Mr. Wally Johnson doesn’t know why he spelled “TO-DAY” with a dash, but he did and it stuck.

The iconic red and white sign sways in the breeze, but it wasn’t the first sign Mr. Johnson painted. The first one wore out and he couldn’t bear to toss it, so it hangs above the pot that holds the Cajun specialty inside Johnson’s Boucaniere in Lafayette, Louisiana.

Boudin (pronounced boo-DAN) is a big deal in Cajun Country and in other rural parts of Southern Louisiana. Calvin Trillin and others have written about it. Websites are dedicated to it, including the Southern Boudin Trail, a documentary project from the Southern Foodways Alliance, and Boudin Link, a letter-grade ratings guide to dozens of boudin outlets.

A riff on the rural French sausages boudin noir (with pig’s blood) and boudin blanc (without), Cajun boudin is even more countrified.

To stretch the precious pork further, Acadians add rice to their boudin, making it even whiter than boudin blanc. It makes total sense. The swampy wetlands of Southern Louisiana are rife with rice fields.

Boudin recipes are a point of pride and closely guarded secrets. They vary from gas stations to meat markets (where most boudin is sold) to restaurants. Ask any local and they’ll tell you where to get the best boudin — and it’s unlikely you’ll get the same answer twice.

Most recipes are some variation of pork (usually braised shoulder meat), most times enriched with pork liver, but not always, rice, onions (generally yellow onions and sometimes scallions), red and black pepper, sometimes garlic powder, and sometimes parsley.

The soft, squishy sausage is sold by the link, but priced by the pound. Generally a link is between $1.50 and $2.00.

It’s wrapped in paper and usually eaten as a to-go breakfast or snack somewhere between the counter and the parking lot. Boudin is an original slow, fast food.

Poche’s Meat Market sits along a stretch of highway north of I-10 and the town of Breaux Bridge, about 15 minutes east of Lafayette.

Poche’s boudin simmers on low in big aluminum stockpots. It’s rice and spice heavy with plenty of moisture.

The recipe for Wally Johnson’s boudin has been in his family long before 1937, the year Johnson’s Grocery opened in Eunice, about 40 miles northwest of Lafayette.

The grocery closed in 2005, but three years later the family opened a smokehouse restaurant in Lafayette that continues to serve the family boudin, as well as other Cajun and BBQ specialties.

After 75 years of practice, the Johnson family has perfected the porky link. Balanced between pork, rice, and spice, it’s neither too wet, nor too dry — a fine specimen.

Back in Breaux Bridge, Charlie-T Specialty Meats steams boudin in a rice cooker on the counter behind the cash register.

The natural casing has plenty of snap, and the flavor is heavy on onion and light on pepper. Ask at the Breaux Bridge Visitor’s Center where to get house made boudin, and Charlie-T is on the short list.

Once upon a time, every gas station made their own, but nowadays, most gas stations buy their boudin from meat markets like Poche’s and others.

Rental cabins on the edge of Breaux Bridge may seem like an odd place to find great homemade boudin. Bayou Boudin & Cracklin, the little store in front of Bayou Cabins used to be a cafe.

No longer a full service restaurant, Bayou Boudin & Cracklin still serves up a mess of Cajun specialties, including boudin.

Cut into pieces and flavored with a good dose of liver and pepper, this boudin is thick and rich, best washed down with a glug of homemade root beer.

Don’s Specialty Meats opened in Carencro in 1993, just a few minutes north of Lafayette, and opened a second location in 2005 in Scott, on the northwestern edge of Lafayette. Don’s boudin, a favorite of the Buchanan Lofts innkeeper in downtown Lafayette, sports more meat than rice, with a subtle but building pepper kick.

 You can throw a rock in any direction in Cajun Country and likely hit a link of boudin. Most of them will be good.

These five — Johnson’s, Poche’s, Charlie-T, Bayou Boudin & Cracklin, and Don’s — are some of the best.

Is it crazy to build a trip around a boudin hunt? We don’t think so. In fact, we ran into a couple from Houston on the same mission. But if it is, call us nuts. And happily stuffed.

Details:

Where to stay:

Buchanan Lofts
403 South Buchanan Street, Lafayette, LA
337-534-4922

Where to eat boudin:

Johnson’s Boucaniere
1111 Saint John Street, Lafayette, LA
337-269-8878

Poche’s Meat Market
3015 Main Highway A, Breaux Bridge, LA
337-332-2108

Charlie-T Specialty Meat
530 Berard Street, Breaux Bridge, LA
337-332-2426

Bayou Boudin & Cracklin’
100 W. Mills Avenue, Breaux Bridge, LA
337- 332-6158

Don’s Specialty Meats
730 I 10 S Frontage Rd  Scott, LA
(337) 234-2528

Resources:

Southern Boudin Trail

Boudin Link

Google tortilla soup recipes, and it’s slim pickings, with only 1.9 million, give or take 60,000, to choose from. The problem obviously isn’t the quantity, it’s the quality. How do you know which one to try?

It depends on what kind of tortilla soup you’re looking for. I’ve tasted plenty of tortilla soups over the years, and I’ve made a few, too, so I know they come in all forms and fashions. Thick or thin, rich or lean, spicy or mild.

