Domilise's: Is It Worth It?

The Manning brothers are huge fans of Domilise's, but don't hold that against the bar on the corner of Annunciation and Bellecastle. And make no mistake, Domilise's is a bar. A wood paneled, acoustic tile ceilinged corner bar with a cast of characters and photographs of famous people you have never heard of lining the wall. Although this bar serves cold beer and a mixed drink or two, the main item the bartenders serve are po-boys.

Clockwise from left, roast beef, fried shrimp, hot smoked sausage from Domilise's.

Walk into Domilise's and grab a numba (spelling correct). Soon a bartender will call your numba and you will spit out your order with a rapid fire intensity not seen since Fifty Cent night at the Boot. We chose three: roast beef, hot smoked sausage, and fried shrimp. All dressed for success. After enough time to finish one draft beer, the po-boys are ready.

The workmanlike roast beef is sliced rather thickly with a heavy, sticky gravy. The hot smoked sausage quickly becomes a mess with Creole mustard obfuscating the deliciousness of pork sausage. If you are a patty hot sausage fan, this po-boy will be unrecognizable in taste and texture. Feel free to skip both of these sandwiches.

Skip them because the fried shrimp po-boy at Domilise's is a thing of beauty. In fact, thus far on this yearly challenge, this dish held the greatest surprise. Some shrimp po-boys are so overstuffed you end up as Lindsay says, "Just eating the shrimp and leaving the bread." The ratio of shrimp to bread is just right at Domilise's, allowing you to enjoy a po-boy in its natural state. The shrimp are on the small size, but are well fried in a crispy coating. The shrimp carry with them their inherent briny, sweetness as well as that concoction of ketchup and hot sauce. (Ed. note: Ketchup and hot sauce is the not so secret best sauce for onion rings). This is a damn fine po-boy.

Domilese's gets a bad rap. People from outside the Isle of Denial claim it is overpriced and terrible. Shoot, half the people from the Isle of Denial claim the old New Orleans standby, "Is not what it used to be." But throw all that conventional wisdom away, sidle up to this bar, and chug a couple po-boys.

Domilese's: Is It Worth It? Surprisingly, yes.
5240 Annunciation St.
899-9126

We Live To Eat Friday: Part II

The entries keep rolling in, so send yours along. This week we get a bite at Crabby Jack's, a one two combo of Cochon and Boucherie, and this weird, cryptic day. Vote away, pals. And hey, if you are in a voting mood, how 'bout voting us the #1 Blog in New Orleans?

The Turpenator

My ideal feasting day in New Orleans:
Breakfast - Manhattan Omelet at Camellia Grill (a/k/a the "Crack Omelet").

Lunch - Po-boys at Crabby Jack's.

Snack/Cocktail: Beers at Avenue Pub along with guacamole and chips from the restaurant within it, J'anita's.

Dinner: Any of the shredded meat delights at Cochon.

Brother O'Mara

I'd head out as early as possible to Huveos on Banks to get myself a plate of their huevos con tamal. Nothing beats pork tamales and eggs for breakfast, and their coffee's decent. However, even though they have a few sweets in the case there I'd have to go over to Angelo Brocato on Carrollton to get something truly tasty. No gelato, still too early in the morning, but something from their pastry case (like a prussian, mmmmm) and some espresso to wash it down would be fantastic.

For lunch, as soon as I would be able to eat again that is, I'd head down to Domilise's on Annunciation. There's a lot to be said in the debate about the best fried shrimp po-boy, but for my money nobody does it better than they. Obviously I'd have to have a Barq's to go along with it, because I think God cries if you eat a fried shrimp po-boy without drinking a Barq's.

After all this I think I'd have to go lie down for a while, but I would make certain to get up in time to make it over to Cure by 5PM, right as they opened. If I have time before my dinner reservations, I'd order a Ramos Gin Fizz, something soft to sit and sip for a minute. If things are rushed, I'd grab a Nervous Light of Sunday, the perfect palate-opening drink, a delightful combination of gin, grapefruit, and magic.

Dinner would have to be at Cochon, because their ham hock haunts my dreams. I find it almost impossible to visit and not order that incredible mass of soft succulent pigflesh. It doesn't appear on the table instantly, though, so the boucherie plate would have to hold me over until that ham hock graces me with its presence. The flavors are rich and slightly smoky and wonderfully complex, so depending on my mood I'd either get something from the southern Rhone or some fuller-bodied Pinot Noir to accompany it.

