Galliano Truck Plaza and Casino

One of the great aspects of my job is getting out in the wetlands of Louisiana. Not only does it just get me out of the office, but it also allows me to observe some exceptionally distinctive landscapes.

If you know me, then you know the best part of my trip is not staring at cypress stands; it’s getting out and eating the food of South Louisiana. My projects are assigned to me, so sometimes I end up in the middle of nowhere in St. Helena Parish with nothing to eat, and, Occasionally, I’ll get assigned a project on the North Shore, where the eating establishments are endless. Then, there are days like Wednesday.

I was back in Larose for a third trip to an extensive mitigation bank project. The two previous times, we grabbed lunch at a truck stop/casino, which now seem to be located in even the most remote parts of the state. This time, we passed on that truck stop in Larose to see if we could find anything further down Bayou Lafourche. We passed a Subway and a Quizno’s, but neither of us thought a sandwich would satisfy our mounting hunger. As we wandered aimlessly around Galliano and Golden Meadow, hunger pains finally got the best of us as we pulled into Galliano Truck Plaza and Casino. Yep. That’s exactly what I thought-another truck stop. It’s not like truck stop food was new to me. From tater logs to chicken livers, from Wesson Truck Stop to the Country Buffet in Pickens, I know my way around the cardiac cuisine of the road.

I inspected the menu, which consisted of most of the usual suspects: greasy double cheeseburgers, oversized onion rings, and crispy chicken strips. Yet, there were also some things I should have expected, but still caught me off guard.

The second I saw the mini hot dog PLATTER, I was reminded of my college lunch staple of Betty’s corndog nuggets and rotel cheese dip. However, my corndog daydream was hastily interrupted as I focused on something written on the chalkboard next to the counter- boudin bites. Being that I have only seen these on 3 menus throughout Louisiana, and the fact that they were only $1.00 , I had to get an order.

While shoveling the freshly fried boudin balls down my throat, three guys walked into the empty truck stop diner with their Cajun Reeboks on. They walked directly to the order counter and in some sort of broken Cajun French- English asked, “what you got to eat?” At first, I assumed they couldn’t read the menu, but when the waitress sharply replied, “shrimp and crab fricassee”, my last boudin ball hit the plate. What the hell, was there some kind of secret menu like at In-N-Out Burger, and what truck stop has a fricassee? The three men sat down, and just a few moments later, an older man decked out in his navy blue coveralls came out from the kitchen holding 3 massive bowls of the fricassee. Even though I had just devoured a whole order of fries, a cheeseburger, and almost all of the boudin bites, I started to salivate at the site of the fresh potato salad and the overflowing bowls of stew filled with right-off-the-boat-shrimp and a massive whole crab. We asked the waitress if we could possibly get a to-go box of this secret stew to take home. As she looked at us like we were Phil Berquist, she explained that the old gentleman from the kitchen is one of the shrimp boot guy’s parraine. Every Wednesday, they let him use the kitchen and to cook whatever he wishes. The worst part, the down home Cajun dishes that he slings out of the truck stop’s kitchen aren’t made available to general customers. Instead, they are reserved for his kinfolk and his family’s friends, and only on Wednesday afternoons. After letting out a few "got dang it"s, we left the Galliano Truck Plaza and Casino empty handed. Places like this make me never want to depart from culinary-centric South Louisiana.

Revenge of the Hand Grenades

Even though college football was a week old, the first full week of football was finally here. You know what kind of week I’m talking about, right? The kind when you can catch an insignificant MAC game on Wednesday, meaningful college games on Thursday and Friday nights, get up Saturday morning to watch College Gameday and 37 more college games, and then start watching the NFL games on Sunday as you recuperate from the night before. The kind when your alma mater and the NFL team you grew up watching forces you to alter the audio/video composition of your entire home because the kickoffs are only an hour apart on the opening day of SEC play and the NFL season.

