Off the Map: The Muffletta That Divided a Nation

Muffaletta -- Johnny's Po Boys, New Orleans, LA

Johnny's Po Boys

The one thing you need to know about the muffaletta is that Ginger hates it.

HATES. IT.

During her own trip to New Orleans many moons ago, she stumbled upon Johnny's Po Boys and dutifully ordered the sandwich, recommended by Scott Conant on the NEW ORLEANS episode of Best Thing I Ever Ate. Needless to say, it did not go well.

The Restaurant That Launched a Thousand Olive-Based Grievances

Not only did Ginger complain about it at the time, but she has spent the subsequent years rehashing what a waste of time and calories the "monstrosity" (her word) was. Naturally, for all of these reasons, Vodka is DYING to try it, just to see what Ginger has been bellyaching about all this time.

Preparing to Be Horrified

 And guys? The muffaletta is delicious. 

Beginning to Question the Trustworthiness of Ginger's Tastebuds

Stumbling into Johnny's Po Boys for the day's second breakfast, Vodka and Whiskey Sour find the place bustling with a mostly local, mostly male contingent. When we place our order for one muffaletta, we are confronted with the baffling question: toasted or cold cuts? Ummmm. Which one will not result in the version that left Ginger ranting and raving for a decade?

Because We Want That One

Our cashier recommends the toasted option, and we settle against the wall to wait, taking note of the beverage display, where alcohol is being sold directly next to the orange juice.

We Love a Place That Serves Breakfast Booze

Just like our friends at Restaurant August, Johnny's Po Boys kindly splits our sandwich in half and gives us each our own plate. Thankfully, we only ordered one, as the muffaletta is enormous. 

Good Thing This Is Today's Last Planned Breakfast...

Stacked high with various deli meats of the salami and ham varieties, it is enclosed between two giant pieces of circular sesame bread. Melted cheese oozes out the sides, holding all the components together, while an olive salad peeks out between the layers.

And More Often Than Not, Falls Out the Sides

Diving in for our first bites, we are understandably skeptical. Based on our shoddy memories, we believe the main component that Ginger was railing against were the olives, and granted, one does need to enjoy olives in order to like this sandwich. However, Vodka is far from an olive connoisseur (she mostly likes them just in her martinis), but she is not offended by them in this capacity. 

Olives Best Served Stirred, Not Shaken

At first, we are impressed by the muffaletta mostly because of how much we expected to hate it. But after we later wind up at the bitter end of a multi-hour boat cruise, cold and starving, Vodka wishes she had packed the remainder of her sandwich to go, thus proving it to be even more pleasing after some time away.

Makes for a Perfect Breakfast and/or Midnight Snack

Of course, that opinion stands in stark contrast to Ginger's, where distance has only made her muffaletta-hating heart more hostile. Which maybe proves that all culinary delights are in the eyes, and the tastebuds, of the beholder.

Johnny's Po Boys's Muffaletta: 4 stars

Do People LIKE This?!

Oysters Rockefeller -- Grand Central Oyster Bar
Grand Central Oyster Bar

Generally speaking, it is usually not a good sign when we can be found spitting out a Best Thing I Ever Ate delicacy into an oyster cracker bag.  In fact, being that we're above the age of five, we really do not make a habit of removing food from our mouths once it is on the way down the hatch.  If anything, we merely power through, and then write a nasty recap.

Not so with Grand Central Oyster Bar.

The Place Brings Out the Worst in Us

In theory, we should love this establishment, as it is seemingly the only restaurant in the world where people like to eat as early as we do.  Indeed, when Vodka wanders in at 5:15pm, the bar is packed.  PACKED.  Who eats as this hour?!

Does This Place Have an Early Bird Special?!

Begrudgingly, Vodka is led to a table in the restaurant area of the room, and when she requests that we be granted a two-person table at the end of the row, she is denied.  Why?  "That table doesn't have waiter service until 6:00pm," the hostess says.  What now?!

Said table is located DIRECTLY NEXT to eight other tables, all with "waiter service."  How is this remotely logical?

Clearly, we should have known from the beginning that this place would give us trouble.

