down to your elbows. The pool of gravy has soaked into the bread. I grab half the Ferdi with both hands and feel pieces of debris begin to fall between my fingers. No matter.
The smoky, tender ham and roast beef are playing the melody, the crunchy pickles and cabbage are playing a counterpoint and the gravy and mayo are the crowd sopping it all up. And for the second time in my life, I’ve reached for the LSU Hot Sauce and bravely popped a few drops into the whole shebang.
God bless Ferdi.
401 Poydras at Tchoupatoulas
New Orleans, LA 70130
August 5, 2010
Ordering food in New Orleans is generally an occasion for sin. Fried, gravied, sauced, stuffed - the items on the menus all over town would make the AMA shudder. My theory is that the ninety-degree temperatures here in August will burn those calories off so fast that they'll sweep my arteries clean within hours.
Any city in which one of the most popular sandwiches is nicknamed “ the debris po’ boy” is aiming straight at your stomach, bypassing any consideration to your heart valves and other inconsequential matters pertaining to your longevity. Mother’s Restaurant, which I’ve posted about earlier this year, is the home of this iconic sandwich.
Chomping into the Famous Ferdi Special ( the "debris po' boy” named after the customer who first asked for his sandwich to include all the bits of roast beef left in the pan after it had been all carved up) served at Mother’s Restaurant on Poydras Street is one of the rites of passage in New Orleans. I am not depriving myself of this experience today.
Wading through the line, I take the plunge, order the 2/3 size, and sit down at a table in anticipation. Another great thing about New Orleans is that is it always time to eat. As I wait, lines of patrons keep snaking through the door at 3:45 pm, not exactly lunch or dinner time.
Aside from a muffuletta, there is no sandwich in New Orleans that doesn’t require a pile of paper napkins to staunch the fillings from draining all the way down to your elbows. The pool of gravy has soaked into the bread. I grab half the Ferdi with both hands and feel pieces of debris begin to fall between my fingers. No matter.
The smoky, tender ham and roast beef are playing the melody, the crunchy pickles and cabbage are playing a counterpoint and the gravy and mayo are the crowd sopping it all up. And for the second time in my life, I’ve reached for the LSU Hot Sauce and bravely popped a few drops into the whole shebang.
God bless Ferdi.
On the corner of Poydras and Tchoupatoulas Streets
there was a short line when I arrived at 3:30 for lunch...
that wrapped to the back room 15 minutes later. Any time is a good time to eat at Mother's.
Photos by Paul A. Tamburello, Jr.
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