As much as I hate Ole Miss (to the point where I even refused to watch Blindside), the already big football weekend was further amplified by the presence of a few Ole Miss faithful. At one time in my life I would have felt like I was harboring insurgents by letting a couple of Ole Miss grads crash at the house for the weekend, but, over time, my hatred for the in-state rival has given way to tolerance and acceptance. [Oh God, I think I just threw up a little.] Like every other visitor to New Orleans, the weekenders were determined to go to The Quarter. Even though Bourbon is as touristy and pricey as it gets in New Orleans, I decided to join these wild and crazy kids for what I thought would just be a few beers.

A few beers. HA. If you have been keeping up with the blog, you already know of my infatuation with Tropical Isle. I’m still not sure how or why the cheesy, plastic tropical paradise lures me in every time I step my Chaco-tan-lined-feet onto Bourbon. It might be the arcade-like game in the bathroom that literally takes your quarter and measures to see if you could fill up a bathtub or swimming pool. I can't make something like that up. It might be trying to relive the YMCA days by throwing the tiny plastic grenades into the baskets that hang overhead like I'm taking my fare-the-well shot in an intnse HORSE game. Or it might be the fact that Tropical Isle always has the coldest AC during the summer- hey, us Mississippi folk know how to find shade and AC. Whatever it is that keeps drawing me into the establishment, the outcome remains the same- 2 hand grenades, 1 blackout, and 1 nagging hangover.

After trying to force my body to release me from the fetal position the morning after, I began the tedious task of removing the remnants of what I have come to call the Bourbon Street Stank from my weakened body, which now slightly resembled the look and feel of Gak. I had to quickly shake off this headache and gut rot, and perform one of the greatest comebacks in hangover history. An hour and 2 Sierra Mists later, I had gone from being a freshman on a Friday night after the first trip to the Hunt Club to a late-in-the-game-hero of the National Hangover League. Seeing as how we had 6 extra hungry folks in the house for the weekend, I decided to try out a few new recipes. The first was a simple take on homemade Gorgonzola Biscuits. Even if you’re not a fan of any of the blue cheeses, the amount in this recipe is just enough to add a hint of that distinct blue cheese taste without completely overpowering the entire recipe. The hot, golden biscuits came out of the oven tasting remarkably like a fluffy version of Mississippi cheese straws. Even though the biscuits turned out to be pretty damn tasty, the crowd pleaser was a version of Shrimp and Grits that I adapted from a recipe from one of Emeril’s restaurants- cheddar grits smothered with Louisiana shrimp and a mixture of baby portabellas, bacon, garlic, scallions, and a homemade Abita Turbodog Sauce.

Seeing as how this brunch’s original purpose was to simply cure the ailments inflicted upon us by the attack of the hand grenades, it was an added bonus that the recipes came out well enough to carry us through the rest of the college football filled Saturday, which also included a stop by Pat O’Brien’s to have a few ice cold Bud Lights with some good old folks from Gallman, Mississippi while catching a September 11th inspired rendition of Lee Greenwood’s classic performed by one of Pat O’s dueling piano players, Babs, who just so happened to be from It, Mississippi.

Shrimp and Grits

SHRIMP AND GRITS
2 pounds shrimp, peeled and deveined
2 ½ teaspoons Creole seasoning
½ teaspoon Old Bay seasoning
2 tablespoons olive oil
3 tablespoons butter, room temperature
10-12 strips hickory smoked bacon
1 ½ cups baby portabellas
1 medium onion, choppped
2 tablespoons garlic, minced
Juice of 1 lemon
1/2 bunch scallions, chopped
1 Abita Turbodog BBQ Sauce

1. In a large bowl, combine the shrimp with the Creole seasoning and salt and toss to blend. Set aside.
2. Fry bacon until well done, remove from pan and crumble once cooled.
3. Sautee mushrooms and onions in remaining bacon drippings until soft. Remove from pan.
4. Add olive oil and to the pan and heat until very hot.
5. Add 1 tablespoon of butter and swirl quickly to melt.
6. Add shrimp in 1 layer in the pan, and cook until pink on one side, about 1 minute.
7. Turn the shrimp over and add the crumbled bacon, mushrooms, onions, garlic, lemon juice, scallions, and Abita Turbodog BBQ Sauce.
8. Continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until the shrimp are well coated with the sauce and just cooked through, about 3 minutes.
9. Add the remaining butter and stir until melted into the sauce.
10. Serve over Cheddar Grits (recipe below).


