So everybody is busy casting for shrimp or bait fish, taking turns as polite professional fisherfolk, when an obvious neophyte barges in and starts casting without exhibiting the standard protocol, quickly fouling other cast nets with errant throws. A few Christian souls try to guide him in the right direction, but the bozo continues messing up the area for the others. On one of his casts he catches a big bluepoint crab that gives some difficulty being removed from the net. So bozo catches him with two fingers on the back of the shell - the place where crabs aren't supposed to be able to reach you with their claws - only this crab evidently didn't know that, reaching under his shell with a powerful red claw to pinch bozo's thumb and hang on.
The kid turned his back to the rest of the crowd, most of whom had noticed his predicament, and struggled to break free of the big crab. Little whining sounds came from his throat as the strong pincers broke skin and a trickle of blood ran down the guy's hand. Finally he simply broke the claw off at the body, the pincer still attached to his thumb. The other fishermen grinned when they heard the distinct crack.
One grizzled old Cajun fisherman, in a voice as droll as humanly possible, said loudly, "I don't know about the rest of y'all, but when a crab gets ahold of me like that, I holler." The crowd erupted in raucous laughter.
The kid was
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
Tuesday, April 28, 2015
I've been a professional writer for more than half my adult life, mostly as a daily newspaper reporter, but my brother wrote me today that my gift slants in the direction of a diarist of everyday things. I have often thought the same thing myself. Just this morning, I saw something at a railroad crossing that struck me as unusual to say the least. A pair of cardinals were brawling or engaged in a prelude to mating - it's sometimes hard to tell the difference even in birds - going around and around in the air squawking as a freight train passed when suddenly the pair whooshed under the train and out the other side, proving in a cardinal sort of way that love is blind, which somehow reminded me of Guy Cuccio, a boxing aficianado who also wields a mean metal detector. When the city was tearing up South Parkerson downtown some years back, Guy found all sorts of amazing artifacts, which he will be proud to show off at the slightest prompting, bobbing his head like a welterweight as he excitedly describes the old coins and other treasures. Why blind love and Cuccio? All ya gotta do is take one look at Guy's gorgeous wife, Kay. The gal certainly deserves a place in heaven.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
joe paris search
I'm looking for Joe Paris. In an earlier life he was my brother. He's a daily blogger but I'm just learning computer skills of that type so I haven't found him yet. Anyone who knows how to access his stuff will please leave me a message. I might see him this weekend but I can't be sure. We're having a crawfish boil for my brother, Johnny, and his new husband, the Olympic diving champion Greg Louganis. They live in Los Angeles and are currently promoting Greg's new documentary on his life. He and Johnny are grand marshals or whatever at a big gay pride event in Lafayette this weekend, the last of March. Well, back to breathing in these first days of spring and enjoying retirement, which means lots of fishing, crabbing and BBQs and blessed reading for hours on end for the pure pleasure of it. To paraphrase a currently popular slogan without aiming for political incorrectness, Slack Lives Matter. Update: Of course I found my brother by googling him, but I'm looking for a certain site where he posts his daily blog.
Friday, March 13, 2015
mary tutwiler, a remembrance
Remembrance of Things Past, French novelist Marcel Proust's classic nine-volume memoir, was triggered by the taste of a pastry from his youth. Taste, smell, touch, hearing and sight. All are ports into our past.
In the case of Mary Tutwiler, with whom I shared a decade-long love affair with life's culinary adventures, the taste would be, for example, the Sweet Potato Bread at Miss Lil's Kitchen in Jeanerette, possibly the best dessert that ever passed my lips. At the time, I was news editor and feature writer at The Daily Iberian in New Iberia, where Mary lived in a house rumored to have Jean Lafitte treasure buried on the property.
Her heart and life approach much resembled treasure troves ripe for discovery. I eagerly engaged my spade in the search that as often as not ended in having "dessert first," which became a catchphrase with us.
I first was touched by Mary's magic after writing an article about the city's landfill that described white egrets
as exclamation points and curve-necked question marks against the green trees. She sent me a box of Lindor chocolate truffles, eminently superior to a note of appreciation, having spotted me for a hedonist instantly.