Next Thing We Know, They'll Be Telling Us They Don't Have Booze

Ginger arrives, we order our cocktails and decide on our choices: two bowls of New England clam chowder, a side of French fries, and the oysters Rockefeller, as recommended by Scott Conant on the OLD SCHOOL episode.

Old School Food, Old School Architecture

As our waiter retreats, we launch into our favorite complaint: why is there no bread on our table?  In our defense, this is a logical gripe, as all of the tables around us have rolls (which are not being eaten -- what is WRONG with you people?) resting atop them.

Come On Now - We Need Something to Soak Up Our Alcohol Intake

Instead of warm, delicious rolls, we are tossed two bags each of oyster crackers, which we tear into immediately as we continue to moan about our lack of carbs.

Welcome to Dinner at the Clam Shack

"Just because we're cheap doesn't mean we don't deserve bread," Vodka says, referring to our rather paltry choice of "entrees."  Less than a minute later, Ginger calls out, "Where is our bread?  Now I'm obsessed.  And plus, my cookies are gone!"

For the record, by "cookies," she means "oyster crackers."  Which were actually meant to be placed IN THE SOUP.

Patience Is Not Our Strong Suit

When we mention our breadless problem to our waiter, he has the bread boy escort a plate of rolls and grocery-store-generic crisps over immediately, along with a bowl of frozen butter.

Well, This Looks... "Fresh"

As one may recall, we HATE cold butter.  The whole point of the heavenly substance is to make it SPREADABLE.  And ice cubes are, guess what?  Not spreadable.

See?! Now We've Lost One!

Before we have a chance to be as crabby about the state of the butter as we would wish, our food begins to arrive.  First comes two bowls of New England clam chowder, in which we sprinkle our remaining oyster crackers.  Thick and chunky with clams and potatoes, the soup is definitely good -- standard, but good.

Although the Presentation Leaves a Lot to Be Desired

However, we both notice that once the oyster crackers have disappeared from within it, we grow decidedly less interested in the endeavor, and neither of us can seem to finish the remaining chowder.

Of Course, If We Had Some More BREAD With Which to Lap It Up, We May Feel Differently

The French fries are similarly tasty enough, though decidedly like something that could have come out of a freezer.

Ore Ida, Straight Out of the Bag!

Once Vodka has doused them with enough salt to put Ginger's (apparently high) cholesterol over the edge, they are more palatable.

Also, We Appreciate the Portion. In That It's Large

And then come the oysters Rockefeller.  Now, neither of us makes a habit of eating oysters, but we have no real prior opinion of them.

Open-Minded? That's So Unlike Us

Neither of us has tasted an oyster Rockefeller concoction before, and it appears to be oysters topped by spinach and a mustard-cheese sauce.  Ginger manages to commandeer an oyster into her mouth first, and upon impact, she makes a face.

And it's not a pleasant face either.

Again With the "Presentation" Skills....

Vodka dives in, and for a moment, she finds them less offensive than Ginger does.  Certainly not GOOD, but not awful.  Maybe 3 stars.  Verging on 2.

And then we both take another taste, which is when things begin to go downhill fast.

Could We Have Some Oysters With This Velveeta?

First of all, these oysters are lukewarm -- not hot, not cold, but warm.  Far from appealing in temperature, they taste as though they have been sitting out too long.  Second of all, the combination of the wilted, sad-looking spinach and preponderance of mustardy cheese (we determine later this is supposed to be hollandaise sauce) grows less palatable as we attempt to make our way through the plate.  And then there is the issue of the oysters themselves. To summarize, we might as well just have been handed a fistful of the beach to eat, because they are THAT gritty.

Someone Give Us a Pail and Shovel So We Can Build a Sand Castle

All in all, we are astounded that Scott Conant, of all people, picked this dish.  After all, Scott is the chef behind Scarpetta, which is pretty much the most delicious place on the planet.  It's not like he doesn't know how good things taste.  And these oysters Rockefeller are about as far from a good thing as one could get.

And Also, Heaven Knows Scott Knows His Way Around a Good Bread Basket!

At the end of our meal, the waiter comes by and asks how things were.

"Egh," Vodka answers.

