Chris L.
Yelp
Having recently moved into a place a couple of blocks from the Rampart Food Store, it was just a matter of time before my culinary curiosity kicked in. My first time in, I was greeted by a row of dusty seasonings, vegetable oils, and a very cute small child who turned around, saw me, and exclaimed, "WHOOAA!" and smiled really big. I guess he wasn't used to seeing ghostly pale guys with long black hair, but I though it was cute. A quick perusal of the store and its merchandise made me think this was the NOLA equivalent of the bodega from "Half Baked." Then I remembered why I came in. Oh yeah, food. I ordered a couple of burgers, took them home, ate them, and thought, "Wow. That kinda sucked, but for $3 a piece, not too terrible." But while I was waiting for the food to cook, I noticed a NY Times article on the wall that recommended the shrimp po-boy. Mental note: taken. Diana C. already linked the article, so I don't have to.
So, I returned a few days later to try this po-boy. After all, there's no excuse for the NY Times to know more about po-boys in my 'hood than I do. This settled the debate regarding who makes the best po-boys: Italians or Cajuns. Turns out it's Asians. My love of Cajun Seafood on Claiborne already informed me that Asians boil some mean crawfish, but po-boys too? Casians, maybe, or is that wishful thinking from my partly Cajun self? That shrimp po-boy has been described ad nauseum in the other reviews, so I'll just mention how exciting it is to have such a great sammich a couple of blocks from my pad for only $6. This trip was even more amusing. The store was mostly dark. Some guy came in and asked why the lights were off, and the cashier said in broken English, "It save money."
The customer, apparently a regular visitor, asked, "Didn't pay the light bill? You know they cut 'em off when you don't pay the bill."
"No. Power no off. See? Cooler on. We just save money." That's awesome.
But wait! There's more! There was also a young woman wandering around the whole time I was waiting trying to buy as much as she could for as little as possible. She went to the order window and selected which piece of chicken she wanted, bought it, and continued to shop and inquire about prices at the top of her voice. She pointed to an Ohana soda and asked how much it was.
"79 cents," I said less to be helpful than to be snarky. The price is printed in large print near the top of the can.
She repeated the question until the cashier replied, "82 cent."
"He said 79 cent. I like his price better."
Now thoroughly amused, I remarked that I didn't include sales tax. HAHA. I love this place. Once again, this place is cash only. What does this city have against plastic anyway?