Po’ Canucks

We’ve entered a new realm of the culinary world having discovered the
Crab Burger Po’ Boy.

Because we are so thoroughly Canadian and have no sweet clue regarding local delicacies of the Southern United States*, we were unfamiliar with the Po’ Boy. Research was required and the results were very informative.

“The name ‘po-boy’ is, of course, a shortened version of ‘poor boy.’ The name stems from the fact that a po-boy used to be a very inexpensive way to get a very solid meal. (Extremely detailed description of exactly what qualifies as a po’ boy here.)
Po-Boys are a New Orleans version of a sandwich, but they’re not just any sandwich. You might be tempted to call them a hoagie or a sub, but don’t! A true Po-boy is made with crisp New Orleans French bread, piled high with your favorite delicacy: fried shrimp? Crispy oysters? Sliced roast beef dripping with rich brown gravy? Order them “dresseda” (with lettuce and tomatoes) or not. And don’t forget a splash of Tabasco and a dollop of Creole mustard.”

The pictures bordered on frightening.

The only reason we started down this road is the crab meat in the freezer that needed to be consumed. This recipe featured crab and seemed intriguing, new, a little ‘red neck’. Truth be told, we are both a tiny bit red neck ourselves (though Marc would rather die a thousand deaths than admit this). The fact is, through no fault of our own, we both were raised in Canadian-Texas (a.k.a. Alberta) and we can never escape our past. For example, I have been known to occasionally use “y’all” in a sentence and may or may not know all the words to AC~DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long”. Marc refers to ATVs as “quads” and he drinks rye. Plus, one half of his family is Acadian, which is just a stone’s throw from ‘Cajun.

Because we deviated from the recipe slightly and bought crusty buns instead of french bread, I would argue that our creations were more burger than po’boy. And frankly, I don’t consider crab meat to be terribly red-neck so, really, what we ended up with were more like fancy Filet o’ Fish sandwiches. I have to admit, though, that they were a little disappointing. They tasted just fine but with this recipe’s Louisiana roots, I was expecting more heat and frankly, more flavour. If we ever attempt a po’boy-type-sandwiches/burgers again, we should toss a little quebecois into the mix and make it a poutine affair: fries with cheese curds and gravy on french bread; guaranteed to cure any hangover.

* Once upon a time, my brother Geoff visited our Uncle Al in Galveston. Uncle Al took Geoff out for some real Texas BBQ which means that they drove to a trailer on the side of a country road which had a bunch of barbecues propped up near the back door. They went inside and ordered “2”.
Geoff followed Uncle Al to the food table where a woman wearing an apron ladled some BBQ onto his plate. Geoff, being a na├»ve Canadian, asked the woman what kind of meat was on his plate. She shrugged and said “I dunno. Parts is parts.” So they sat down on a bench at the one long table to eat. Geoff asked, “where are the vegetables?” A fellow at the table laughed at him and said “Vegetables? Vegetables?! Shoot, my favourite vegetable is fried chicken!”

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