"Terrible," Ginger says.

Listen, buddy -- don't ask questions that you don't want answers to.

When our waiter persists in asking what was wrong, Ginger points to the plate of oysters and says incredulously, "Do people LIKE these?"  Our waiter assures us that people do (clearly the same people who don't eat the free bread placed in front of them), but out of the goodness of his heart, he takes the price of the dish off of our bill.

Note the Hot Sauce Smear on the Plate - Ginger's Attempt to Make Them More Palatable

And for this, we give you, Oyster Bar, extra credit: 1 star +, for at least having some semblance of good customer service.  Of course, the "plus," doesn't really mean anything when it comes to this blog's record books, where you will be filed in the one-star territory.  Because, well, your food is still terrible.

Grand Central Oyster Bar's Oysters Rochefeller: 1 star

Breakfast? You Two Do the Oddest Things

Truffled Egg Toast -- 'Ino Cafe
'Ino Cafe

As unfathomable as it may sound, we have managed, through the years, to get other people to be our friends. 

We're not saying that we're completely unlikable people on our own, as we have each managed to procure quite enough friends to sustain us through life.  However, we tend to take pity on our mutual friends, as they are forced to put up with our inane conversations and nonsensical quests to have the Food Network dictate everything we eat.

One such mutual college friend (we all met in the marching band, so you can imagine the glowing level of hipness among us) came for a New York visit.  Naturally, we forced her into the action of our Best Thing I Ever Ate adventures with a trip to 'Ino Cafe to eat Scott Conant's favorite EGGSTRAORDINARY dish, the truffled egg toast.

Me Smell Truffle

We are set to arrive at what Ginger believes is the ungodly hour of 9:00am.  Unfortunately, come 9:00am, the only member of our party present at 'Ino Cafe is not only the one from out of town, but the one who had to travel the farthest across Manhattan in order to arrive.  Clearly, we fail at life (and as she later describes her recent forays to Europe, we realize just how hard we have failed).

Having both decided to try to walk off an eighth of the massive amounts of fried chicken and boxed wine we had consumed the day before, we arrive, panting, just after 9:00am.  The reason we are meeting so early in the first place is not just for scheduling convenience, but also because 'Ino Cafe is absurdly tiny, and Vodka is convinced that we will have to wait for a table if we arrive much after opening (and Vodka hates to wait almost as much as she hates to wait in the sun).  But when we stumble into 'Ino Cafe ten minutes after opening, metaphorical crickets can be heard: the place is empty.  In fact, it remains empty for 90% of our dining experience.  Clearly, Ginger isn't the only one in Manhattan who hates to eat early.

But the Early Bird Catches the... Egg?

And speaking of eating early, when Vodka had informed her mother that she and Ginger were meeting their friend for breakfast, her mother had responded, "Breakfast?  Who meets for breakfast?  You two do the oddest things."

In fact, breakfast is a rather convenient meal when your life philosophy is "It's Not Even Noon Somewhere."  Therefore, Vodka has no issue downing a bellini at 9:30am, and our guest joins her in mimosa consumption.

Mid-Morning Cocktails

Ginger, lamenting the previous day's box of wine and her subsequent pitcher of margaritas, sticks with (what Vodka finds to be appalling) black tea.

Poor Showing, Ginger

Our friend, who will have her Ph.D. in at least 18 subjects before the two of us figure out how to get anyone but our parents to read our blog, informs us that many studies have been completed at her academic institution showcasing the fact that people who drink alcohol regularly live much longer.  Ginger's assessment of this scientific fact?  "We're gonna live forever."

Onto the food, Vodka orders the chosen truffled egg toast, which arrives reeking of truffle oil (the one foodie smell we have now mastered).  A runny egg is perched on top of a thick slab of toast, all coated by a warm layer of chewy melted cheese and, of course, the truffle oil.  Miniature sprigs of asparagus also dot the plate, but they seem more an afterthought than part of the dish itself.  Stabbing into the egg, the yolk runs out across the cheese and toast (this runny yolk phenomenon is the reason Ginger refused to order the dish herself, as she apparently hates to see runny eggs in the morning).

