Texas:
We flew to Texas as a family for my mom’s cousin’s graduation from college. Texas was hot and big… all the things you hear, and a lot more. My cousins and I went on a fabulous hike and for a bunch of people from the land of the snow, the heat and sun were so very welcome. We met no one on the trails and also no snakes, which I think for a bunch of crazy cousins in their late teens/early twenties was about as wonderful as we could have asked for.
Hanging out with family was fun, the graduation was a mix of wonderful and boring. Memories are mostly of good food, lots of picture taking, and lots of laughter. We only really all get together once, maybe twice a year and yet somehow we are all really close.
After the festivities ended it was time to begin the crucial car search. My parents and I spent two days searching all of Austin for the perfect used Subaru. It took until the very last moment, but we were finally able to find it. The sales man was a former Olympic swimmer. My mom flew home that next morning, and David (my step dad) and I embarked on what would be one of the greatest road trips of all time.
Louisiana:
David, is a foodie. Specifically, he loves seafoods, but his goal was to eat a sort of symbolic meal in each state we passed through. Our first night was in the West Monroe area of Louisiana, known for Duck Dynasty (yuck). For me it’s come to be a night representative of why I don’t want to live in the South, but also of why I want to visit there more often.
Th hotel we stopped at was nice. Clean. Had a really nice outdoor pool. But the guy behind the counter… was creepy. Creepy like, watched me at the pool and asked to come back to my room creepy. Creepy like, one of the reasons we only stayed one night creepy. Creepy like, I stayed in David’s room creepy. All together leaving an awful taste in my mouth. But anyway, we checked in, cleaned up, and headed out.
We started just driving around in search of food, it’s not that big of a town, and we ended up stumbling on this very local, very gritty, truly wonderful crawfish and shrimp boil. It smelled amazing… there was a small building with a bar and counter, attached and 3 times the size of the building was this huge tent lit up with strings of lights, candle and lanterns. It was filled with big wooden picnic tables. There was a small dance floor just off center, with a small piano, and two stools. Off the back, through the flaps you could see where the boil was happening, steams and smells wafted in the through the flaps as people bustled out buckets (yes actual buckets) of crustaceans and sauces to the tables.
We were obviously two of maybe five non-locals there. I ordered some fried chicken inside (I’m not big on seafoods really). David ordered a bucket of shrimp. We just observed in awe until the food came out and then dug in ravenously.
As we were eating an ancient black man with a guitar strolled out of what seemed to be nowhere, took a seat on one of the stools and started to sing and play… old jazzy swing style. Soulful music.
Long after we’d finished our food, we were still there, at a table closer to him now, listening. Half the people had gone and it was dark outside. He’d switched to the piano and seemed to be winding down, the cooks and staff were starting to close up. He started to play a nice paced swinging tune. So we got up and danced.
He was grinning ear to ear and we were too. Breathless and applause from the remaining few people ringing in our ears we started to get ready to go. He thanked us. He played one more slower tune, David settled the bill. The man wandered out as quickly as he’d appeared. And we too left, making our way to the hotel, from a magical night.
Coffee & Conundrums 