We had planned to leave home at 0300 on Thursday but I couldn’t sleep, so we pulled out at 0030 and stopped 6 times between there and New Orleans; the longest stop was for about 45 minutes.  I remember when I could work a 10-hour shift and drive 12 hours after getting off duty, headed for a 3-day weekend elsewhere.  I definitely can’t do that anymore and haven’t been able to for a long time, I guess. 

Despite brief periods of rain during the latter half of the trip we got in at 1030 local, 1130 back home time.  So, all in all, we made good time in spite of the weather and the multitude of break stops.

I’ve been accused of having many aspects of my life revolve around food — landmarks are restaurants, memories of events lean toward a relationship with where I ate something noteworthy or where such and such a style of food was available, etc.

Trips to New Orleans, where I was raised, always include food consumed not anywhere nearly for survival of the species.  No, it’s more like consumption for pure enjoyment that in fact actually counters survival in many aspects.

On this trip, “large” seems to be the byword for much of my dining experience. 

Thursday, arrival, afternoon it was a grilled shrimp Caesar salad with medium-large shrimp grilled very nicely and with just the right seasoning to go with Caesar.  My sister and I ordered a side of creole potato salad to share, but it was too spicy for her, which was to my advantage.  I’m just too pleased to help.

Later in the evening it was Morning Call beignets and café au’ lait.  Not a bad welcome at the end of the drive.

Friday began with breakfast at Dot’s Diner, my mother’s favorite place because she can get fried eggs there.  The assisted living place where she lives serves eggs only military style — scrambled.  It’s a real treat for her to get her sunny-side-up eggs at Dot’s.

“Lunch” was a large chocolate éclair from Haydel’s Bakery, one of the largest éclairs I’ve ever seen them sell, too.  I also bought 4 Hubig’s pies while I was out, intended for the Saturday trip to Opelousas, but I couldn’t manage to ignore them that long. 

Later in the day we went to The Galley and I had some of the largest boiled shrimp ever taken in a trawl net, and a side of potato salad.  The Galley always does everything, no matter what you order, very well.  My sister’s fried calamari appetizer/side order seemed to be getting cold out there in the middle of the table, so I helped keep that from going to waste.  I do try to conserve whenever I can. 

On Saturday morning my sister and I headed to Opelousas with a few bottles of water and the 3 remaining Hubig’s pies, which I found, to my advantage once again, she doesn’t care much for.  What a shame.  An utter pity.  I had to conserve again.

We had a great visit with our cousin and his wife; we arrived to the aroma of turkey and pork tasso just finishing up in the smoker, and they cooked a lunch for us as though we were in a darned fine restaurant, serving local food as only locals can.  They do seem to enjoy cooking and it shows in the results.

My cousin can do just about anything with his hands — I envy his skills.  He is a proficient hunter, fisherman, and crabber, he stops at the limit and he eats what he bags.  He cooks what he eats and has developed his own recipes that are of very high quality, despite his protestations that they are just something he likes to do and he gets lucky sometimes.  If I had that kind of luck, but with numbers, I’d clean out a casino someplace.

Their “humble” serving of lunch included large sacalait he had caught, butterflied, mostly de-boned, and deep fried; their home grown zucchini, in a casserole; snap beans, again from their garden, cooked with pork tasso; a green salad with their home grown tomatoes, and turtle fudge brownies for dessert.

And I left this part for last so I could mention it separately.  Over the butterflied and fried sacalait was his own shrimp cream sauce – most definitely not on the low cholesterol list, but definitely to die for.  He said it was good on flounder and this was his first time trying it on sacalait.  Believe me, it is a winner.

His wife and my sister went over and picked up his dad, my uncle, and brought him over for a visit and lunch.  It was good to see him again, especially because he is in poor health and keeps promising to “be horizontal” shortly.  He is in his 90’s, but still wants to do things and is of course frustrated by his inability to do them. 

What a visit, and what a lunch!!  

Late in the afternoon, 3 frozen wild duck, some pork tasso, various leftovers from lunch (yeah!) and 20 pounds of Ray’s Grocery Plus boudin in the coolers, we headed back to New Orleans. 

On Sunday it was back to Dot’s Diner for breakfast where my sister and I shared a pecan waffle (and no, that’s not pronounced “pee-CAN” here) and a Spanish omelet with onion hash browns.  If you go to Dot’s and don’t get the onion hash browns you’re missing out on a really fine set of hash browns.

For lunch my sister prepared duck in orange sauce, sweet potato, and the zucchini casserole and string beans we brought back from Opelousas.  Oh, what a lunch!

As a sort of supper we went to la Madeleine’s and I had a beautiful, absolutely fantastic Napoleon.  Yes, a Napoleon for supper.  I’m on the road, remember?

Shortly after we got back to my sister’s place, Mother called and wanted to go get some beignets.  Uh oh.  She didn’t know we had gone to la Madeleine’s without her, so I suffered for the cause.  I told her I’d pick her up — she and I went to Morning Call and had beignets and café au’ lait, erasing the taste of that Napoleon.  What I go through for the good of the family…

Today, Monday, was breakfast at Dot’s again for Mother and me.  Just had to do the pecan waffle again.   Lunch was a bit lighter, just a pastry brought home earlier from la Madeleine’s.

