1 /5 Ben Mcpherson: Now I ain’t one to gripe much in writing, and Lord knows I’ve eaten enough po’ boys at Darrell’s in my life to be considered something of a professional in the matter. In fact, there may not be a better sandwich on the planet than a well-done Surf & Turf from Darrell’s in Lake Charles. That’s not just my opinion — everybody I know who travels the I-10 corridor agrees: it’s a rite of passage, a must-stop, a Louisiana institution sandwiched between road miles and bayous.
But here’s the thing: I’ve had three — count ’em, three — separate strange, disappointing experiences at the Jennings location, and it’s got me scratching my head and finally putting pen to paper.
On this particular day, I was headed from Texas to the beach in Bama. I timed it just right — i was driving past Jennings right at 11:15 according to the gps, Lake Charles wasn’t open yet, and Jennings was right off the road. Easy. I called in my order around 10:55: one Surf & Turf, one Darrell’s Special. Should’ve been simple. But the woman on the phone kept talking over me, insisting on finishing my order before I could say it. Like I’d walked into a conversation that didn’t need me. Still, I stayed patient — let her recite my own order back to me until we got it right.
Now here’s where the story turns Forrest-Gump-weird. I pull up to the drive-thru window, and just before it opens, my cat — my traveling buddy — decides to jump from the backseat to the passenger floorboard. The lady sees the movement and gets a wide-eyed look like she just caught me burying a secret. She opens the window and says, “Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone what you’re up to.” I laugh, thinking this is one of those oddball Louisiana moments you just roll with. I tell her it was just my cat jumping up front. Deadpan, she says again, this time like I’d just committed a felony: “Sir, we will not call anyone. You are okay.”
So now I’m sitting there feeling like I’m in a David Lynch version of a Cajun deli commercial, just wanting my sandwich and to get back on the road. She hands me the bag. I drive off.
And here’s the kicker — the food is all wrong. The Surf & Turf had no roast beef. None. And the shrimp didn’t even have seasoning. It was like someone dropped a scoop of plain boiled shrimp onto bread and called it a day. I’ve eaten enough Darrell’s to know what it’s supposed to be, and this wasn’t even close.
Look, I get it — not every place hits a home run every time. But this was strike three at the Jennings location. And I’ve even emailed about past experiences before, trying to give the benefit of the doubt. But enough is enough. It’s not just the wrong order — it’s the vibe. Bizarre service, inattentiveness, and a total miss on what should be one of the best po’ boys in the South.
I’ll still stop at Lake Charles every time I can. That place has never let me down. But Jennings? Well… like Mama said, “Sometimes, you gotta know when to just eat the chips and keep driving.
