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<![CDATA[New Orleans doesn't always fare well with Conde Nast writers. Case in point: native son Nicholas Lemann (son of Uptown lawyer Tommy Lemann and stepson of novelist Sheila Bosworth), who's been particularly nasty to his hometown on the pages of New Yorker. But this recent GQ article by Alan Richman clearly takes the king cake:

I’ve never had much luck eating in New Orleans. I might be the only person who disliked Uglesich’s, a beloved seafood joint where I once stood in line for an hour in wretched early October heat for a po’boy containing a miserly quantity of oysters so overcooked they were like marbles. I believe most of the profits made by that establishment came about because of its periodic threats to close, which inevitably brought a rush of business. Uglesich’s finally shut down last year, to everybody’s dismay but my own.

continued at GQ

Now, I know that New Orleans is far from perfect, and I’m more than happy to hear critiques of the city from people who know what they’re talking about. But when someone compares Creoles to non-existent “faerie folk, like leprechauns, rather than an indigenous race”, I think he deserves a swift kick to the nuts.

BTW, that article came to my attention via Pat Jolly, Gawker, and the Onion’s AV Club, which offers a delectable dissection of the piece.

And apologies to an especially dear friend at the New Yorker. You’re still a mensch in my book.

UPDATE: A considerate Metroblog reader pointed out this follow-up to the story, in which a New Orleans-based foodie interviews Richman by email. Despite being given the opportunity to clarify his arguments, Richman still comes across as a major dick.

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