To be fair, the world is filled with world class food cities, and it would be cruel to ask anyone to choose only one as a favorite. To wit, there’s Sevilla for its undying dedication to siesta, when all of the offices shut in the middle of the day, and every lawyer, postman and teacher spills out onto the streets for wine and tapas; the Italian Riviera and Naples for their unparalleled dedication to pizza so fine it provokes you stare at your plate in astonishment; the Yucatan for magical street food wonders packed in banana leaves that would put any fancy chef to shame. I could go on.
   
But New Orleans is a city in particular that has forever more captured my heart, and anyone with a wanderlust has had this feeling at least once: “I’m home.” If weren’t for that pesky sense of responsibility, you would drop everything, sell the couch with the cats still on it, and run away. It’s the the Europe meets Africa meets Carib of the place, the fact that my breath gets caught in my chest each time I turn a corner with the beauty of it all, the characters of a caliber you’ll find no where else on earth, the near-religious devotion to the sacred/ profane-- the understanding that one does not exist without the other.

And, of course, the food, food, food. (And drink.) I won’t rehash here what you should already know—if you’re American, you already know about jambalaya, Muffalettas, gumbo, beignets, oysters and the rest. And if you don’t, they’re still playing back to back repeats of Emeril somewhere on cable TV land. Instead, like anywhere else, the best food comes around unexpected bends, on the opposite side of the beaten path, and usually where poor folks live and work. Want to eat well? Don’t walk, but run away from your hotel, from the main drag, from flashing lights and starched tablecloths. If you aren’t fortunate enough to know someone in the area (always the best way) locate someone who is obviously interested in food (a butcher, a baker, a waiter, a cook) and ask where she would be eating tonight. Now, you should be on to something.



If you care to know about the history and cultural importance of Willie Mae’s fried chicken, you can check out this supurb ten minute video. I can’t tell the story any better. My closest friends, recent transplants to New Orleans, list fried chicken as their favorite food on the planet. Death row meal and all that—fried chicken with collards, every time.



Now. Despite what I may have said about Favor Café in the February issue of Metro, Minneapolis has nothing that even touches this chicken, and nor does the rest of the country. I tried Strouds in Kansas City, and while that may be the second best fried chicken I’ve ever eaten, even it doesn’t come within miles of Willie Mae’s. I hope starts to illustrate how superior this food is.

Without going on too much more, let me just say that Willie Mae’s turned this former non-fried-chicken-lover into a convert. So juicy, even the wing meat is fall-off-the-bone tender, and the batter, which resembles tempura, is so crisp it nearly shatters like glass when you bite. I can’t begin to know what she uses for the robust seasoning, and if you watched the video, you know that the lady ain’t telling. The smoky, creamy red beans and rice were also the best version I’ve ever tasted, so don’t miss those either.



I promised only one top pick per road trip stop, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention this one. Because what says New Orleans like tacos? I’ve spent a good deal of time in Mexico, and I’m having a hard time fixing my fingers to type this, but here goes: I don’t think I’ve had a beter taco, outside or inside of Mexico. The corn tortillas were so delicately sturdy, the corn flavor so intense, I’m trying to figure out a way to have them shipped up north. The lengua (tongue) is like the meatiest beef you’ll ever hope to land on your own tongue—if you’re a steak eater I’d recommend hopping in your car now. In about twenty hours you’ll be in meaty bliss. You can find Los Poblanos taco cart in a gas station parking lot at 1610 Elysian Fields.

That is all. And speaking of beef- next stop, Okahoma City.