This version is not your typical tortilla soup, although after finding almost 2 million recipes, I’m not sure what typical tortilla soup is anymore. What I am sure of is this version has all the flavors I love in a tortilla soup — cumin, chile, and garlic, with a bit of tortilla crunch. It’s hearty, spicy, and loaded with plenty of chicken and vegetables — almost like a stew with tortilla soup flavors.

I want to point out it calls for ancho chile paste you make yourself.  It’s easy, and the recipe is below. You can, in a pinch, substitute 1-1/2 teaspoons of dry ancho chile powder in place of the tablespoon of ancho paste, although it doesn’t deliver quite the same, rich taste.

Once you have all your ingredients assembled and prepped, cooking the soup doesn’t take that long, maybe 20-25 minutes. So look at the ingredient list and see what you can prep ahead of time (the tortilla strips can be made while you’re prepping the ingredients for the soup, or even a day or two ahead of time).

Texas-Style Tortilla Soup

from my cookbook, Par Fork! The Golf Resort Cookbook

[print recipe]

Serves 6

Ingredients:
1 tablespoon butter
1-1/2 cups chopped onion
1 tablespoon minced garlic
2 cups corn kernels (fresh preferably, or frozen)
1 cup seeded and chopped tomato
1 jalapeño, minced (remove seeds 1st for less heat)
2 (4-ounce) cans chopped mild green chiles
1 tablespoon cumin
1 tablespoon ancho chile paste* (or 1-1/2 teaspoons ancho chile powder)
2 teaspoons Mexican oregano**
2 teaspoons commercial chile powder
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
6 cups chicken stock
3 cups chopped cooked chicken breast (about 3/4 pound)
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
3 tablespoons cornstarch
2 tablespoons cold water
Juice of 1/2 a lime

Garnish:
2 cups fried thin tortilla strips***
3 large avocados, peeled and chopped
6 tablespoons sour cream

Method:

1. Melt butter in a stockpot over medium heat.  Stir in onions and cook 2 minutes, stirring occasionally.  Stir in garlic.  Cook, stirring frequently, until onions are soft, about 2 to 3 more minutes.

2. Stir in corn, tomatoes, jalapeño, green chiles, and spices (cumin through black pepper), cooking another minute or so.

3. Stir in chicken stock.  Increase heat to high and bring to a boil.  Reduce heat to medium and simmer for 10 minutes.

4. Stir in chicken and cilantro.  Bring to a boil. Meanwhile whisk cornstarch and water together.  Whisk mixture (called a slurry) into boiling soup.  Reduce heat and simmer for a few minutes (it will thicken slightly as soon as it comes to a boil).

5. Stir in lime juice. Taste and season with salt if needed.

6. Ladle into warm soup bowls.  Garnish with fried tortilla strips, avocado chunks, and a tablespoon of sour cream.

*Ancho Chile Paste

Anchos are the dried form of the poblano pepper. Fresh dried anchos will be soft and pliable. If they are hard and brittle, they are old, and will not be as flavorful. Look for them at a Latin or Mexican market with high turnover on the produce.It’s a good idea to wear disposable latex gloves to protect your hands from the heat of the chiles.

Makes ~ 1/3 cup

3 ancho chiles
1 cup boiling water
1/2 teaspoon cider vinegar

Remove stems and seeds from ancho chiles. Toast chiles in a dry skillet over medium heat until fragrant, about a minute or two, turning frequently to prevent over-toasting.  Place chiles in a bowl and cover with boiling water mixed with the vinegar.  Rehydrate for 30 minutes.  Purée chiles in a blender with just enough of the soaking liquid to make a thick paste (think tomato paste consistency). Freeze any leftover sauce for another time.

** Mexican oregano is not the same herb as the more common Mediterranean oregano. Mexican oregano is more finely ground and a brighter olive green color.  Look for Mexican oregano on the Mexican food aisle of your grocery store.

*** Fried Tortilla Strips

12 corn tortillas
Vegetable oil for frying
1/2 teaspoon seasoned salt or chile powder

Cut tortillas in half and then slice each half into thin (julienne) strips. Pour enough vegetable oil in a skillet to come to a 1/2-inch depth. Heat oil over medium-high heat until very hot (350 degrees). Fry tortilla strips, in a couple batches so you don’t overcrowd the skillet, until golden brown. Remove from oil with a slotted spoon and place on paper towels to drain. Sprinkle with seasoned salt or chile powder. You can make these a day or two in advance and keep in an airtight container at room temperature.

The Art of Beef Cutting: A Meat Professional’s Guide to Butchering and Merchandising

by Kari Underly

Facts: John Wiley & Sons, Inc. 232 pages, $50.00 (or Amazon at $32.13)
Photos: Let’s say a gazillion. Underly can’t be in your shop or home to teach you but a series of step-by-step photos demo each “lesson”.
Recipes: None
Give To:  Culinary students, club store shoppers, food enthusiasts

When John Torode’s Beef And Other Bovine Matters was published, I was so jazzed that the dust cover unfolded into a poster size diagram of a cow showing forequarter, hindquarter and the various cuts from each, I hung it in my pantry. Inquiring minds want to know; chefs and cooks alike should know but finding a complete butchery course is difficult.

My father was an independent butcher when “hanging beef” was de rigueur. Having to move and butcher sides had such a debilitating effect on his back, he had to change careers. I was only 12 or so when he got out of the business and I never learned butchery from him. Nonetheless I’ve continued to be fascinated by the art.

