Day 10: Son of a Gun, We’ll Have Some Fun on the Bayou!

Sorry to get so far behind here. As I am writing this, we’re back in ‘Bammy, heading northeast for the first time in nearly two weeks. Happily, the weather’s a little nicer than it was when we hit Birmingham the first time around.

I’d also like to apologize in advance for the fact that this posting is more or less all about food. We were in Louisiana, you understand. And we didn't take many pictures. We were too busy being in Louisiana.

We took off early. Said goodbye to JP, jumped in the car and made good time to the Mississippi border. Around noon, we were getting hungry, and Gabriel suggested barbecue. This naturally made me extremely happy, since I have been wary of overloading him with my personal gustatory passion/obsession, him not having been raised on meat. We decided that Maria’s betrayal may have been an anomaly, and we were willing to give her another shot, so we gamely typed “barbecue” in again, and found a list of places down the road. We set a course for the Rib Shack in Meridian.



Meridian, Mississippi, is not Paris. It’s not even Birmingham. The GPS pulled us off into what appeared to be the dustiest strip in a dusty town, and gave us the improbable command to turn right, toward the squalid train tracks. As we pulled up, we both remarked that this barbecue would either be incredible or inedible. Or, in all likelihood, the place would have closed three years ago. But up ahead in the distance, we saw a plume of smoke coming out of a concrete outbuilding. Showtime!

We parked the car and it was clear that this would be no strikeout. The place radiated the dark, seductive perfume of burning hickory inside and out, and there were paintings of happy pigs adorning the walls - classic barbecue iconography, but what they have to be happy about, I’m not quite sure.



(If I'd ever come up with a slogan this good when I was a copywriter, lo those many years ago, I'd be retired and living in the Dordogne by now)

Anyway, our sandwiches were excellent – true deep-south style, with a powerfully sweet sauce liberally clinging to the meat. But it was clear that meat, rub and sauce had all been prepared with expert skill and exquisite attention to detail, and in spite of the sweetness, they packed a huge amount of complex flavor into their small packages.

We got back on the road, full.

Crossing into southern Louisiana from any direction is cause for tremendous joy, as much because you’re leaving either South Mississippi or East Texas as because you’re coming into a completely unique and wonderful place. The air itself cooled as we crossed that border. We fished out my laptop and blasted “Gris Gris” by Dr. John, rolling down the road a good deal freer and lighter, bound for Cajun country.



(We took a wrong turn, hunting for a gas station. We found this church instead)

We got to Lafayette around 5:30 and stretched our legs at the Caffe Cottage, our venue for the evening. As a quick aside, Jeremiah McVay, Man in Gray drummer extraordinaire, completely hooked us up for his hometown, and we thank him profusely. He introduced us to his friend James Van Way, musician and booker at the Caffe (one of Lafayette’s most notable nightspots), set us up with sleeping arrangements through his friend Paige (indomitable riot, and drummer for the phenomenal Figs), and put his parents in touch with us, who very kindly offered to take us out for supper.

Jeremiah’s parents and sister met us at the Blue Dog Cafe, home of Louisiana artist George Rodrigue’s iconic Blue Dog. Dinner was, it goes without saying, fantastic. Cajun chefs really, really, really know how to cook, and this place was an excellent example of innovation mixed with tradition. There were crab wontons to start out the evening, essentially the perfect realization of Crab Rangoons, with the emphasis shifted to showcase the fresh Louisiana crustaceans. Then, of course, I had crawfish etouffee, which was every bit as rich and good as I had been craving, and Gabriel had crawfish enchiladas, which he reported to be excellent, but which I forgot to try in my fervor over the etouffee.

We got to the club, had a drink with James, met up with Paige, and then played some rock’n’roll. The audience was small but into it, and, as an added bonus, James, Paige and their friends recognized some of our more obscure covers (Townes, Big Star, Richard Thompson, John Prine). After my set, a fellow named Paul Papillion came up and asked me if I considered myself a positive person or a negative person. Then he swapped me a CD for a beer. Gabe’s guitar playing wowed everyone, incidentally.

(Live MP3s - Gabriel doing "24 Karat Man" - http://econo-graphics.com/superdupersecret/24KManLafa.mp3 - Jared doing "What You Get" - http://econo-graphics.com/superdupersecret/WhatYouGetLafa.mp3 )

When the show wrapped up, we all went over to a party down the street, chatted with folks, drank some more beer and ate boudin, a Cajun pork-and-rice sausage that Jeremiah had always warned me away from, but that Paige declared to be the food of the gods and one of the only things that keeps her from being a vegetarian. It was fantastic. Fan-bastarding-tastic.

We slept at Paige’s awesome place, woke up and went to brunch at Country Cuisine, a little soul food place near the interstate that Paige and her friends were raving about. Gabriel and Paige got catfish, and for some reason I opted for barbecued chicken. The chicken was good (really good, actually), but Gabe’s catfish rocked the damn house. Oops.

And then we waddled back into the car and went to Texas.