For much of my childhood I struggled to comply with Mother's wishes. But despite my best intentions, I could never bring myself to eat cauliflower. By age 12, my disgust had grown so great that I took to calling it "albino broccoli."

And then, during the winter of my 18th year, I made my first pilgrimage to the holy city of southern food: New Orleans. Emboldened by bucketfuls of cheap draft beer, I ate my way across the French Quarter. I wolfed down po-boys. I slurped down oysters. I ate crawfish by the sack. I sucked the head; I ate the tail. I was ready for anything -- except cauliflower.

But, sitting at the counter at Central Grocery on Decatur Street, that's just what I found, lurking amidst the olives, garlic, peppers, carrots, capers, parsley, celery and onions that crowned my muffuletta sandwich. I couldn't feign disgust. After all, I had spent the last 15 minutes raving about what a great sandwich this was. It was time to face the fact: I had eaten cauliflower, and I had liked it.

Created in 1906 by Sicilian immigrant Salvatore Lupo, the muffuletta gets its name from a round, seeded loaf of bread, indigenous to Sicily. According to Lupo family lore, Salvatore Lupo, the proprietor of Central Grocery, first made the sandwich for some of the local workers who stopped in his shop each afternoon to get the ingredients for a four-course meal: meats, cheese, olive relish and bread. Lupo combined their four-course meal into sandwich form. Today the sandwich is made of ham, salami, provolone cheese and olive relish and served on the same round, seeded muffuletta loaf.

Since my first trip, I have consumed many a muffuletta, and by extension many a cauliflower floret. My mother is happy, and I am resigned. Albino broccoli or not, they are now a constant of my New Orleans diet.

Recently, I spent three days in New Orleans, eating muffulettas morning, noon and night. Though it seems like every place in town claims to serve "New Orleans Best Muffuletta," the five restaurants that follow serve distinguished versions of this Creole classic.

By the way, lest you worry, almost every one of these sandwiches is topped with a heaping helping of cauliflower. I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Napoleon House, 500 Chartres St., serves the best sit-down muffuletta in the French Quarter. Though the olive relish is diced a bit too fine for my taste, the meats are of good quality and the bread is warm and forgiving -- all the better to soak up the fragrant, garlic-infused olive oil that seems to ooze out with every bite. Built in 1797 as a refuge for Napoleon, this cool, dark bar provides a welcome respite from the hectic pace of life in the Quarter. (504-524-9752)

Liuzza's (pronounced Leye-oot-zas) is a bit off the beaten path in Mid-City. And, to tell the truth, they don't even serve a muffuletta. Instead, they serve a Frenchuletta. Combine this French bread-encased version of the classic with an order of fried sweet potatoes and an icy glass of draft beer for an exceptional meal, far from the maddening mass of tourists. One last word: Beware the Pizzauletta. It's a recent menu addition and not up to the same standards as the sandwich. (3636 Bienville St., 504-482-9120 )

Muffuletta Alley Along a short, one block section of Decatur Street, three establishments vie for the title of muffuletta king: Central Grocery, Progress Grocery and Frank's Restaurant. Of these, only Frank's is easily dismissed; the other two are worthy of some comparative eating. My advice? Pick up a half muffuletta from both Central and Progress and then adjourn to nearby Jackson Square for a bout of taste testing.

Which is better? Though my heart is still with Central, of late, Progress has begun to win over my stomach. (Central Grocery, 923 Decatur St., 504-523-1620. Progress Grocery, 915 Decatur St., 504-525-6627)

Favalora's Arabi Park Food Store Though this neighborhood dive sells a fine muffuletta, the real treasure, buried deep within their encyclopedic menu, is the Roman sandwich. The folks at Favalora's cover a half loaf of French bread with sliced ham, salami, cheese and, in a feat of gustatory excess, a half dozen or so marinated artichoke hearts. As improbable as it sounds, this combination of meat, cheese and vegetables makes a great sandwich. My hunch is that they gild the muffuletta lilly by pouring a little of the artichoke marinade over each sandwich. (Favalora's is at 1900 Mehle Ave. in suburban Arabi, a 15-minute ride from the French Quarter out Claiborne Avenue 504-271-6311)

Well, that's it for now. Did I miss a magnificent muffuletta along the way? Drop me a line. I'll treat the bearer of the best muffuletta tip to a free sandwich on my next New Orleans trip.

Step right up and try a Frenchuletta at Liuzza's.(Photos by John T. Edge)

Want some more info? John T. lists his favorite off-the-beaten-path eating and drinking establishments in New Orleans.