Enter The Art of Beef Cutting: A Meat Professional’s Guide to Butchering and Merchandising by Kari Underly. Unlike Torode’s book, this is not a cookbook. You will find flavor profiles, suggested cooking methods and cooking tips, but what you won’t find is a single (food) recipe.

The “recipes” that Underly writes are Cutting for Profit (actually cost accounting and what has to be considered), Understanding Your Tools (knives, steels and stones), and Injury Prevention Strategies (which incorporates lifting and strengthening exercises for wrist and back).

Watch Kari at work

Mastering Cutting Techniques includes how to denude, to filet, Frenching, cubing, the use of netting and tying. The Beef Cutting chapter begins with a primal cut such as loin and addresses how to cut the main subprimals, which for loin are short loin, tenderloin, top strip loin bone-in, and boneless top strip loin.

The book is so comprehensive there are tables with the English, Latin, and French names of the cuts plus the very interesting “common and fanciful cut names” chart, e.g., common = beef chuck eye steak, fanciful = Delmonico.

One conclusion: If you are a club store shopper, you’re there to save money. If you are shopping for a beef tenderloin and know how to release the chain and cut it from the head, remove the fat and silverskin (denuding), you can buy the much less expensive whole tenderloin rather than the fully trimmed piece.

Kari Underly’s The Art of Beef Cuttingis a 2012 James Beard award finalist (to be announced May 4th).

Crab cakes come in three styles:

• Those that have so much filler you wonder if there is any crab at all;
• Those that are all crab, but unfortunately, don’t hold together in the pan or on the plate (I love these, usually prepared by seasoned restaurant cooks who have a knack for it, but it’s frustrating to cook them at home);
• Those that are mostly crab, but have just enough binding ingredients to delicately hold them together without upstaging the crab.

This recipe, from my last cookbook, Par Fork! The Golf Resort Cookbook, is firmly in the latter camp — plenty of crab but also just enough binder so the cakes stay together before and after cooking.

Think of them as Goldielocks crab cakes — just right.

There is no flour or bread crumbs in the crab mixture, although I use both to coat the cakes. Because of that, chilling the crab cake mixture is extremely important in keeping these crab-heavy cakes together.

There are three parts to this recipe but the good news is each recipe can can stand alone — sort of.

You can make just the crab cakes. You can make just the citrus fennel slaw. The citrus aïoli? I’m not certain you want to eat it by itself, but you might want to make a batch to use on a simple grilled fish or chicken breast, or as a lovely topping for spring asparagus.

This citrus flavored aïoli is a short cut, calling for prepared mayonnaise, but if you’d like to make your own, watch this Food 52 video about making it from scratch. Then just substitute your homemade mayo for the commercial kind in the recipe below.

Whatever you do, I hope you try each of these easy recipes — together or separately.

Crab Cakes with Citrus Aïoli & Fennel Slaw

Good crab is paramount to good crab cakes. Don’t use the shredded crab found in 6 ounce cans in the grocery store. Look for a quality brand sold in 1 pound containers at high end grocery stores or specialty markets. Some Costco outlets sell a good brand called Phillips.

[print recipe]

Makes 7 (3-inch) cakes

Crab Cake Ingredients:

1 pound cooked lump crab meat
1 teaspoon olive oil
1/2 cup finely chopped celery
1/3 cup finely chopped fennel bulb (replace with finely chopped red onion if you prefer)
1/4 cup mayonnaise
1 tablespoon chopped tarragon
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
2 teaspoons lemon zest
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 egg

Scant 1/2 cup flour
2 eggs, beaten
1-1/2 cups panko (Japanese bread crumbs)
Vegetable or peanut oil for frying

Method:

1. Pick over crab to remove any shells. Blot with paper towels if excessively moist.

2. Heat olive oil in a small skillet over medium heat. When hot, add celery and fennel. Cook until vegetables are tender, about 2 to 3 minutes.  Remove from heat to cool.

3. Mix crabmeat, cooled vegetables, mayonnaise, herbs, and lemon zest together until well combined. Taste and season with salt and pepper. Beat in 1 egg until well combined. Cover and chill in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour, up to 4 hours.

4. Set up a breading station with the flour in 1 bowl, the 2 beaten eggs in another bowl, and the panko in a third bowl.

5. Heat a large skillet over medium heat.  Pour in enough oil to come to a 1/4-inch depth. While the pan is heating, prepare the crab cakes.

6. Scoop 3-ounce portions, roughly 1/3 cup. (A #12 ice cream scoop is 1/3 cup.) Form into patties, about 3 inches in diameter.

7. First dip in flour to lightly coat cake, dusting off excess. Dip in beaten egg then roll in panko to completely cover. You can prepare the cakes up to this point and store covered in the refrigerator, up to 4 hours.

8. Heat the oven to 350°F. Fry cakes until golden brown on both sides, about 3 minutes per side.  Place on a baking sheet and finish cooking in the oven until done, about 5 to 7  minutes.

Quick Citrus Aïoli

Makes 1 cup

Ingredients:

1 cup mayonnaise
Zest of 1 lemon
1 teaspoon lemon juice
Zest of 1 lime
1 teaspoon lime juice
Salt and freshly ground white pepper

Method:

Whisk first 5 ingredients (mayonnaise through lime juice) together.  Season with salt and white pepper to taste.  May be prepared 2 days in advance.  Store covered in the refrigerator, up to 3 days.