As if I hadn't put enough miles on my car already, I'd head out for a late-night dessert at Boucherie just off Carrollton. I know Cochon has some killer desserts but one thing they don't have is Krispy Kreme bread pudding, and that's what I'd be craving. I'd have to drive slowly, though, to make sure my stomach had time to deal with all that dinner.

To finalize the night I would honestly head home and pour a shot or two of Amaro on ice and sit and sip that while I waited for my body to stop hating me for all the abuse.

And Finally, a Rambling Entry from McLovin

5am snack: F&M's - The cheese fries and enough booze to kill a horse.

7am: Slim Goodies - I forget what it's called, but it's something like the Mexican Slammer.

Lunch: Radosta's - I usually get their catfish poboy.

Dinner: Crepe Nanou (if I'm paying) / Clancy's (if someone else is) - Crepe Nanou: mussels and/or the spinach and crabmeat crepe (i think those are the two most cliche things on the menu). I haven't been to Clancy's since before my brother-in-law became a part of the family so I'm not sure what I'd get. LOL...haha.

PS - My mom thought she was so cool that you wrote about Meauxbar and she saw you there!

PPS - I get free drinks at a bar up at school because the bartender actually thinks I'm McLovin... haha.

EDIT: Blogger Polls are down and working about as well as government. So for now, just leave your vote in the comments or come back later.

My Walk With Bourdain

“You at the Rio Mar party? Is that tonight? Bourdain is there.”

Rewind: Thursday night Rio Mar had a “kegger, Basque-style” where Chef Adolfo tapped a cask of txakoli and planned on pouring the whole thing. I made reservations to go with a large group, but they all backed out and so I canceled too. Instead, I wound up with Triple B and two others at Sukho Thai, where I received the above text message from Rene.

Upon reading this message, I immediately called for the check and headed for Rio Mar. Triple B decided to tag along too. When we arrived, there were far fewer people than I expected, and the cask of txakoli was long gone. “Is Bourdain here?” I asked. “Yep. He’s in the main dining room,” replied a waiter. “Really cool guy. Go get a picture.”

I waited next to the greeting stand while Triple B powdered her nose in anticipation of her glamour shot, but next thing you know Anthony was strolling past me on his way out. I stopped him, said hello, and asked for a picture, to which he graciously obliged. Triple B was right behind me and snapped one of her own.

So now what? We walked outside to contemplate our next move, and Anthony said goodbye to his companions and made his way down Julia toward the river. “We should have asked him if he wanted to get a drink,” I said. On our walk back to the car, we noticed Anthony standing on the corner waiting for a cab. This was one of those moments. I wish I could say that I played it cool instead of acting like a 1980s Aerosmith groupie reincarnate, but we were basically stumbling over ourselves to catch him before he left. I sent Triple B in first because as a member of the light-haired female tribe, she is much more convincing than I.

“Do you want to go get a drink with us?” she asked.

“No, I am exhausted,” Anthony smilingly replied. “I’ve been on this corner for 5 minutes and already 3 people have stopped and said, ‘Hey, you gotta go to this bar.’ Plus I have a flight to Prague in the morning.... How do you catch a cab around here? When the light is on, that means there is already somebody in there?”

“Yeah. I’ll call you a cab,” I offered.

“I’m staying at the W next to the casino,” he said, " but I have no idea where I am."

“Well, that’s right there,” I pointed. “We’ll walk you over.”

So we walked. And talked. Anthony told us that he was in town to meet with writers for “the coolest f*cking thing on television,” but he was tight-lipped on the details. We told him how great it was for him to film an episode here back in 2007. I asked him what he thought about the food at Domilise's, to which he responded, “You know, you can probably get a better tasting po-boy elsewhere, but that place has history. It's been open for a long time, and it was perfect for our show. It’s the neighborhood and the people which makes that place great.”

He asked if I had ever been to Prague, and I told him yes. “How’s the food?” he asked. “Eh,” was my reply. “That’s what everyone else has told me,” he said. We talked about his daughter and how she loved olives and sardines and everything salty, and how when he gets back to New York his wife is going to handover the reigns for a while because she has been on solo duty for long enough.

