Favog passes along this wonderful tribute to a Baton Rouge institution. The Fleur de Lis is far more than a neighborhood pizza joint. It is one of the last remaining vestiges of Old Baton Rouge. Excerpt:

Pizza might be the most personal of all the food groups. Everyone has their favorite and can make a well-considered case for it being the best. Mine is the Fleur de Lis. My wife still makes fun of me behind my back about the time I took her all the way to Baton Rouge to eat pizza.

When the restaurant first opened right after World War II, this part of Baton Rouge wasn’t even Baton Rouge. Before Mama and Papa Guercio bought it, the Fleur de Lis had been a bar, with some shelves for groceries. What is now a bleak stretch of Government Street was gravel back then.

The parking lot remains gravel, and your tires crunch when you swing in. Old trees hang on the lot line. The windows are covered tight, no light coming in or out, and the neon sign always seems a bit blurry, as if seen through the rain. One sign says “Air Conditioned.” I cannot stress how big a deal this is in Baton Rouge in July.

The door is thick, with a sign. No checks. No credit cards. Just cash. The nearest ATM is a few blocks away on the left if you forget. The light is dim. The jukebox is old-school. There’s pinball. Low ceilings. The beer is cold, and those glasses fit wonderfully in the palm of your hand. Even if there wasn’t anything to eat, this would be an all-timer.

Read the whole thing.  Can’t wait to take my kids there once we move back next month! I bet you have a Fleur de Lis where you live. Tell us about it.