Published July 16, 2026 at 4:10 PM CDT

Cross chicken fried steak with a po-boy. Or take a clutch of hot tamales, the New Orleans style, all spicy and oily, and turn that into a po-boy.
And how about a hot sausage po-boy so spicy it comes with a heat advisory?

What are these, the creation of some new pop-up? Or are they just more wild, eye-grabbing mashups trending on Instagram but not fit for reality?

Emphatically no. They’re three examples of po-boy shop house specials I’ve revisited recently while digging into a sub niche of the New Orleans po-boy world.

It’s the one that exists not in New Orleans itself actually, but next-door in Jefferson Parish, where much of old New Orleans has found the habitat to persevere, playing to a local audience almost exclusively.

These sandwiches were all emblematic of backstreet shops that each have loyal followings, but are practically invisible unless you already know they are there.

The chicken fried steak po-boy? That’s from Parenton’s, a restaurant that’s about the size of a one-car garage from the days when cars were made smaller. It’s on a side street off Jefferson Highway and tucked behind another po-boy shop -- that would be Central Po-boys, which is also very good in its own right.

Parenton’s though, has a special place in my heart for the personality baked into the clubhouse-like confines and the specials. Chicken fried steak is on each Thursday. I’m also a big fan of the everyday oyster po-boy. Dress mine with butter and pickles only please.

The hot tamale po-boy came from Guillory’s Deli two blocks off Airline Drive on an otherwise residential street. Fried chicken plate lunches and more conventional po-boys are the stock in trade as are hot tamales, which local devotees with long food memories will favorably compare for the old Manuel’s Hot Tamales of yore. Of course these made the leap to a po-boy special, itturns out the French bread can handle even this much juice, and there was no looking back.

And finally, that hotter-than-hot sausage po-boy comes from Radosta’s, well-hidden off Metairie Road. The sausage patties are made in house and sing with a multi-pepper heat you won’t forget anytime soon.

The latest thrill? It’s not always a viral trend. Sometimes it’s just old school New Orleans know how at back street suburban joints.