Fennel & Endive Slaw with Citrus Vinaigrette

You can make the citrus vinaigrette ahead of time, but wait to slice the fennel and endive until you’re ready to serve to keep the salad fresh and bright.  For super thin fennel, use a mandoline or slicer.  Try to find purple-tinged Belgian endive to add a color contrast to the pale fennel.

Serves 4

Vinaigrette Ingredients:
1/4 cup grapefruit juice
2 tablespoons orange juice
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon champagne or white wine vinegar
1 teaspoon chopped tarragon
1/2 teaspoon minced shallots
1/4 teaspoon minced garlic
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground white pepper

Slaw Ingredients:

1 small fennel bulb thinly shaved (about 2 cups)
2 to 3 small Belgian endive (5 ounces) thinly sliced lengthwise
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
2 teaspoons chopped tarragon

Method:

1. Whisk (or blend in blender) the first 7 ingredients (grapefruit juice through garlic) together. Slowly whisk in olive oil (or drizzle into blender with machine on).

2. Season vinaigrette with salt and pepper to taste. Store covered in the refrigerator. (May be prepared up to 3 days in advance.)

3. Toss fennel with endive and herbs. Drizzle with enough vinaigrette to lightly coat the salad and toss again. (You may have leftover vinaigrette. Use up within 3 or 4 days.)

My heart has been broken a time or two. But never more so than when I love a restaurant more than the food.

I’m sure it’s happened to you, too.

Compare it to a date. The guy is cute and intelligent; he works “on paper.” But the chemistry just isn’t there.

So it is with some restaurants. The décor is great. The service is spot-on. The prices don’t break the bank. The reviews are positive. The chef is charming. But the food, well…it’s just so-so.

You just don’t connect with what’s on the plate.

So, as in dating, you try again. And again. Each time hoping the outcome will be different, that you’ll be dazzled by the kitchen’s culinary prowess.

It’s awkward to take friends and family to such a place, never knowing if you are going to get a good dish or a mediocre one. I mean, who wants to be an apologist for a restaurant?

To extend the dating metaphor, it’s like saying “He’s nice…enough, but not a sparkling conversationalist.”

Yet it’s undeniably disappointing when the chow just doesn’t deliver. In fact, it’s a loss akin to the grief you feel when you break it off with the not-quite-right-guy who should otherwise be a match.

In the culinary world, as in romance, you gotta move on.

Lemon’s Law:

When it comes to restaurants, trust your instincts, regardless of what others say.

Annie Lemon is a pseudonym for a newly transplanted, nationally published food writer who lived most recently in a large East Coast city with a diverse food scene. She’s not sour, just hungry.

And right now, they probably are. The festival (April 17-22) is just a couple of weeks away.

But they certainly aren’t bored — and you won’t be either because organizers have dreamed up some new events to add spice to the usual line-up.

By the way, that’s Chef Eggbert (above), the unofficial mascot for this year’s festivities. If you follow the festival’s Facebook page, you know he’s been “hiding” around town, and if you spot him, you can win tickets to some of the events.

You can get the full line-up of events here at the official Scottsdale Culinary Festival website, but I’ve highlighted a couple of the new events and offerings: (in chronological order)

Shaken & Stirred – Tuesday, April 17, 7 p.m. to 10 p.m. 

Get retro with this $40 event at Mabel’s On Main and sample three throw-back cocktails paired with nibbles from Chef Aaron May, plus live entertainment. Perfect venue for this classic cocktail fête.

Burger Battle – Thursday, April 19, 6 pm to 9 p.m.

This new event ($55) at the Scottsdale Stadium on Osborn Road features 16 Valley chefs battling it out for burger bragging rights.

Not only do you get to sample the goods and crown the burger “king”, you might win the raffle for a brand spanking new Charbroil  TRU-Infrared 3-Burner Gourmet grill.

 Here is who is competing for your vote for best burger:

• Zinburger
• The Capital Grille
• RnR Restaurant
• Petersen’s Old Fashioned Ice Cream, since 1919
• Old Town Whiskey
• Modern Burger
• Lush Burger
• Lenny’s Burger
• La Grande Orange Grocery & Pizzeria
• Indulge Burgers and More
• El Hefe
• Chelsea’s Kitchen
• Bueno Burger Mex American Grill
• Bourbon Steak Scottsdale, a Michael Mina Restaurant
• Bobby Q Great Steaks and Real BBQ
• Cold Beers and Cheeseburgers
• Whoopie Baking Company (you’ll need a sweet treat after all those burgers)

Epicurean Expo – Saturday and Sunday, April 21 and 22, noon to 6 p.m.

This event (free with purchase of a Great American Picnic (GAP) ticket –$10 per day) replaces Cooks & Corks from years past. This mini-trade show will feature cooking demos from Robin Miller (TV Food Network star and cookbook author) and Barbara Pool Fenzl (PBS host, cookbook author and Les Gourmettes Cooking School owner), among others, and will showcase the latest kitchen appliances, culinary products, cookware, knives and gadgets from 21 vendors.

Celebrity Shows – Saturday and Sunday, April 21 and 22, 1 p.m. and 3 p.m.