That led to years of seeking out road trips centered around good food at rural grocery stores and soul-food kitchens as well as "off the eaten track" rough diamonds scattered across southwest Louisiana.
After years of working as an award-winning reporter herself, claiming that I had "put the pen" in her hand, she recently opened "Saints Street Inn," a critically acclaimed restaurant in Lafayette. I haven't been there yet, but it's not because I don't want to expose my "big bang heart" she knows so well. It's because, in part, I've tasted most of her specialties with just her and I at the table, or tree stump. Those years have become akin to dreams, and that's one thing I can't surrender. Sometimes, it's all a guy's got left to lose. Update: I have been told that Mary sold out her half of the restaurant because, for one thing, it had eliminated leisure time in her life, which is as important to her as it is to many Europeans, particularly Italians and Spaniards.
Now she reportedly is marketing Louisiana alligator products, hiring tanners and artisans to produce belts, purses, wallets, etc. If you know Mary, it makes sense that she has chosen a sustainable resource. Just ask Wayne Sagrera at Sagrera Alligator Farm in Big Woods south of Abbeville. Gator farming has made the big reptiles as sustainable as pine trees. Perhaps Mary will, if she hasn't already, contact Kathy Richard in Abbeville to sell some of Kathy's Swamp Ivory alligator jewelry. It's lovely stuff. One of my favorite stored impressions of Mary is the line of her jaw when she got determined about something. My best wishes go out to her for success and happiness in her life.
In the case of Mary Tutwiler, with whom I shared a decade-long love affair with life's culinary adventures, the taste would be, for example, the Sweet Potato Bread at Miss Lil's Kitchen in Jeanerette, possibly the best dessert that ever passed my lips. At the time, I was news editor and feature writer at The Daily Iberian in New Iberia, where Mary lived in a house rumored to have Jean Lafitte treasure buried on the property.
Her heart and life approach much resembled treasure troves ripe for discovery. I eagerly engaged my spade in the search that as often as not ended in having "dessert first," which became a catchphrase with us.
I first was touched by Mary's magic after writing an article about the city's landfill that described white egrets
as exclamation points and curve-necked question marks against the green trees. She sent me a box of Lindor chocolate truffles, eminently superior to a note of appreciation, having spotted me for a hedonist instantly.
That led to years of seeking out road trips centered around good food at rural grocery stores and soul-food kitchens as well as "off the eaten track" rough diamonds scattered across southwest Louisiana.
After years of working as an award-winning reporter herself, claiming that I had "put the pen" in her hand, she recently opened "Saints Street Inn," a critically acclaimed restaurant in Lafayette. I haven't been there yet, but it's not because I don't want to expose my "big bang heart" she knows so well. It's because, in part, I've tasted most of her specialties with just her and I at the table, or tree stump. Those years have become akin to dreams, and that's one thing I can't surrender. Sometimes, it's all a guy's got left to lose. Update: I have been told that Mary sold out her half of the restaurant because, for one thing, it had eliminated leisure time in her life, which is as important to her as it is to many Europeans, particularly Italians and Spaniards.
Now she reportedly is marketing Louisiana alligator products, hiring tanners and artisans to produce belts, purses, wallets, etc. If you know Mary, it makes sense that she has chosen a sustainable resource. Just ask Wayne Sagrera at Sagrera Alligator Farm in Big Woods south of Abbeville. Gator farming has made the big reptiles as sustainable as pine trees. Perhaps Mary will, if she hasn't already, contact Kathy Richard in Abbeville to sell some of Kathy's Swamp Ivory alligator jewelry. It's lovely stuff. One of my favorite stored impressions of Mary is the line of her jaw when she got determined about something. My best wishes go out to her for success and happiness in her life.
Friday, February 27, 2015
Well, who knew that one of the original Web Neanderthals who has clung to Word only if not No. 2 pencils and legal pads would actually have a blog. Like most things inherently American, a conspiracy was responsible. Now Joe Paris will not be the only member of the Shy-yo tribe to assault readers' sensibilities.
For six years, from 1997-2003, I was the restaurant critic for the Lafayette Daily Advertiser, during which time I also published food reviews in the New Orleans Times Picayune and on Emeril Lagasse's website.