Egg Running a Marathon

Biting in, the toast is crunchy and slightly tough on the corners but soft and warm on the inside, and it is in fact quite tasty.  Frankly, the combination of bread, cheese, and truffle oil would be fairly difficult to screw up, but the bird's nesting of the egg does indeed add to the proceedings.  If anything, the toast is a bit small for its $9 price, but the taste alone is worth it.

Cheese + Bread = Our Idea of a Good Time

Being unable to eat runny eggs before noon, Ginger decides on the Italian BLT, which has pancetta, lemon mayonnaise, rucola, and tomato in between two white slices of crustless bread.

Oh, and Some Lonely Looking Olives

This choice, too, proves to be pretty good, if nothing to write home about (Vodka believes an increase in bacon could have pushed the dish over the top, and the crustless bread makes it rather like an English tea time finger sandwich).

Fetch Us a Spot of Tea

And finally, our friend chooses the egg and cheese panino with sweet onion, which is a heftier sandwich than the other two and rather enjoyable (if a bit too sweet onion-heavy). 

Onion Overflow

As Ginger examines the lemon mayo on her sandwich, Vodka relates the fact that one of our other friends hates condiments in all forms, an opinion which horrifies Ginger, as she proclaims, "That's why I eat food: the condiments."  Therefore, perhaps the only thing standing in between the truffled egg toast and 5 star rating is a side of ketchup.

'Ino Cafe's Truffled Egg Toast: 4 stars

I Think We're Going to Need the Large Box

Mama Els' Recipe Chicken -- Hill Country Chicken
Hill Country Chicken 

Let's be clear: Hill Country Chicken could serve spam and Ginger would most likely still frequent the place merely for its music selection.

A country music aficionado, she can be found warbling along with the likes of George Strait, Josh Turner, and Trace Adkins throughout our meal, while Vodka, whose musical taste begins and ends with the stylings of Bernadette Peters, looks on in judgment.

Lucky for Vodka, we are not at Hill Country Chicken only for Ginger's personal country karaoke session: we are here to eat Scott Conant's favorite FRIED CHICKEN: the Mama Els' Recipe, along with about 87 side dishes and a box of wine.

They Do Chicken Right

Entering Hill Country Chicken, it is a miracle that we found the place, as Vodka had mistakenly made us reservations at Hill Country BBQ, which is about a block away and the same in just about every aspect except one: it doesn't serve chicken.  Minor detail.

Anyway, we join the excessively long and winding line of poultry eaters and consult the menu board.  Vodka's suggestion of getting the Pick of the Chick sampling to split between us is shot down by Ginger, who believes eight pieces of meat is about seven too many.  After all of this scoffing about overeating, however, we proceed to place an order that includes just about every item that Hill Country Chicken offers: chicken, biscuits, cole slaw, corn salad, pimento macaroni and cheese, banana cream pie, and a box of wine.

Pretty Little Boxes

Yes, that's right: a box of wine.  Hill Country Chicken serves boxed wine.  To say we are in our element would be an understatement.

Considering it is mid-afternoon, Ginger at first thinks it is preposterous to order anything other than the small box, especially after the server explains that it contains two-thirds of a bottle of wine.  More than enough, right?  Wrong.

Upon laying eyes on the small box of wine, which is much more akin to a Minute Maid juice box, Vodka, without even bothering to consult Ginger, says to the server, "I think we're going to need the large box."

Supersize Me

(This choice is subsequently mocked by the server himself, who inquires whether we are done working for the day or just "have the best jobs ever," and he seems mildly disappointed to hear it is the former).

Acquiring our trays of food, we stumble upon an open table mere feet from the cash register, a rarity during the hustle and bustle of the lunch rush.  Pouncing on it, it is not until we sit down that we realize why the table had been vacant: it is approximately the size of a pool table, with only two chairs.

Beauty and the Beast-Sized Dining Arrangement

At first, Ginger tries to rectify this problem by pulling her chair up next to Vodka's, but when she feels this maneuver has placed her in the way of other customers, we have to resort to holding (read: yelling) a conversation from five feet away in an incredibly loud establishment.  Needless to say, upon leaving Hill Country Chicken hours later, we discover that we had spent most of the time in various states of confusion by misinterpreting at least half of what the other person was saying.  (And in truth, the large box of wine probably did not help this matter much).

