Catfish is a much more po-boy-conducive fish, but I had to experience firsthand the possibility a $4.59 poboy this long...
The poboys here are long as my arm, or more scientifically, three Goya soda cans in length. The bread is at the right balance of spongy and crispy, seasoned right, dressed right and big as my arm. Trout is a bit greasy for this situation, as one might imagine, but adventure reaps its own rewards. My co-worker swapped halves with his shrimp po-poy which was equally bounteous. Despite it looking like the teeming birth spot of all things good and batter-fried, I prefer less and bigger shrimp. That point of contention did not prevent me in any way of eating my half.
Plus, Goya drinks! and a giant sandwich on the sign! and meat pies right next the corn dogs and the fried okra, luminous under the heat lamp Prometheus stole from the gods so that we mortals may know The Way!
I like anyplace that has a variety of meat boxes for sale and think a matted and hung display of the hand-lettered signs describing the varieties offered at this nondescript Nicholson Drive convenience store should be entered as the Louisiana delegate to some high-profile art biennial. I would suggest titling the exhibition "Cobra Special"
And now for the meat porn.