GAP ticket holders can purchase a ticket to see the Travel Channel’s Adam Richman (Man vs. Food Nation) and/or Andrew Zimmern (Bizarre Foods) perform their wildly popular culinary schticks at the Scottsdale Center for Performing Arts. (Tickets are $30 in advance/$40 at the door, if any are left). Saturday, Richman is up first at 1 p.m., followed by Zimmern at 3 p.m., and they flip slots on Sunday, with Zimmern up first at 1 p.m.

VIP Access – Saturday, April 21, noon to 9.m. and Sunday, April 22, noon to 6 p.m.

There are three VIP access programs to choose from:

Picnic All Access: ($50 per day)

If you’ve been to GAP before, you know the drill: pay $10 to get in, and then pay extra to get into the Southwest Festival of Beers, the SKKY Bar, the Tequila Experience and on Saturday, the jamming After Party. This year, you can buy an all-access ticket for each day, and skip the extra fees to gain entrance to these specialty areas, plus you’ll get a one-year subscription to Food & Wine magazine. (You should know that access to the specialty areas is free with this pass, but the food & beverages in these areas is not free, so bring some extra cash.)

Gold Picnic Access ($200 Saturday / $175 Sunday)

In addition to the benefits of the Picnic All Access ticket, you’ll get guaranteed premium parking, preferred seating to your choice of one of the Celebrity Shows, access to the VIP Lounge featuring food from Distrito with premium beverages and entertainment. You’ll also get a one-year subscription to Food & Wine.

Platinum Picnic Access ($300 Sautrday / $250 Sunday)

In addition to the benefits of the Gold Picnic Access, the Platinum package includes a meet & greet and book signing (books cost extra) with either Richman or Zimmern, depending on which show you select. You’ll also get a two-year subscription to Food & Wine.

Other Returning Events:

Friends of James Beard Benefit Dinner, Wednesday, April 18th, 6 p.m.
Chocolate & Wine Experience, Wednesday, April 18, 7 p.m. to 10 p.m.
Bubbles & Bliss, Thursday, April 19, 7 p.m. to 10 p.m.
Eat, Drink & Be Pretty, Friday, April 20, 7 p.m. to 11 p.m.
Chef Wine Dinners, Saturday, April 21, 6:30 p.m.
Wine Country Brunch, Sunday, April 22, 11 a.m. to 2 p.m.
Best of the Fest (Grand Finale, almost sold out) Sunday, April 22, 6:30 p.m.

Why support the Scottsdale Culinary Festival?

Don’t forget that even though you’re getting a unique culinary experience, no matter which venue you choose to attend, the purpose of the festival is to raise money for local arts.

The festival was started by the Scottsdale League for the Arts in 1978. In 1992, the League instituted a grant program to further support local arts, and with funds from the Scottsdale Culinary Festival, the League has distributed more than $3.5 million dollars to local arts and education programs in the Valley.

So as you ponder which venue to attend, remember that you’ll have a great experience and the local arts community will benefit from your generosity. Sounds like a win-win.

Which events are you attending? I’ve got my eye on the Burger Battle.

I’ll admit the po’boy is technically a sandwich, but — and this is a BIG but — it is not  just a sandwich. Po’boys are as iconic as gumbo or étouffée in New Orleans, where they originated, and even throughout southern Louisiana.

The story goes that during a streetcar strike in 1929, the owners of the Martin Brothers Coffee Stand and Restaurant, both of whom had worked as streetcar operators, fed striking workers free sandwiches, calling out “here comes another poor boy” as hungry strikers walked through the door. The strikers lost, but the “poor boy” name stuck.

Who knows if the story is true, or what the original po’boy was comprised of, although these days anything goes, including fried shrimp, oysters, catfish, ham, all manner of sausages, roast beef, and yes, even French fries.

Somewhere along the way, “poor boy” was shortened to “po’boy,” although New Orleans Magazine is making a gallant — if futile – attempt to reinstate the original “poor boy” moniker. Good luck with that.

On a recent trip to New Orleans and Cajun Country, I wasn’t on a mission to eat as many po’boys as I could, but once you taste one, you’re bound to crave another.

We began at Domilise’s in New Orleans, based on a tip from Phoenix food blogger Dominic Armato of Skillet Doux. It’s a 15-20 minute cab ride from the French Quarter, west of the Garden district and two blocks north of the Mississippi River in a modest neighborhood on Annunciation Street.

I didn’t know it at the time, but these po’boys would be the best of the trip. Maybe it’s because of the bread, with a particular crust — crisp but not flaky — and a tender crumb. The bread, from Leidenheimer Baking Company, is delivered twice daily in tall, brown paper sacks holding bundles of nearly 3-feet long baguettes.

Maybe it’s the old charm of Domilise’s itself, with octogenarian Dot Domilise still standing at the counter assembling sandwiches, that makes these po’boys stand out.

They are everything a po’boy should be: simple, hot and delicious.

Order it “dressed” and you get sliced tomatoes, shredded iceberg lettuce, and a thick slather of mayo. Depending on the po’boy, other “dressings” are added — hot sauce on the shrimp po’boy and “chili ketchup” and creole mustard on the pork sausage. Roast beef gets “debris” — aka, gravy.

Our next stop was Lafayette, anointed the best small town for food by Rand McNally in 2011 and recently christened “Tastiest Town in the South” by Southern Living magazine.

