Shrimp Po' Boys

I would marry me. 

Well, there’s been quite a lot of chatter around sandwiches in the blogosphere this week, hasn’t there? Stephanie Smith, New York Post writer and creator of 300sandwiches.com decided to share with the world the perhaps ill-thought out “hilarious and cute” story of how her boyfriend said she was 300 sandwiches away from an engagement ring. As in, “Isn’t this story so funny? Eric woke up this morning and questioned why I hadn’t made him a sandwich yet, since I had already been up for 15 minutes!” We all have that friend. You sort of laugh, and shift uncomfortably in your seat while thinking to yourself, “Oh sweet Jesus.” (Full disclosure: I cannot get past this man’s hair. Something about it disturbs me deeply, so I’m actually probably even more judgmental about it than I should be.)

I have friends who insisted this was clearly satire. I have friends who insisted this set the woman’s movement back 100 years. I’ve read the hilarious responses, I’ve analyzed the critiques. Now, we all know I identify myself with the f-word, so my thoughts tend to lean towards to “WHAT THE HELL?” side of the argument, but again, I also have that hair bias.

This one is not 300 Sandwiches worthy, because the lettuce is dangling out, and that's a no-no.

Smith has since responded, which crushed my dreams that this was perhaps an incredible art commentary on feminism and culture, and has in fact confirmed that she really is planning to marry a man who calls her “babes” (ughhhhhhhhh) and does, in fact, intend to make 300 sandwiches, (and probably thousands more, since this Eric fellow she wishes to spend a lifetime with has an insatiable appetite for various buns and breads) and all for a man who obviously charms himself with his own jokes a little more than he ought to. He is wildly amused by the feedback they received, because he says this was a “tongue planted firmly in cheek” joke. But I suspect he is just doing damage control because in the first article, we are told he is a man who likens sandwiches to sex, and sees them as love (“To him, sandwiches are like kisses or hugs. Or sex.”) I like a good prosciutto as much as the next girl, but let’s not confuse palate pleasure with lust. (Okay, feel free to insert a good salami joke here).

In her response, she states that OBVIOUSLY he was just JOKING when he asked her to make him hundreds of sandwiches in order to get a big, shiny, rock; but of course she is going to do it and blog about it ANYWAY because that is LOVE, people. HA-HA-HA-HA. Right? Love! So cute. I personally am looking forward to the current saccharinely sweet sandwiches to fade to sarcastic and sardonic sandwiches after years of having to slice tomatoes and assorted cheeses, but don’t get me wrong- this is not some embittered old hag thing (well not and old hag thing, anyway). I like love just as much as the next person. I love to cook, and I certainly love to cook when in the presence of male company. The end-goal is not marriage however. The end-goal is a full stomach, many compliments to feed my already over-sized ego, and perhaps someone to load the dishwasher after. (Ha-ha not really! Do not touch my dishwasher. I am the only one to touch the dishwasher.)

One thing the Internet does agree on however is that this blog has some seriously gorgeous sandwiches. The food porn reigns on this site, that’s for sure. I may even be a little jealy.com of her food photography. So, despite the backlash over her basically living as a meme, I have been inspired to make a sandwich for dinner today. (NB: The only lucky recipient of my sandwich skills will be me. And maybe my dog if there is any leftover.)

Remoulade ingredients

Let’s make Shrimp Po’ Boys. I used the BonAppétit version of the sandwich and this recipe for the remoulade. But of course we all know I can’t follow instructions to save my life, (so, future suitors, do not instruct me to make you any amount of sandwiches for a ring). There were some amendments to each recipe.

Start by making your remoulade first. You’ll need:

            1/4 cup mustard

            1 1/4 cups mayo

            1 teaspoon lemon juice (my addition- this recipe needed some citrus)

            1 teaspoon hot sauce (I used Frank’s)

            1 large garlic clove, minced and smashed

            1 Tbsp sweet paprika

            1-2 teaspoons Cajun seasoning

I clearly did not measure mine, I am just telling you what the Simply Recipes people suggest. I also added a good-sized dash of Old Bay. Whisk up all those ingredients in a bowl and put it in the fridge. You are welcome to let it mellow for a few hours before you assemble the sandwiches.

Now for the shrimp batter. Start by seasoning your shrimp with the following:

Salt

Cayenne

Garlic Powder

Paprika

Oregano (this is optional because I didn’t have any and     it turned out just fine)

Thyme

Onion powder (also I had none of this, but life went on)

When deep frying in the most dangerous way possible, I recommend keeping everything close. 

Then, I made the shrimp batter with beer, flour and Old Bay, plus a little panko for texture. Mix this together until it’s the consistency of pancake batter. Too thin will not work, so add your beer slowly.

Shrimp and beer. 

Heat some oil until a drop of batter will sizzle right away in the pot. They only need to be fried for about two minutes, until they come to the top of the pot of oil. Give them a quick flip for colour on all sides. Then drain on a paper towel.

Slice a nice bun and put your remoulade on both sides of the bun (Stephanie Smith credits this revolutionary technique in her first sandwich ever, aka the Sandwich That Ruined Feminism.) Serve with iceberg lettuce (I realize this has the nutritional equivalent of Styrofoam, but it has a great crunch) and some tomato. A little hot sauce on the side and a squeeze of lemon, and you have yourself a sandwich which should at least get you a fourth date (you surely are not cooking at home for a first or second date- what kind of girl are you?!). Bow down, bitches.