Our Cajun Interlude–September, 2012

Okay, let’s try this again.  Early this morning I wrote a detailed report on our visit to Louisiana, singing the praises of Cajun hospitality, the tastiness of their cuisine and the over-all courtesy of nearly every Louisianan we met.  Then, poof, the computer ate the whole thing.  Can’t find it anywhere. 

When last heard from, we were sweltering on the banks of the Mississippi in Vidalia just dawdling until it was time to begin our jaunt deep into Louisiana to attend the Cruisin’ Cajuns’ rally in Patterson.  Some parts of Louisiana are a little short on super-highways but we made it to U.S. 90 near Gray without incident.  However, once we turned and headed due west the skies opened up and we were treated to a torrential downpour which lasted about half an hour and delivered even more moisture to an already soggy situation.  Hurricane Isaac had, just a few weeks before, deluged the area and there had been insufficient time for things to dry out.  So when we reached the rally site, we were ushered into a spot that appeared to be a little on the soggy side.  The rear tires started to dig in when we attempted to adjust the placement on our site, so we decided to let well enough alone.  Nobody else seemed the least bit concerned about the situation so we followed their lead and postponed worrying about whether or not we could get out of our spot once we got in.

This being Cajun country, the first thing on the agenda was a meal.  Four couples banded together and headed back to Morgan City to an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.  This struck us as a little odd but the reasoning behind the choice soon became apparent.  A steady supply of fresh seafood.  Rose showed us how to open crabs using the little pull-tabs they’re born with and how to behead a peel-and-eat shrimp. We played in our food for awhile and then switched to some Chinese dishes that required less effort (and fewer napkins) to eat.  But it was fun while it lasted.

The rally wasn’t scheduled to begin until mid-afternoon on Thursday so we took the opportunity to go back into Morgan City and tour Mr. Charlie, an off-shore oil rig on which rig workers are trained.  I took one look at the open metal stairs over the Atchafalaya River (and/or Bay) and vertigo kicked in with a vengeance.  Rose was kind enough to stay ashore with me while the others toured the rig.  Rose has a fair amount of experience with off-shore rigs and filled me in on how they are constructed and what life is like while working aboard.  Touring can make a person work up an appetite so we stopped at Rita Mae’s, a tiny restaurant in a tiny house on a residential street in Morgan City.  Howie and I split a shrimp po’ boy which was delicious and plenty filling.  Rita Mae stopped by the table to accept our kudos and to hand out souvenir pens.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent getting registered, then meeting and greeting an endless stream of ebullient chapter members.  There are no shrinking violets in that crowd and they put a lot of effort into having a good time.  Registering for a rally is hard work and we soon required sustenance – big bowls of chicken and sausage gumbo.  We worked off a few of the calories with the dancing which followed.  We’ve seldom attended a function where the dance floor has been kept so busy.  It seems everyone here can and will dance. 

Football was the theme of this rally and folks in Louisiana take football seriously.  LSU seems to take precedence over the NFL Saints but not by much.  The room was a sea of purple jerseys as we nipped into a supply of Cajun ice cream, a tasty concoction of vanilla ice cream and amaretto.  Goes down easy.  Chapter members did all the cooking and they are superb at it.  Dinner Friday evening was a tasty pork roast with all the trimmings.  Dancing to a live band followed.  “When the Saints Go Marching In” called for a pseudo conga line, waving of hankies and napkins and shouts of “Who dat?”.  We almost have a grip on what “who dat?” means and when you’re supposed to say it.  But not quite.

Did I mention that each day started off with a hearty breakfast?  No?  Well, you might have guess it.  Following Saturday’s breakfast, there was a chapter meeting.  As soon as that was gaveled closed, the Bloody Marys and screwdrivers were circulated, followed by a knock-out lunch that left us in dire need of exercise.  So we walked the short distance to the Wedell-Williams Air Museum.  After poking around a bit among the racing planes from the early days of barnstorming and checking out the collection of cypress logging equipment in the adjacent museum, we strolled home and had a much deserved nap.  And we needed our rest because there was more dancing that evening.  No big meal but plenty of snacks. 

Sunday was departure day and rain was predicted; we didn’t want to tempt fate and linger too long so we had a continental breakfast of coffee and enormous apple fritters (enormous, as in the size of a plate). Rose and John got their coach out without a problem but we had a little more trouble.  The rear tires churned up a fair amount of mud but the application of some gravel by the campground crew soon saw us on solid ground.  We heard later that quite a few coaches had to be hauled out with a large tractor.  Everyone seemed to take this in stride.  Hey, we’re stuck in the mud….no biggie. 

We proceeded to John and Rose’s home near Lafayette where we camped on their lawn for five more days of fun.  One day we made the trek to Avery Island for a quick tour of the Tabasco factory.  This was our second trip there and we really only needed to buy a supply of Sweet & Spicy for our Tabasco stash.  Few stores outside Louisiana carry it and we like it for scrambled eggs especially.  Naturally a bottle of the new Raspberry Chipotle made its way into our shopping cart as well.  We’d already had as much fun as a person should be allowed to have on any given day but on the way home we stopped at a Goodwill Outlet and discovered a treasure trove of bargains.  Everything at the Outlet is $2.00 and everything seemed to be new, including the computer bag Rose discovered.  I’m more than pleased with my $2 nylon jacket and Howie found another white shirt to add to his lawn bowling wardrobe.

Rose and I quickly fell into the habit of meeting for coffee on the patio, solving the world’s problems by 8:00 a.m. and planning our day.  One morning John and Rose set up their assembly line and made beignets.  What a treat it was to scarf down those little tidbits with a cup of coffee while enjoying good conversation and a pleasant breeze on the patio.  An entire batch of those tasty morsels disappeared; I even liked them cold at supper-time. 

One evening we drove to St. Martinville to meet two other Cruisin’ Cajun couples for dinner at their favorite local restaurant.  Howie jumped at the chance to order alligator for his entrée, bypassing his favorite frogs legs.  I tried a morsel; it was quite good and didn’t taste like chicken.  The restaurant is small and everybody seemed to know everybody else, the conversation was rapid-fire with that cadence unique to Cajun patois.  After only nine days in Cajun country, we were beginning to catch most of what was said.  A lot of laughing is involved in Cajun conversation.

We’d had such a good time that saying good-bye left us a little teary-eyed.  But the highway beckons and we had stops to make in Houston (where did all those people come from and where are they going in such a hurry?) and Bandera, cowboy capital of the entire universe.  Y’all stay tuned now, hear?