CHEDDAR GRITS
6 cups water
Salt
1 ½ cups quick cooking grits (not instant!)
¾ cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons butter
1 cup grated cheddar
Ground black pepper

1. Combine water, grits, and a generous amount of salt in a microwave-safe bowl and stir to combine.
2. Microwave 5-7 minutes stirring occasionally.
3. Add cheddar, heavy cream and butter, season with black pepper, reseason with salt if needed, and stir until cheese is melted.

Sal and Mookie's Moo Moo Farm

I’ve read through the past blogs and discovered that all the blogs have a common theme- alcohol, and eating so much excellent food that I end up making myself absolutely miserable. To keep myself from sounding like a raging alcoholic, I’ll just stick to describing the food induced coma I suffered Saturday.

Just like every other Saturday at the in-laws house back in Vicksburg, the day began with McDonalds. Not knowing that all 3 meals of the day would be fast food, we handily disposed of the customary sausage biscuit and hash browns. A mere 3.5 hours later, we found ourselves waiting for the carhop to deliver the goods- SuperSonic Cheeseburgers, onion rings, cheese sticks, tater tots, and a Route 44 Chocolate DrPepper. Yes, Chocolate DrPepper. Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it. Unknowingly, and perhaps subconsciously, all this fast food was just a way to get our guts nice and loose for the belt-buckle-breaking-supper we were about to experience.

We were trying to beat the crowd to get a good table for Jessica’s surprise engagement party, so we raced over to Jackson like we were Lazy Luke and Blubber Bear in the Arkansas Chuggabug. We finally arrived at Sal and Mookie’s to a full house (unfortunately, the Olsen twins weren’t there). Since we had to wait for a table for 20+, we hung out in the side bar to wait for the newly engaged couple to arrive. They entered a few moments later very surprised, as planned, of course. After a few exchanges of hugs, and laughs, and comparisons of enough shiny new rings to make Duke Nukem and Hoggish Greedly tremble, we were seated at a long table right next to the bustling counter where all the scratch-made pizzas were temporarily stationed before their departure throughout the busy dining room. Even though we had just left seafood-centered New Orleans, and were 3 hours from the Gulf Coast, we couldn’t resist the crab, shrimp, and crawfish pizza laced with a béchamel sauce, and smothered in melted provolone.

Luckily, we had suppressed our appetites enough that we didn’t immediately order the large. We opted for the regular-sized seafood laden pizza, which was very successful at stuffing us, but, as usual, I went for one final piece- a piece that would turn out to be the belt-buckle-breaker. It gets worse. Not only did the pizzeria have a full service bar, they also had an ice cream bar. And I’m not talking about an ice cream buffet like at Ryan’s. They literally replaced the bourbon, gin, and rum usually found on shelves behind the bar with sprinkles, Oreos, and gummy bears.

Overwhelmed by all the flavors and toppings (and I’m sure panicking), Erin went for just a regular ole chocolate milk shake.

For the second time of the night, I couldn’t control myself. Every swig, yes swig, of the extra thick milk shake filled up what little space was left in my now swelling stomach. The dining spectacle was now over, but was superseded by the spectacle of me not even being able to buckle my seatbelt over my stomach, which now felt as if a small child was forming in it. Needless to say, the ride back home didn’t go as smoothly as the ride over. I’m not sure if it was caused by the quick game of Mario Kart on the N64 before we finally left for Vicksburg, but it felt like I spent the entire drive back to Vicksburg dodging prairie doggin’ moles on Moo Moo Farm.