Back to the food: we dive into the Best Thing I Ever Ate choice first, and it is indeed everything that Scott Conant had promised.

Little Drummer Boy

Unfathomably moist and tender, the chicken meat pulls easily off of the bones, and it is coated in a thin but tasty layer of crispy breading.

Finger Lickin' Good

Though Scott Conant feared he would be criticized by the fried chicken faithful for advocating a bird sans skin, Mama Els' Recipe chicken is so scrumptious that one doesn't even notice the skin is missing.  It is so good, in fact, that at the end of our meal, Vodka procures two more pieces to take home for "dinner" (and proceeds to eat them an hour later).

Please, Sir, I Want Some More

Living up to the hype of the chicken itself is the selection of side dishes, each of which is more mouth-watering than the next.  The cole slaw is much more crispy than soggy, as the cabbage has merely been "dressed" in the dressing, rather than smothered.  Ginger, a cole slaw fan in all seasons, mops it up with the enthusiasm of a child at a backyard barbeque.

A Hearty Cup of Slaw

Similarly outstanding is the corn salad, which is both slightly sweet and vaguely spicy, due to a proliferation of ingredients that we like but don't necessarily recognize.  The corn itself is a deep yellow and highlighted by juicy red tomatoes and crisp scallions, among other less obvious components.  It proves to be Vodka's vegetable of choice ("I love a corn"), and she devours it as if it were grown in her home Garden State of New Jersey.

Why Does the Word "Corny" Have Such a Negative Connotation with Masterpieces Like This to Its Name?

And finally: the pimento macaroni and cheese.  Holy mother of macaroni, this dish is ridiculous.

And We Mean Ridiculous in the Best Way Possible

Thick spiral noodles clutch mounds of gooey, slightly tangy pimento cheese, and it rivals some of the best macaroni and cheese we have ever tasted (and we know our way around a macaroni and cheese, Kraft or otherwise).  Sadly, this dish is not yet an everyday item, as it was listed as a special on the menu board, but its popularity should hopefully make it a fixture on the menu.

A Yellow Color Palate

The biscuit, which in this meal, seems almost an afterthought, is flaky and appealing, if less showy than all of the other food before us.  It tastes of enough butter to make Paula Deen proud, and it is more scone-like in look and texture than biscuits we have had in the past (a slab of fresh butter and Vodka's go-to salt shaker probably would have made it delectable).

Not Your Dog's Biscuit

And as if all of that eating weren't enough, we have the slice of banana cream pie with which to contend.  First of all, the pie is a thing of beauty: a light, thin crust holding together an overflowing layer of banana pudding and topped by droplets of fresh whipped cream.  It is a masterpiece, and its taste is just as satisfying.  The banana cream itself tastes almost identical to the banana pudding served at Magnolia Bakery, but it is enhanced by both the mildly sweet crust and the whipped cream.

Four and Twenty Bananas Baked in a Pie

Hill Country Chicken: you done good.

A Scene from Overeaters Anonymous

By the time we manage to get through our whole large box of wine, our meal has been long over, and we are back to discussing Ginger's favorite poet laureate: Ke$ha.  (Having performed a Ke$ha karaoke number after a few too many boxes of wine weeks ago, Ginger is fuzzy on the details as to what she actually sang, but she tells Vodka, "I wish you had been there for my drunken karaoke of Ke$ha."  This statement leads Vodka to retort, "I wish YOU had been there for your drunken karaoke of Ke$ha.")

Unfortunately, It Had Been Another Evening Spent with Boxed Wine, Spilled or Otherwise

Ginger continues to sing along to the country masters as we accidentally stumble into Eataly and Vodka gets lost (vowing to herself to save the fried chicken in her bag above all else).  If this afternoon has taught us anything, it is this: if given the choice, ALWAYS go with the large box of wine.

Hill Country Chicken's Mama Els' Recipe Chicken: 5 stars*

*Certifiable Best Thing We Ever Ate