Dear Friends,

On July 18, 1988, “The Food Show” with Tom Fitzmorris hosting aired on WSMB for the first time. He had bounced around on air for the previous few years after graduating from college, but this was the date when it all rolled together. That 10-12 radio shift, taking over from Andre Laborde, was to become the city’s most important on air hours. It was an immediate hit, expanding to four hours within its first year on air, and has remained the longest running food radio show in world history. We celebrate 35 years of greatness today.

Like an 1868 Irish stevedore tossing bales of cotton at the port, the legendary Fitzmorris chiseled his own path through the cobblestone streets of the Irish Channel. Born on Mardi Gras, 1951, Fitzmorris has that rare pedigree of being a Rummel, Jesuit, and UNO alumnus. He married his former boss, and now co-host, Mary Ann Connell at St. Mary’s Assumption Church just seven months later on February 11, 1989.

His sharp wit, encyclopedic knowledge, and high brow comedy gained him many enemies over the years. Some called him Mr. Food, but his detractors came up with contumelious cognomens such as Mr. Rude and Tom Fatzmorris. And even yet, he more than trudged along – he triumphed for decades, singing on air, sharing turkey brining recipes, infuriating chefs whose restaurants received honest reviews, debating on Nazi submarines in the Gulf, hosting food clubs, and writing books and newsletters. In short, he formed, guided, and summarized over 40 years of New Orleans food.

Mr. Fitzmorris, though, has never suffered fools. If you stated something that was wrong, he was quick to the point: “You are wrong,” he would say. If you called him and asked for a restaurant’s phone number, he was not going to coddle you. “Go look in a phonebook,” he would reply. He had important business to discuss and if you were going to ask a stupid question, he was going to give back what you deserved.

I remember once calling him in 2003 to discuss sweet tea’s invasion of New Orleans. Part of my hypothesis included LSU’s football championship softening the traditional dislike many native New Orleanians held against LSU and things Baton Rouge. He responded, “LSU still has a football team?” His brilliance on air was unparalleled in those days.

One of my favorite memories comes from 2005 or 2006. We were jettisoned from the city as most were and had found a way to listen to Tom's show, which was as essential to New Orleanians in those days as air. It was around Christmas and he was hosting a competition. "Can you sing a Christmas song better than I can," Tom asked. "Call in now: 260-WSMB" (I think that number is correct." Well, Mother took up the cause and before I knew it, she was belting out "The Twelve Yats of Christmas" in her angelic voice. I had no idea she even knew the song. Mr. Fitzmorris was spellbound, almost as if he had heard Katherine Jenkins' rendition of Hallelujah. After ten seconds of silence, Mr. Fitzmorris, proclaimed, "That was the most glorious singing of that song I have ever had. Treat yourself and your son to a dinner at Vincent's on St. Charles."

He infuriated those who thought they knew it all by showing them he knew more about food than they did. Never embraced by the food critics in the city, Mother tells me former Picayune critic, Gene Bourg, was not a fan. I do not think that the TP’s Sumi Hahn, whose time here was a disastrous experiment, even knew who he was. And I cannot recall Brett Anderson ever writing once from 2000 to 2019 about the most important name in New Orleans food other than briefly mentioning Fitzmorris’ monumental open restaurant list after Katrina, all while Anderson and the Picayune were AWOL from 2005-2008. But behind his outward arrogance, Fitzmorris has always been a humble man who simply wanted to share knowledge about New Orleans food.

A student of Richard Collin, also an outsider to New Orleans food circles, the historian instilled in the young Privateer a love of the past and finding the greatness of New Orleans food among the working class. Yes, New Orleans has its great dames, but its proletariat foods, such as poorboys and muffalettas, were just as deserving of inquiry and discussion as Galatorie’s crab maison or trout meuniere amandine.

He never boot licked a certain neighborhood crowd, and for that some begrudged him. Fitzmorris has always been a pan-New Orleans diner and wanted to highlight Metairie as much as Marigny and Gretna as much as the Quarter. As such some of the most important chefs in New Orleans history, like Gerard Crozier and Warren LeRuth proudly advertised receiving four stars from Fitzmorris much more loudly than receiving four beans from The Picayune’s Bourg. More recently he has gained praise from such giants as Emeril Lagasse who has called him “the best reporter” on New Orleans food today. And he was at one time good friends with Chef Paul Prudhomme, who famously staged a photo pouring sauce on Tom’s head in the courtyard at Commander’s. A stamp of approval from Fitzmorris is gold to local food lovers, even if they cannot stand Fitz.

James Carville once said, “No city restaurant critic in U.S. history has written more, eaten more, or knows more of their cuisine than Tom Fitzmorris.” Quite simply, Tom Fitzmorris is the most important food critic and historian in American history. His papers and correspondence will one day find a place in one of our university’s special collections (I have been petitioning Delgado to take up this cause for years). The consummate gentleman whose roast beef gravy voice has at the same time entertained and educated three generations of New Orleanians, Tom Fitzmorris deserves every jumbo lump of praise we can give him. God has blessed us with his voice and word. Thank you.

This post was edited on 7/17/23 at 9:14 pm