After a trip to the MoMA and with Cara in need of a shrimp-poboy fix, we went to the Delta Grill in Manhattan. I’d been there before and wasn’t immediately offended. Cara had been there before and found the poboys passable.
The good news: They are passable. The shrimp are a little small and mushy, but they get the overall thing right. French bread, plenty of fried shrimp, lettuce, tomato, mayo (and pickles). If you’re from Louisiana and might snap and neck-stab someone and it’s months before the next trip home, this might get you through.
They also serve Abita. Also good.
Now, the hushpuppies. Not sure what was going on there. Maybe they use beignet dough? Corn-flour instead of corn-meal? They weren’t sad and awful like those at Brooklyn Fish Camp, but they were … weirdly sweet, almost like a dessert. (If you want hush puppies, go to Van Horn in Brooklyn).
Before the poboys, I ordered a cup of seafood gumbo. How should I put this? It was an abomination before the lord.
Tomato based. Not a hint of roux that I could see. Okra seeds in evidence, but oddly no actual okra? It didn’t taste awful, but it wasn’t gumbo. Further, there seemed to be a general lack of “giving a shit.” The celery had been cut into chunks about the size of my palm. Pro-tip guys: Your chopped vegetables shouldn’t be bigger than the seafood.
Would I go back. Eh. Probably. If I were in the neighborhood and wanted a poboy.
KEN WHEATON 