The po’ boy is just a sandwich. Yet somehow it stands apart from others in the pantheon of American comfort.

Bacon lettuce and tomato, a club sandwich, the tuna melt -- none can match the appeal. Perhaps only the burger, or regional favorites like the Philly cheesesteak, achieve the same level of devotion.

The versatility of the sandwich explains much of its popularity. Fontenot’s Po’ Boys in Fulton lists 13 different options, including crawfish, catfish, andouille and gator alongside staples like roast beef and smoked turkey.

Fried oyster is a bayou favorite. Fontenot’s serves it dressed -- piled with shredded lettuce, sliced tomatoes and pickles -- on bread that is downy yet firm enough to stand up to the filling.

It’s a bright, fresh sandwich. Bursts of sweet tomato contend with the brisk snap of pickle. Lettuce adds a light, grassy patter that softens the remoulade’s bite.

In this sunny garden the oysters are a bit lost. Fontenot’s kitchen was a bit stingy for a sandwich known for its heft. Yet when you encounter an oyster the moment is captivating.

A musty sensation swells, layered with a mineralic quality and a waft of salt marsh. The freshness of the dressing becomes more intense.

Other sandwiches have this ability to hold your attention, to layer flavors so deftly your mind clears of any other awareness. So there must be an additional reason for the po’ boys’ reputation.

Maybe the name?

Some say the term was first used in 1929 during a streetcar workers strike. Owners of the Martin Brothers restaurant reportedly promised to feed striking laborers free of charge and would greet their arrival with “here comes another poor boy.”

But that’s a bit too tidy.

Jazz legend Sidney Bechet recalled in his autobiography the time he played a gig with a young Louis Armstrong. The memory predated America’s entry into World War I and didn’t net them much in the way of cash.

“We went out and bought some beer with the money and got those sandwiches, Poor Boys, they’re called ... We really had good times.”

James Karst of the Times-Picayune reports that mentions of sandwiches similar to the po’ boy date back before the Civil War. He points out that a restaurateur named Andrew Battistella referred to himself as the “originator of the Poor Boy’s sandwich” in a 1931 newspaper ad.

Karst uncovered an interesting lead. In the ad, Battistella listed his phone number as Main 1407, a number that had previously belonged to real estate agent Armstrong Donaldson.

“Donaldson ran his own advertisements in the local papers in the 1910s and 1920s,” Karst wrote. “He signed them ‘A. Donaldson, poor man’s agent.’ ”

Every great sandwich has a few good stories behind it.