Our bit of sitting down turned into an unplanned nap, and we weren't ready to go again until 10pm - which settled the question of whether we were going to impose on the Roadfood team. So we sought out something particularly close to the hotel. We considered K-Paul's, of which we'd heard great things, but waiting for a table there would have required forty-five minutes of standing. So we went down the street to The Original Pierre Maspero's, which (a) had a few tables available, and (b) tickled a memory: The Original Pierre Maspero's had won the oyster po-boy competition at the World's Largest Oyster Po-Boy. So with that much recommendation, we gave it a try.
(A side comment: I would think that a restaurant named "The Original Pierre Maspero's" that had a history section on its menu would mention someone named Maspero in that history.)
Lori ordered the roast beef po-boy. She didn't even try eating it with her hands; it was clearly a knife-and-fork po-boy.
I asked about the competition-winning po-boy. I thought it would be the Hot and Blue Oyster Po-Boy listed on their menu ("Fried Oyster Po Boy dressed with tobasco mayo and blue cheese crumbles"), but the waiter informed me that he'd have to ask the chef, because only the chef knew exactly how it was made. But I'd missed the Pierre Maspero's moment at the World's Largest Oyster Po-Boy, so I did not know just what I'd ordered.
What I got: light, crisp fried oysters on top of artichoke bottoms and creamed spinach, all topped with a spicy mayonnaise that was probably the tobasco mayo of the menu-listed po-boy. It was sumptuous and delicious, certainly a legitimate contender for the po-boy prize.
(This was the third time on this trip that I ordered something that wasn't obviously available. The first time was ordering the chicken bon femme at Tujague's; the second was asking for the cherry apricot almond turtles at Turtle Alley Chocolates that Hallie hadn't had room to put out on display. Ordering off-the-menu items makes me feel like an elite foodie, but it also makes me feel some ire on behalf of those who wouldn't have the same opportunity to learn of secret orderables.)
The menu mentions peaches and raisins in the bread pudding, but all I remember of the flavor is the white chocolate sauce.
Afterwards, we strolled to Jackson Square in hopes that Lori might get a psychic reading. We didn't find a mystic that suited her fancy, but we did find a very nifty busker performing upon an informal glass armonica.