For Lunch Today...

Ever notice how there are certain things about New Orleans that you swear you will not do? Like going to the Quarter during Mardi Gras, standing in line at Mother's, or taking the streetcar. Then you find yourself doing those things and realizing, "Hey, this is not to bad; I should not be such a jerk."

Port o Call to me is one of those places that almost seems cliche. 50's style cocktails with enough booze to woo a stewardess from a Pan-Am flight, big hamburgers, and loaded baked potatoes. There is always a line and sometimes it just does not seem worth the hassle.

Until you unlock your jaw to get your mouth around the beef behemoth. The shredded cheese, parts of it melted other parts still cold, huge slice of onion, lettuce, mayo mustard, and ketchup begin falling off the burger like the leaves of autumn. That is a burger.

An aside here. People often complain that the cheese is not melted, which is a valid complaint. However, when you grill a burger in the backyard. And that baby is ready to be eating, you have quaffed about 4 or 5 of Le Bucket's micro-Microbrews, and the sun is on your back; well sometimes you just cant wait for things like cheese to melt.

My favorite part of the Port o Call experience is the detritus on your plate after you have destroyed that burger. Combining all of that (bits of bread, mustard soaked cheese, etc...) with the baked potato to me is reason to keep on, keeping on.

The boozy Monsoons aint to bad either. It may seem like a cliche, but Port o Call is as good as it has always been. And that is saying something.