Thibodaux

There is no “th” sound in the French language, so this is why a lot of Cajuns say “dis” instead of “this,” “dat” instead of well… you get the picture. Sprinkled with French the whole act of conversing with a Cajun is quite an adventure. Just trying to get through the pronunciations for cities like Iowa or today’s destination, Thibodaux has led to hours long discussions between us. T-be-dough? It certainly passed the time for us as we drove along the relatively rural route 90 and avoiding the madness of interstate 10. We paused briefly in Iowa to take pictures of the Dirty Rice Saloon and drove slowly through sleepy towns like Jennings and Crowley to admire some nice homes. Crowley is known as the Rice Capital of America, and we meandered down the main avenue, snapped pictures of the Rice Theatre and peered at a couple of elegant homes, but sadly we were not in time for the International Rice Festival, so we continued on to the half way point to Thibodaux… Prejean’s.

The lunch we had at Prejean’s was perhaps the finest meal we’ve gotten so far in Louisiana. We were served two expansive meals that reduced us to giggling schoolchildren by the end! The nuance of the flavors spread across our taste buds was remarkable. Janet later would say I get that faraway look in my eyes as my senses are caressed by the wonderful food. I consider myself very fortunate to eat such meals and I am amazed consistently at the flavors. At Prejean’s we had another order of the Sassafras Shrimp and we tackled the waitress when she tried to remove our plate… Janet was still trying to lick the plate clean. Then we shared two meals. I had Catfish Pontchartrain that was lightly fried and topped their “gold medal crawfish sauce Pontchartrain”. Now, I’ve been eating a lot of catfish while in Louisiana, mainly because the oysters unless pasteurized are not in season, and the crawfish run was finished in late May and so there’s no boil available. But, this catfish at Prejean’s restaurant in Lafayette was light and tender and the brown catfish Pontchartrain sauce had a deep taste with a slow smoldering spice. Topped with several little crawfish, I almost did not want to give up my second half to Janet. I was glad I did though. She got Oysters Saxophone! Fired oysters and shitake mushrooms are piled into a hollowed loaf of bread and covered with a lemon parsley beurre blanc. Normally we try to avoid carbs… but you’ll want to use this bread to sop up every drop of the sauce.

All told we were in Prejean’s for two hours! They begged us to leave. Janet bought a t-shirt, but they made me give back the stuffed alligator. (I wouldn’t have fit it on the airplane anyway.)

After leaving Prejean’s for the last time (3 meals in all) we barreled down route 90 toward Thibodaux. The destination was more a matter of convenience than an interesting place to hang our hat for a couple of days. We picked out the town as a close enough point to reach plantations along the Mississippi River and to New Orleans.

We were somewhat disappointed in Thibodaux when we first arrived. It seemed dreary and the historic district at first looked to be a row of empty storefronts. We checked into a hotel on the other side of Bayou Lafourche. We had traveled along the latter length of this particular bayou on our way to Grand Isle so many days ago. It is called by some down here to world’s longest street and for good reason. Many of the homes would face the bayou and not the streets behind the homes and would use the bayou as the main means of transporation. Lafourche is from the French word, “fork,” and at one time this slow moving water was actually a part of the Mississippi River itself. A French priest in the early 1700’s stood near where the Mississippi and the Bayou Lafourche once split off and wrote that he could not tell which leg was the main branch of the river. But, in 1905 the fork was damned and then reduced to a slow moving, almost stagnant bayou.

Well, despite all the history, we almost did not venture out of our hotel that night. The town seemed shuttered and without promise. But, beer, that strong elixir given to us by the gods beckoned and we drove out into the night searching for a barstool. After plying the empty streets of Thibodaux for a bit we decided to park in the historic district. We had seen some neon lights and thought to investigate. Every place we looked into was open, but empty. It was not until we gulped and headed into Rene’s Bar. It’s windows were nearly boarded up and there was only a faint light filtering beneath the door. It seemed dead, or dangerous. But at Rene's we found solace. Perhaps another time we would not have been so adventurous, but we had learned that such fearful steps only lead to disappointments and throughout our time in Louisiana we have encountered nothing but good times behind such similar clapboard facades.

Rene’s did not disappoint, though it was far from the charm of other places we’ve visited. We were more in civilization than in the rural backwaters. We were not the life of the party. Thankfully we were just another couple that bellied up to the bar (a metaphor that was quite appropriate given our sated guts). It was a bar! Janet had her beer wrapped in a napkin… I did not. People played pool. Others at the bar in voices that were not tinged with Cajun accents joked with the bartender, but ignored us. We smiled, happy to have found this place.

Thanks for reading….

If you’re keeping track you’ll notice that this entry is quite late. Our last few days in Louisiana were a flurry of activity with not a lot of downtime. Plus the added inconvenience of having to endure weather related plane delays kept us in New Orleans for an extra day…af the airport, unfortunately. After finally returning home and finding my house needed to get put back in order, I have had little time to write, but I will finish the next couple of entries in the coming days. I hope you’re enjoying reading about this great state as much as we had exploring it!