Ask around, and locals will tell you the best po’boy is at Olde Tyme Grocery, near the University of Louisiana Lafayette.

For comparison, I ordered the shrimp po’boy. Inside this half market – half restaurant is a confusing scene, but you order at one counter, and then cool your heels until it’s ready at a separate counter where you pay.

The bread is crustier than Domilise’s, and the shrimp are slightly larger and have more cornmeal and spices in the breading. It’s a close second.

A short 15-minute car ride east from Lafayette to Breaux Bridge, we learn that Le Café is the place for po’boys.

They apparently make a mean hamburger, too, but if you’re hankering for a po’boy, Le Café is the place.

Le Cafe’s version is different from the previous two, but the shrimp is plump and sweet. The batter is thick, flour only (no cornmeal) with mild seasonings. The bread is different, too, softer and less bread-y in the center.

I liked it — alot — but there was something more appealing about the first two po’boys that put this one a notch below. If I was in Breaux Bridge again, would I stop at Le Café for another one? You betcha. The shrimp was cooked perfectly and the batter was over-the-top crunchy.

Our next stop was Baton Rouge, and this time I called on chef/blogger/radio host Jay Ducote of Bite and Booze for some expert guidance. He gave us several options, and we settled on two — one dive and one upscale bistro.

George’s, the dive, has three locations in Baton Rouge. We chose the original one, located next to an overpass. Order at the counter and pay when they call your name and hand over the food.

There is a lot to crow about George’s shrimp po’boy, from the crackly crust to the highly seasoned flour breading to the plump, juicy shrimp, to the minimal amount of “dressing,” ensuring the shrimp is the star.

I’d put George’s shrimp po’boy just behind Domilise’s and the Old Tyme Grocery.

The next stop, Beausoleil, is the kind of bistro any neighborhood would be lucky to have. Topnotch service, a chalkboard listing local purveyors, and a menu full of gussied-up regional specialties made me wish we were staying in Baton Rouge longer than a quick pit stop.

I desperately wanted to try the fried chicken special, or the fried catfish with tomato courtboullion and dirty rice, but I’d come for the shrimp po’boy.

I have mixed feelings about this one. Oh, I ate every bite and enjoyed it, but I couldn’t help think that this could be even better on different bread.

The shrimp were fat and lightly breaded, so sweet and succulent, and the spicy aioli was terrific. The tomato was ripe and juicy, and the upgraded butter lettuce was a nice touch, too. I just didn’t like the soft-crusted, thin bread as much as others that came before.

I thought I’d had my fill of shrimp po’boys, but that wasn’t the case. At the New Orleans airport, waiting for a flight back to Phoenix, I caught the unmistakeable whiff of fried shrimp.

Following my nose, I marched past the lengthy line at Subway to The Praline Connection, with no line, and ordered my last shrimp po’boy.

All I can say is why were those people standing in line at Subway, when a few feet away was another tasty po’boy?

A bucketful of small, cornmeal crusted shrimp on a toasted French loaf, this po’boy was very good. Certainly better than anything at Subway.

Oh, and my reluctant dining partner who thought a po’boy was just a sandwich? Let’s just say I left him here, somewhere in the Atchafalaya Basin, to kindly explain that faux pas to the alligators. I wonder how that worked out?

Details:

Domilise’s
5240 Annunciation Street, New Orleans, LA
504-899-9126

Old Tyme Grocery
218 West St. Mary Blvd., Lafayette, lA
337-235-8165

Le Café
123 Rees Street, Breaux Bridge, LA
337-332-2500

George’s
2943 Perkins Road, Baton Rouge, LA
225-343-2363

Beausoleil
7731 Jefferson Highway, Baton Rouge, LA
225-926-1172

The Praline Connection at Louis Armstrong International Airport
900 Airline Drive, Kenner, LA
504-465-8447

I wipe beignet grease and powdered sugar from my hands and check the message. It’s from a Twitter chef buddy, asking if I’ve had the fried chicken at Coop’s Place.

“No,” I say, “I haven’t even heard of Coop’s Place.” Frankly, fried chicken wasn’t on my agenda. I only had eyes for crawfish, boudin, étouffée and shrimp po’boys (or poor boys — more on that in another post).

“Well,” my chef friend writes, “You have to go.” So I did.

Coop’s Place has been around since 1983. It isn’t so much off the beaten path — it’s on Decatur Street east of the French Market — but only locals and food-centric tourists who don’t mind a little seedy bar venture that far east. Make no mistake, Coop’s Place is a bar first, a restaurant second.

The interior is dimly lit and Cajun music blares. The only open tables are for large parties, so a bartender waves me to the bar, half full with locals sucking down Bloody Mary’s at the crack of noon.

I pick a barstool near a back corner of the “A” shaped bar, next to an old barfly sporting a USS Brooklyn ball cap.

He’s reading the paper and his tall cocktail glass is tucked in a coozie, so I can’t see what he’s drinking. He’s friendly enough, and he moves his paper over to make room.

He tells me his name is Brooklyn Joe, and he’s a regular, been coming to Coop’s Place for eight years, ever since he moved to New Orleans from New York. His thin, wiry hair sticks out willy nilly, but his arms seem thinner still. He says he gave himself a nickname because there were several Joes who work at Coop’s, plus a couple other regular Joe customers.

