Only in Louisiana

Oh what a day, what a day.  Our friend, NOLA, asked if we would take a ride with her to LaPlace to buy some meat.  Why would anyone drive out of their way to get meat?  Well, it is very tasty meat, or so I am told.  The deal was sealed when I mentioned this to the husband and he joyfully asked me to pick up some Boudin. 

No not that Boudin, more like this.

Like most days there were many things I forgot and promised to do before we could get on the road to tasty meat.  First there was the matter of my husband’s prescription that keeps his cholestrol down so that he doesn’t suddenly stop moving because all his arteries have harden.  I am sure the Boudin will help this little problem as well.  It doesn’t matter that I had gotten the call that it was waiting at the Target before I had gone on my weekly Target run.  No that would be too perfect.  So I braved the hell that is the Target parking lot and saved my husband’s life.  I am a great wife, I know.

Then it was off to get the husband some lunch, since he is working the store this weekend.  Selling guns and other law enforcement supplies makes a man hungry.  I had my marching orders, Raising Cane’s, stat.  Lucky for me it was only 11am and that place doesn’t get busy until say 1125am.  Everything is fine until I realize that the little twit totally screwed up drive through protcol and forgot to give me my drink.  I have a good excuse as to why it took me enroute to the store to notice I had no frosty lemonade for the man, I am a paying customer, not my job.  I played it in my mind to see where everything went wrong.  I handed the little twit money for the food, she hands me box of steamy goodness, I put said box on seat, she hands me change, I put change in my wallet, little twit ask if I need ketchup, I say yes, handed ketchup and I drive off.  She totally screwed me at the drive through window.  Everyone knows that the drink comes first.  You always hand the customer the drink as they hand you the money.  It is the way it is done all over the world.  I thought about going back and demanding my money back for the lemonade that I paid for, but never got.  Then I saw the line and decided to complain really loud as I drove around the people in line with my window down.  That will show them.  There was more screwing up at a  simple job at Wendy’s, but I won’t bore you with that.  However, my same screaming technique was put in place after I recieved my food.  The key is after you recieve your food then you complain.  If they have your food then they are in control.

Then we are on the road.  The scenic route.  What is there to see from Jefferson to LaPlace:  murky bayou waters, big pollution causing plants, trees, trees, camps that have fallen into the bayou, gators (if you are lucky), state trooper, a town that hasn’t seen change since the 1970’s and, oh yeah, more trees.  We arrive at the tasty meat store and NOLA proceeded to buy an enourmous amount of meat for an insanely low price.  The place smelled spicy and would put you into a nice meaty coma if you were not trying to corral 2 kids and keep a baby quiet.  We leave the one tasty meat spot and drive 30 seconds to the second stop to get some more tasty meat. 

NOLA tells me that there is a Hatfield and McCoy type story between these two places, but I am too overcome with spicy meat goodness to look up the story.  I am sure there was a meat filled war where neither side came out the winner and decided to split the products down the middle:  one got spicy goodness and the other got juicy goodness.  Never the two should meet in the little town of LaPlace, Lousiana. 

We had survived our meat journey and headed home, but wait…we had to keep the meat fresh and cold.  A little stop at your local thug stop convience store to buy some ice and the largest bottle of Gatorade for one person I have ever seen.  NOLA informs me to drive off if her life is threatened and save her child.  No problem.  Happy I drove.  NOLA exits the store to glares of men wondering why 2 white women and their children would stop here.  Living on the edge is all I can say.  We drive home happy to have meaty goodness to share and enjoy.

This is the way of life here in New Orleans when you find good meat you go out of your way to get it.  The best meat is always in the smallest, backwoods town you can find and will be marked by your friendly, everyday Mr. Sausage.

 

We got the meat from Jacob’s and Bailey’s.