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Then the real fun began.
The cholesterol won’t kill me on this trip, the excitement will.

As I began preparing for tomorrow’s departure, washing clothes, rearranging clothes between the two travel bags, making space for the cooler that will transport the dry ice and boudin to Iowa, and arranging the various gifts for our grandson there, I managed to lock the rental car keys in the trunk.
Alright, dammit, I heard that.  Stop laughing.  T’aint funny!
Shortly after picking up the rental car near home in Orlando, I tried to separate the two keys, one to my ring and one to my wife’s ring.  Not possible — the fob and keys were on a permanently affixed loop.  So much for that idea, and one might wonder why they bother to give out 2 keys.  One opens everything and the other goes where the one goes, for better or worse.  

Luckily I always take the rental agreement and put it with my laptop, rather than leaving it in the car, so I had the rental agreement number and the vehicle information when I called the rental car company, feeling quite stupid nevertheless for locking the keys in the trunk.  Hello, I rented your car in Orlando, found my way to New Orleans, drove all over the city for several days, am on my way tomorrow to Chicago via Iowa City, and have managed to lock my keys in the trunk sitting right here in my sister’s driveway…duh.

Uh, no ma’am, there is no trunk release button.  I’ve looked everywhere.  OK, I’ll hold.

… 

We’ll if that’s what it’s going to be I can’t do much about it — you’ll bill the $109 to the rental agreement and charge it when I reach Chicago?  OK.

…

What’s that?  You’ve got the guy on the other line?

And he says it’s either that or pull the back seat down and go in that way?

(NOW I REALLY feel like a dumb shit.)

Yes ma’am, I do believe the back eats in that car fold down.  Yes, I’m headed out there right now to check, and I’m hoping he’s guessing correctly; please stay with me — I’m on my cell phone.

…

Uh, ma’am, please thank the gentleman on the other line for me and I’m sorry to have wasted your time.  I’ve just folded down the left seat and I can see the keys at the far side of the trunk.  I’ll be able to get to them after I move most of the trunk contents.  Yes, that will be all I need and thank you both very much.

Feel free to repeat after me:  Bob is a dumb shit.  Bob is a dumb shit.

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The Ice House

On Williams Blvd in Kenner, I had spoken with a very helpful and friendly person there by phone on Saturday after returning from Opelousas.  I would need dry ice for the trip and a heavy duty cooler to put it in.  2 hours from Opelousas to New Orleans is one thing, that can be done with regular ice and a cheap cooler, but New Orleans to Iowa City with some sight seeing along the way is quite another.  Boudin is pork, nothing to fool around with when it comes to refrigeration requirements.

So, today was dry ice and cooler day.  I’ve also found two places on my route where I can get more dry ice to make it for the remainder of the trip because despite The Ice House folks saying it will last, I don’t expect the initial load today will hold until arrival on Friday morning. 

The largest dense Styrofoam “shipping cooler” they had would hold only 2 of my 3 boxes of boudin and have enough room for the dry ice (40 pounds of it), so I put the third box in a smaller shipping cooler (of Omaha Steaks origin) I had brought with me and we put a 10 pound block of dry ice in there.  That one will definitely need replenishment, though possibly by a block from the other cooler.

By the time it’s all over, this will have been 15 pounds of the most expensive boudin ever consumed.  So far, the cost of cooler and dry ice has exceeded the cost of the boudin, and we’re not there yet.

The expense, however, cannot be applied only to the cost of eating honest-to-goodness Cajun boudin in Iowa City, Iowa, of all places.

More fairly, the cost is also split out to learning some good lessons about traveling/shipping with dry ice, those lessons being on-going as I type, and also to the sheer adventure of it all.  Without the challenge this could be just another road trip with departure, enroute motels and meals, and arrival. 

Instead, we have now added dry ice as a perishable commodity, shipping coolers, handling precautions, shipping/sealing tape, sublimation charts, locating enroute sources, and such.  Got to account for the amusement value of it all in the final equation, too!    

Also, while getting the dry ice, I found they also sell boudin, made in St. Amant, Louisiana.  My sister would like a nearby source of decent boudin, ”decent” being pretty much a description of boudin made not in New Orleans, rather, in Cajun Country, so I got some for her. 

I ate 2 two links of it and found it very heavy on rice and would not recommend it.  Frankly, it’s more like it was actually made in New Orleans, not just sold here.  And, as I expected, my sister’s comment after a bite of the St. Amant boudin was, “I like Ray’s.”  I agree. 

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Last night in New Orleans.  Goodbye supper.  The last supper.  Whatever.  Mother called and wanted to take us out to eat.  Good timing — we had just said we were both hungry and we both felt like eating oysters.  So off we went to Drago’s for my charbroiled oysters on the half shell. 

Tomorrow morning I’ll leave at 0500 and pick up the wife at her mother’s place on the other side of the city, then we hit the road before I-10 in New Orleans becomes a parking lot.  First stop Pine Bluff, Arkansas, and I expect to do little blogging about the remainder of the trip.