I take a look around, and stare for a moment at a pretty but sad-looking woman wearing a pinafore in the picture over the fireplace.

“That’s Aunt Ella,” Joe says, “Or that’s the name we gave her. We make up stories about who she was. Maybe she was a nurse, or maybe she ran a boarding house. She’s wearing some kind of uniform.”

I turn back around and notice my forearms stick to the wooden bar, thick with a couple of decades of spilled booze filling every nook and cranny of the worn wood. Fluorescent bulbs cast a yellow glow over everything and everyone, and fans spin at a snail’s pace, moseying the humid air along. The place has character, and Brooklyn Joe is very much a part of the vernacular.

The mission at hand is Cajun fried chicken, although the house specialties portion of the menu insists on seafood gumbo, and rabbit and sausage jambalaya. Fortunately, the fried chicken comes with a side of “famous” jambalaya.

By the time the plate arrives, I’ve made fast friends with Brooklyn Joe. He’s fussing about the Republican primary taking place the next day, snickering about how the candidates were all-of-a-sudden lifelong crawfish and oyster lovers.

Joe looks like he has missed a few meals, so when my plate of chicken arrives, I ask if he wants to split it with me.

His eyes widen, and his face lights up. “Why, yes!” he says, “But only if you have enough.”

He didn’t know that I’d already had a plate of Cafe du Monde beignets, and before the end of the day, I would sample four more New Orleans specialties. To me, there is nothing as delicious as sharing food with someone, especially someone who isn’t as lucky as I am.

We got another plate, and I placed a piece of the most fragrant, dark crusted chicken I’ve seen in a long time on his plate. I gave him half of the thick jambalaya and half of the creamy coleslaw.

He takes a few bites of the jambalaya first, and says, “I might have to take my hat off.”

Why? I ask.

“This is ha-ha-ha-hot!!!” he cries.

After eight years in the Quarter, Brooklyn Joe still hasn’t developed a taste for spice.

But he ate every bite.

And so did I.

Coop’s Place

1109 Decatur Street

New Orleans

(504) 525-9053

http://www.coopsplace.net

In my experience, chefs do not cook for the glamour or the money (as if!), but because they like to eat and they like to feed others. In that spirit, most willingly accommodate a guest’s reasonable demands.

But complain enough and you might find yourself without a seat at their table.

Restaurateurs routinely deal with a level of negativity  – from their staff, their vendors, the media and especially from their customers. Mostly, they shrug it off and return to the business of serving food.

But when a diner’s bad behavior continually crosses the line over a period of time, even the most good-natured chef may boot you from their establishment.

And why shouldn’t they? An über demanding customer pulls focus from other diners, upsetting a restaurant’s rhythm.

Still, the decision to stop feeding someone doesn’t come easily.

One vexed chef recently turned to social media to air complaints and solicit insight about how to handle an impossible-to-please patron.

Validation was quick to come from followers who sided with the popular chef.

One fan suggested that a finicky diner was an abusive bully who needed to be schooled. Another encouraged the chef to give the cranky eater a chance to address her conduct.  Several suggested poisoning—tongue in cheek, I hope. One recommended the chef direct the diner to another establishment that might be better equipped to handle culinary-related tantrums. Another suggested the chef needed to eradicate bad karma by dismissing the diner. A few folks cited possible mental illness on the part of the patron.  One wise observer suggested that people “fire” themselves.

But all agreed: chefs have every right — and a responsibility to their staff and other patrons — to fire a customer who’s torturing them.

Few folks relish confrontation. But the chef in question did, indeed, fire the customer. Naturally, the customer was in denial about her tortuous deeds.

In the real world, the customer isn’t always right, no matter how many times that mantra is repeated.

Lemon’s Law:

Everyone has a breaking point. Transgress a chef’s boundaries frequently enough and you may find yourself kicked to the curb.

Annie Lemon is a pseudonym for a newly transplanted, nationally published food writer who lived most recently in a large East Coast city with a diverse food scene. She’s not sour, just hungry.

There wasn’t anything to worry about. Day Two chefs were all over it — including Bernie Kantak of Citizen Public House, who veered off his typical tricked out comfort food fare with an avant garde, tea-smoked Ahi tuna paired with lavendar-scented tapioca and a sweet, herbal-soy gastrique, topped with red-shiso micro greens. Brilliant.

Before I recap Day Two, I want to backtrack to the luscious lamb meatball with Sicilian lentils from The Parlor Pizzeria I tasted yesterday (they returned on Sunday, too). I forgot to snap a picture, and seriously, no description I could write could convey its deliciousness more than a photo, so here it is (yes, I ate it again and loved it even more the second time):

The biggest difference between Day One and Day Two?

Sunday was far more crowded, and some lines were long (undeservedly so in one case, more on that later).

I heard the event was filled to capacity (2,500 tickets sold) but at times it seemed as if double that amount were waddling around The Phoenix Art Museum’s Dorrance Garden. The indoor room housing more desserts, beer, wine and silent auction items did little to create more outdoor elbow room. Looking back, it made Day One seem a ghost town by comparison.

The other difference was, of course, the food. As much as I gushed about Day One restaurants, Day Two raised the bar even higher. That said, the pork belly topped with kimchi from Roka Akor from Day One is still one of the best dishes I’ve tasted at Devoured. Ever.

