Remove the Bilious Taste of Politics with a Po' Boy

It seemed like the perfect time to drum up a po boy type sandwich. Something that hearkens back to a time before voters are told they are voting using invisible ink. A time like, oh, Monday.

A task like that requires something substantial. Something with flavor. Something that wouldn't require a knife. In these dire days, we should avoid sharp objects. I'm thinking sandwich. I'm thinking fried stuff. I'm thinking spicy sauces. Po' boy. Let's do it.

I happen to have a few cans of clams laying around, courtesy of The Great Gourmet. Don't ask. Sometimes it's best not to ask. I can tell you, however, that these things are good. Nice, sweet, whole clams. I typically use them for a cocktail or a stew, but frying is the order of the day.



OK, stop ogling my steamers. I made a remoulade a day ahead of time, using a bit of mayo (ewwww! yuck! how could you?), celery, Mexican bulb onion, garlic, spicy mustard, cilantro, ketchup, lemon juice, Worcestershire (whew, that's a mouth full), hot sauce and salt and pepper. On the side, I did up a potato salad. On the potato salad, I managed to avoid mayo, thank god. Boiled up some red potatoes, then tossed them (skin on) with celery, scallion, pureed cottage cheese, plain yogurt, salt and pepper. It really worked out well.

I cracked that can and dredged the clams in flour, then egg mixture and finally in some panko bread crumbs. I added some creole seasoning to the flour for a bit of spice. Tossed those bad boys in some veggie oil for half a minute or so and there you go.

Finally, the sacred phase. The building of the sandwich (cue trumpets). Toasted bun - not too much, just enough to make the outside crisp. Bed of red leaf lettuce. Next, a layer of those golden fried clams. Top that with a tomato just hours away from being too ripe. Slather that remoulade over it all and cap it with the bun top.