Pass the PoBoy Please by Kat Magendie

If I had never lived in South Louisiana, I would never have known what I was missing when it comes to Food. Now, there is good food to find in Western North Carolina, but the problem is this: when you have had South Louisiana food for many years, other food often pales in comparison. Restaurants in other cities often think that “Cajun” or “Creole” means to put lots of pepper or Tabasco sauce on the food, or to “Blacken” it. Instead, it’s all about the combination of spices, and The Love.

My good friend and YOG buddy, Angie Ledbetter, is on her way to our mountains. When she gets here, I will not be taking her from restaurant to restaurant, because how can I compare? Indeed, when she asked me, “What can I bring from here?” I said, “A hot shrimp poboy!” Of course she can’t take a hot shrimp poboy on the plane, but that’s the first thing that slathered across my brain rendering me slobbering with desire. South Louisianians just know how to cook—they adore food; and it’s not just the food, it’s the preparation of it—from grocery or farmer’s market, to home, to the skillet, all of it is created with Special Love. I know, for my spousal unit in residence is from New Orleans. Even so, he can’t re-create a poboy and hot salty French fries from GEORGE’s on Perkins Road—it’s right under the interstate, a tiny little building that one who didn’t know of it may just pass it on by; a true ‘hole in the wall.”

The years I spent in Baton Rouge, I took the food for granted a bit. It was always there, like Spanish moss in cypress trees, and always loyal LSU fans shouting, “EL ESS YOU EL ESS YOU EL ESS YOU!” on Saturday nights in the fall. Yet, even in my “taking it for granted” days, I still knew I was in the midst of something special, something time-worn, something Louisianians are damn proud of—and should be. I’m grateful for my time there, for every hot shrimp poboy, every etoufee, every spicy Creole or Cajun meal, every perfectly seasoned dish (oh! Crabmeat au gratin—slobbering again). Next time I visit my old adopted city, I will stop in GEORGE’s and calories be-damned; I’ll eat every luscious bite of my shrimp poboy, crispy hot fries, with an ice-cold beer. Thank you Louisiana!