The Breadfruit, a downtown Phoenix Jamacian-inspired restaurant kept it simple but flavorful with a smoky mussel (above) steamed with a sweet and spicy rum reduction. Delicious.

Best effort by a family restaurant goes to Hana Japanese. I lost count of the offerings from the Hashimoto clan, but every bite I popped into my mouth danced and thrilled, especially the uni (sea urchin) shooter (above). Fantastic.

The fully-cooked hamachi with sweet marinated daikon radish was tasty, too — and different.

Other punchy bites were kushiyaki (marinated and grilled bites of rib-eye, shishito peppers, and two different chicken versions (above), and sweet cup of Hana an Mitsu, jellied aloe vera, red bean paste and mandarin orange.

The Mongolian BBQ Shrimp with lemongrass grits and kimchi from the House of Tricks brought me back to their booth to find out if it was on their menu, because if it was, I was going to make a reservation on the spot. It isn’t on the menu, but it should be.

J & G Steakhouse at the Phoenician brought a nice aged strip loin with cilantro pesto, but their juicy, spicy black pepper shrimp with dried pineapple, diced jicama and pea shoots really stole the steak’s thunder.

Most creative display goes to the Tuck Shop for their old-fashioned crawfish boil, dumped straight from the kettle to a newspaper-draped table. No one seemed to mind digging in, peeling shrimp and mud bugs, and gnawing on corn-on-the-cob.

Tuck Shop wasn’t content with just the crawfish boil. They plated up hearty  muffalettas, too, and poured Four Peaks brews to go with them. Watch for their new, next door breakfast and lunch spot, The Astor House, to open within the next month.

Chef James Porter of Petite Maison is a showman, and a funny one at that. He had the crowd in stitches during his demo, while back at his booth, I dove into rustic head cheese, with a tart and sweet beet and bean salad. Head cheese isn’t for everyone, but Porter’s version was as refined as pig parts suspended in gelatin can be.

Most creative (and perhaps the most expensive) serving container goes to Beckett’s Table. Pork ‘n beans in a can? There was a twist: this wasn’t any ordinary pork (it was rillettes) and the beans weren’t typical either, at least not the fava beans. Fun, fun, fun — and tasty, too.

Hot dogs at a refined culinary festival? Why not, especially when said pups are from food truck phenom Short Leash Dogs. They brought three dogs: a phyllo-dough wrapped sausage, a Frito-pie version and the Lady dog, with chipotle sauce, sweet caramelized onions, and a fried pickle (above). That puffy bread underneath is Short Leash Dogs’ version of a “standard” bun.

Silvana Esparza Salcido proved she is still Queen of the barrio (Barrio Cafe and Barrio Queen), with four tastes, including creamy, tangy corn in a cup and a refreshing Mexican shrimp cocktail.

The natives might revolt if Silvana didn’t bring her famous cochinita pibil, and the pomegranate guacamole was a bonus. I noticed Silvana tossing Barrio branded T-shirts to the crowd, and thought, “smart lady.” Those folks will be walking billboards for her restaurants. It always surprises me when restaurateurs try to turn T-shirts into a profit center instead of recognizing them as a marketing tool.

CIBO offered three tastes: a tasty pear salad, a so-so arincini (breaded, fried risotto ball) and a killer cauliflower soup with a touch of coconut milk and heat, topped with a popcorn piece. I had two spoonfuls but would have happily devoured a full bowl.

Cork in Chandler offered different bites throughout the day, and I wasn’t particularly taken with any of the three I tried. Although they were fine, they certainly didn’t wow me. (Clockwise from top: macadamia nut bread pudding with coconut; strip loin with garlic, basil and Syrah glace; sweet potato cake topped with a marinated golden raisin.)

Hula Modern Tiki surprised me with a generic “white fish” ceviche that was too salty and too tart, but the potent, delicious Mai Tai quickly erased all bad thoughts I had about the dish.

And now we come to the end of the line. A long, snaking line.

Kai, Arizona’s only Forbes Five-Star restaurant, had the longest lines of the day. I’m going to go out on a limb and say their offerings didn’t deserve any longer lines than half a dozen other restaurants.

What on earth did they bring to make the food-obssessed stand in line for half an hour?

Oh. Right. A suckling pig. Impressive for sure, and the shredded pork on top of a fresh-fried (but tough and dry) puffy fry bread was really, really succulent. It was good.

Actually, it was great, but it wasn’t the best of the fest and it was tough to stand in line when so many other deserving restaurants had no lines. Fortunately Kai brought along some front-of-the-house folks who recognized the fans were getting antsy, so they began bringing trays of the pork and their other terrific offering, a cedar planked Artic Char, to the line of not-so-patient patrons.

One bite of Tammie Coe’s “crack” cake erased any memory of lengthy lines and crowded pathways. There was simply no better way to end the two day festival than with this small slab of dark chocolate ganache dusted with rich cocoa powder. It was crazy-good, elevated to utterly fantastic when paired with the roasted banana “tea.”

Another Devoured Phoenix Culinary Classic  is now in the books, and organizers should be proud of this two-day extravaganza. I think this 2012 festival will be the one we talk about for years to come.

Other Day Two Recaps:

Howard Seftel: AZ Central

Jess Harter: Mouth By Southwest