But mostly we talked about New Orleans and what a special place it is. He asked if we had grown up here and told us how great it was that we stayed. “Every time I come here, it’s like a big hug,” he said. "The chef and cooking culture here… it’s like coming home. Nowhere else in the world is like it. I just feel this warm embrace whenever I am here.” Triple B and I told him why we thought NOLA is such a special place, but I’m embarrassed to say that Anthony probably said it best: “People come to New Orleans, and they either get it right away or they don’t. They either say, ‘OK, this is why this is an amazing place.’ Or they just never will.” I offered to take him to the Westbank for Vietnamese for lunch, but I’ll have to wait for another time. “In a perfect world, I would stay here for a week and eat at all of these places that everyone keeps telling me about. It would be two o’clock in the morning, and I’d be scarfing down Verti Marte.”

I wish that I could tell you that this story ended with Anthony, Triple B, and I downing Flaming Dr. Peppers at the Goldmine followed by a 4:00am feast on an All That Jazz. But I cannot tell a lie. When we got to the W, Triple B and I offered to buy Anthony a scotch, but he politely declined and thanked us for our hospitality. And then he was gone.

I’ve met Paul Bocuse. I’ve eaten at The French Laundry. Maybe I’ll make it to the Fat Duck one day. But my walk with Anthony was pretty special. I doubt it was as good for him as it was for me, but that’s not the point. And if you don’t get why, then you never will.

Please note that the camera adds 20 pounds (but apparently not for professionals like Anthony).

Ode to Lost Sandwiches

The following list includes sandwiches dat ain't dere no more or ain't good no more:

1. Ruth's on Broad Street - Steak Po-Boy: Garlic bread, slathered in bearnaise, layered with sliced filet mignon, and topped with a few onion rings. Came with a side of shoestring fries for like $18. The devilish delight of eating a sandwich in a place so clubby, elegant, and borderline important elevated this sandwich to the realm of decadence. We can't talk about it anymore though, because we start to get teary eyed.
2. Parasol's - Roast Beef: Wow. Did we just say that? Yes. Here is why. On a recent visit $9 got me a barely 6 inch po-b0y dressed. Either I am getting bigger or those po-boys shrink every time I go there, both are strong possibilities. Look at the name of the sandwich again; its po-boy not rich-boy. A recent meal there caused Rene's arteries to swell up and his tongue to lose its ability to taste anything. The deer Rene had lunch with explained it best saying, "too f&cking salty." Maybe it is good on St. Patrick's Day, but what isn't?
3. Domilise's -The Whole Damn Menu: Again the prices are way to high for a po-boy. If you are going to stand in line for 2 hours, then the po-boy should be amazing. Everything at Domilise's is "just OK" except the roast beef which is not OK. We realize this is a neighborhood place, a place "you have to now what to get," a place where they "have to know who you are," and a place that people not from the Sliver by the River don't understand. And guess what, we are ok with that. All we are saying is if the Manning brother's had been fans of Parkway or Liuzza's, they are looking at a decade of Super Bowl rings instead of just two.
4. Jesuit High School - Chicken Sandwiches: On 10 minute break, a buck-fifty got you a plate of fries, a bag of milk, and a sometimes juicy, sometimes dry fried chicken sandwich. Sure, it's still there, but we arent.
5. Dino's Pizza (next to the Boot) - Was this a sandwich? Not really, but after leaving the Boot on 50 Cent (the monetary unit, not the rapper) Night, nothing was better. Folding over that grease laden flap of bread sodden with canned tomato sauce and stringy cheese provided much delight to Peter. And at the end of the day, it was bread, cheese, and sauce, that sounds like a sandwich to me. Plus, the place sowed the seeds of late night pizza love that most of us (OK, really just Rene) perfected in college.
6. Cafe Adelaide - $30 Po-Boy: We honestly can't remember exactly what made up this sandwich, but we think it went something like this: veal daube and a sunny side up quail egg with a truffle and foie gras emulsion. This po-boy first caught our attention on the Commander's Palace episode of After Hours when Ti Martin and Lally Brennan offered it to host Daniel Boulod as a challenge to his $30 hamburger. Peter tried to order it once over the summer, but alas it was no longer being offered because it clashed with the COOLinary menu. Maybe one day it will return.