When Gannett Publishing of USA Today infamy took over the Hub City's paper, the new brain trust decided to eliminate food writing in its only Cajun country daily. I said something to them in French that was translated to feature the last part of a chicken to clear a fence, when actually I was referring to the byproduct that emanated from that part. I quit or was fired, depending on whose story you believe. It was just as well since I was up to nearly 300 pounds.
Often I've been asked to name to best place to go for this or that Cajun or Creole specialty, which would be purely subjective in nature. Also, "best" encompasses a list of places, not one place. There is no such thing as the "best" gumbo or poboy in Lafayette, whose area chefs regularly best New Orleans chefs in head-to head competitions.
Following that train of thought, naming the best dish I've had or the single best restaurant might seem impossible, but if a loaded link of crawfish boudin was held to my head, one of the dishes I would have to mention would be the Frog Legs Etouffee at Robin's in Henderson, cooked in a Dutch oven and requiring advance ordering or a 45-minute wait that is worth it, and how. Rich and savory beyond normal description, this is a dish nicely complimented by half a dozen fried frog legs.
Of the more than 300 published reviews in my name, ironically it was two restaurants outside of the accepted "Acadiana" region of Cajun country that most captured my imagination. The first was Joe's at the Dreyfus Store in Livonia. off U.S. 190 between Opelousas and Baton Rouge. With everything from hog's head cheese to escargot on the menu, the variety of honest, top-notch blue-collar specials was mind-boggling.
Alas, Joe's closed a number of years ago, but still in business after many years is the Bayou Bistro in the old officer's club at England Air Force Base in Alexandria. This is among the top places in the state for fine dining. Normally the best food is not to be found at white-tablecloth places, but BB is an exception.
I'll be posting a regular food blog that I would appreciate any and all feedback on, but right now I have to head out to Coleman's meat market near Iota in Acadia Parish for some of the best boudin in the area and maybe some fresh pork sausage or some nice center-cut chops for a BBQ this twilight. Good eating.
For six years, from 1997-2003, I was the restaurant critic for the Lafayette Daily Advertiser, during which time I also published food reviews in the New Orleans Times Picayune and on Emeril Lagasse's website.
When Gannett Publishing of USA Today infamy took over the Hub City's paper, the new brain trust decided to eliminate food writing in its only Cajun country daily. I said something to them in French that was translated to feature the last part of a chicken to clear a fence, when actually I was referring to the byproduct that emanated from that part. I quit or was fired, depending on whose story you believe. It was just as well since I was up to nearly 300 pounds.
Often I've been asked to name to best place to go for this or that Cajun or Creole specialty, which would be purely subjective in nature. Also, "best" encompasses a list of places, not one place. There is no such thing as the "best" gumbo or poboy in Lafayette, whose area chefs regularly best New Orleans chefs in head-to head competitions.
Following that train of thought, naming the best dish I've had or the single best restaurant might seem impossible, but if a loaded link of crawfish boudin was held to my head, one of the dishes I would have to mention would be the Frog Legs Etouffee at Robin's in Henderson, cooked in a Dutch oven and requiring advance ordering or a 45-minute wait that is worth it, and how. Rich and savory beyond normal description, this is a dish nicely complimented by half a dozen fried frog legs.
Of the more than 300 published reviews in my name, ironically it was two restaurants outside of the accepted "Acadiana" region of Cajun country that most captured my imagination. The first was Joe's at the Dreyfus Store in Livonia. off U.S. 190 between Opelousas and Baton Rouge. With everything from hog's head cheese to escargot on the menu, the variety of honest, top-notch blue-collar specials was mind-boggling.
Alas, Joe's closed a number of years ago, but still in business after many years is the Bayou Bistro in the old officer's club at England Air Force Base in Alexandria. This is among the top places in the state for fine dining. Normally the best food is not to be found at white-tablecloth places, but BB is an exception.
I'll be posting a regular food blog that I would appreciate any and all feedback on, but right now I have to head out to Coleman's meat market near Iota in Acadia Parish for some of the best boudin in the area and maybe some fresh pork sausage or some nice center-cut chops for a BBQ this twilight. Good eating.
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