Roadfood_ Revised Edition - Jane Stern [122]
L | $
You won’t likely drive past Domilise’s bar/sandwich shop by accident, for it is located in a very unscenic blue-collar neighborhood by the river, and if you did accidentally drive by, you’d never guess that it was source of some of New Orleans’s best sandwiches. From the outside it looks like a small, no-frills neighborhood tavern, and in some ways, that is what it is. We guess it would be possible to walk in, sit at the bar, and knock back longnecks or boilermakers all day long. To do so, you’d have to have no sense of smell, for the air of this tavern is wildly perfumed with its true claim to fame: great po-boy ingredients. Shrimp, oysters, and catfish are heaped hot from the fry basket onto loaves of bread. Po-boys are also available made from all manner of cold cuts.
When you walk in, you may have to take a number before you can place your order. At the height of lunch hour, Domilise’s is packed, for its superior po-boys attract eaters from all over the city; table space is precious (strangers often share); and the house phone rings unanswered.
For the newcomer, a little delay is a good thing because it provides an opportunity to read the menu on the wall and to observe the sandwich makers construct various types of po-boys before deciding which is the right one for you. Hot smoked sausage with gravy is the one we recommend above all others. Get it “dressed,” meaning topped with tomato, lettuce, and grainy Creole mustard. A large one is constructed on a length of bread so long that it must be cut in thirds to fit on its paper plate. While the sandwich is being made, buy your drink at the bar and hope that by the time you are ready to eat, space at a table is available.
Dupuy’s Oyster Shop
108 S. Main St.
337–893–2336
Abbeville, LA
LD (closed Tues) | $$
There’s a broad menu at Dupuy’s, including sirloin steak, fried catfish, pastas, and wonderful onion rings, plus a bountiful Sunday brunch, but as the full name of the place suggests, oysters are the star attraction. The very best way to have them is raw on the half-shell by the dozen, served on a tray of ice with a full complement of condiments. Or, if you like things cooked, have them fried and stuffed into bread with mayonnaise and mustard. In addition, there is oyster stew and an intriguing grilled oyster salad.
The one other dish that is essential to eat at this friendly, always-crowded town café is Cajun seafood gumbo, a boldly spiced stew that you can practically eat with a fork.
When Dupuy’s opened in 1869, the price of a dozen just-shucked oysters was a dime. Today, a dozen will cost you no more than five dollars.
Dwyer’s Café
323 Jefferson St.
337–235–9364
Lafayette, LA
BL | $
No one makes lunch sound as good as Mike Dwyer does. You will hear his pitch as you approach the cafeteria area of Dwyer’s Café, where he enumerates the day’s choices, one by one, with enough pride and exuberance to make stomachs growl. It’s a joy to hear him, but in fact, this food needs no hard sell. It is a superlative plate lunch.
Parenthetically, Dwyer’s hamburgers are excellent. But it’s the hot lunches we love. Dwyer’s is a meat-and-three affair, the daily meats including such expertly cooked stalwarts as smothered pork chops, lengths of pork sausage, roast beef with dark gravy, and chicken-fried steak with white gravy. One day in the winter, Mike was pitching crawfish fettuccine, a fabulous cross-cultural Franco-Italian-Cajun noodle casserole loaded with crawdads. Among the notable side dishes are dirty rice, eggplant casserole, red beans, and sausage jambalaya. On cold days, you can get gumbo or chili.
Dwyer’s is also a notable breakfast opportunity. We love the tender sweet potato hotcakes with their faintly crisp edge (which Mike says he added to the menu for low-carb dieters!). When you order pancakes, the waitress will ask what kind of syrup you want: cane or maple. Sugar cane is a major crop around here, and the pancake syrup made from it is thick, dark, and resonantly sweet—but not at all white-sugar sweet.
Lasyone’s Meat Pie