I wrote a chapter-shaped love poem about Port of Call (Sir Chapter 13) in New Orleans. I've been to a lot of restaurants in New Orleans, most of them simply outstanding, but push-comes-to-shove, Port of Call is at the top of my favorites list.   First, it’s a damned good hamburger. And this is coming from someone who doesn’t really like hamburgers. Second, baked potatoes piled obscenely high with cheese, butter, and sour cream. Need I say more? Third <drumroll ...

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