Ham and Cheese

Though a stalwart on every po'boy menu in New Orleans, the ham and cheese is, more often than not, passed over for the flashier fried shrimp or more substantive roast beef. In my estimation the po'boy's roots were probably in ham and cheese, as these items sliced would have been plentiful and easy to assemble during the time of the streetcar operators' strike, when the po'boy first appeared on the sandwich scene.

The ham and cheese has always been my favorite, if only because I am a fan of the underdog. It illustrates a point I always try to make with my cooks: Chicken is how you measure a chef's true talent. Anyone can look like a rock star with a rack of lamb, but it takes a rock star to create something memorable out of chicken. Likewise, a decently fried oyster can pass, and a poorly cooked roast can be disguised with a nicely seasoned gravy, but there is nowhere to hide with the simple ham and cheese combo.

On this note, I am happy to inform you that New Orleans has a new sheriff, and his name is Ben Wicks. Owner and very much chef of Mahony's Po-Boy Shop on Magazine Street, Ben is exploring the roots of the po'boy and injecting life into a sandwich that many have gotten lazy with in the past couple of decades. Ingredients are local and many of the recipes are his family's own, as opposed to the giant food house, pre-fab offerings you find elsewhere. On my inaugural trip, I had the Barqs-glazed ham and swiss, fried shrimp, and a hot sausage, and all three are topping my current lists of bests. I'll be back to work my way through the other fifteen or so po'boys as soon as I can.