Bovina does Delcambre Shrimp Festival

The weekend started very calmly on our ride to southwest Louisiana for the Delcambre Shrimp Festival. As we sipped on Monsters and chowed down some McDoubles, The GPS navigated us down Highway 90 through thick swamps and vast sugar cane fields.

We thought we had a pretty good idea of what to expect as we entered the land of Poo Poo Broussard, but our stomach and liver weren’t quite as prepared as our minds were. We knew we were in trouble when we showed up to a festival in a town with only 2 stop lights (they just recently were upgraded from 1) and 2,000 people, and there were two 18 wheeler trailers slap full of over 1,000 cases of beer. We got there a little later than planned, and were met at the gate with the fruits of the said trailers. Even though we had just put down those McDoubles, the smells billowing out of the covered pavilion immediately lured us to the food stands. I know it’s called the Delcambre Shrimp Festival for a reason, but the variety of shrimp fare was enough to rival Pvt. Benjamin Buford 'Bubba' Blue’s selections. Boiled shrimp. Fried Shrimp. Shrimp Stir Fry. Shrimp Jambalaya. Shrimp Sauce Piquante. Shrimp and Grits. Shrimp Egg Rolls. Shrimp Pizza. Even Shrimp Burgers. We grazed on shrimp for what seemed like an hour, but made sure to leave enough room for more of those 10 ounce beers as we were taken back to the 80s at the band stands.

We mustered up enough energy to make it over to the bar in Delcambre, and I don’t think I can emphasize THE enough. It felt as if everyone within a 15 mile radius, was unsuccessfully seeking refuge from the humidity in the equally stuffy and humid bar, including a lady (or Billy Ray Cyrus circa 1992, or Jared Allen, or Kenny Powers, we’re still not sure) who had taken the 80s theme of the night a little too far. In the words of my cousin, she (or he) is so poodoo.

Next thing I knew it was 8:00 in the A.M. and the alarm started going off. I awoke in a bed full of Pepperoni Pizza Combos crumbs with the taste of Jalapeno Cheddar Chex Mix still on my tongue suffering from a slight hangover from the night before, or should I say 5 hours before (nothing a Bacon, Egg, and Cheese McGriddle couldn’t handle). One short hour later, and now going on six since I took my last shot of the night, I was back at the festival grounds for the Delcambre Shrimp Festival Cook Off. With my version of the “adult” lemonade in hand, the Bovina to the Bayou Cooking Team, a play on the blog, was now ready to go to work on our entry- a fried green tomato and fried shrimp poboy with tiger sauce and a homemade remoulade.

Our deep fried poboy was a crowd favorite, but, needless to say, my first attempt at trying to beat Cajuns at their own game was not a success (we’ll just say we finished 4th). To add insult to injury, the shade had fled from our team’s tent, leaving us vulnerable to the sucker punch August’s sweltering heat was about to deal us. Defeated and wounded, we hobbled back to some ice cold AC for temporary temperature relief and were treated to even more shrimp- curried Thai shrimp and grits.

As the day turned to night, we made our way back to the festival for one last shrimp fananza. My internal organs didn’t appreciate it, but the rest of Saturday went much like the previous night, massive consumption of shrimp egg rolls, more of those tiny Bud Lights, entertainment from decades past, and another trip to THE bar.

My stomach probably thought it was finally headed to the post game showers as we pulled into our final resting place. Earlier in the day, I mentioned how awesome Betty’s corndog nuggets and ro-tel were and how awesome Petty’s BBQ nachos were. Well, Ches then unleashed the final assault in a flurry of late night gut grenades, BBQ Chicken Nachos with homemade BBQ sauce, and Corndog Nuggets Four Ways- cheddar, buffalo, McIlhenny (sweet and hot pickles), and The Eclectic (hot sauce and grape jelly).