Louisiana: Cigars and Guitars

Mobile Cigar Lounge at the LA 31 Brewery, Arnaudville, Louisiana. September 2017.

September 2017


On a pleasant Saturday afternoon, after I'd spent the morning dancing at the new-to-me location for the zydeco breakfast in Breaux Bridge, I visited the LA Brewery in Arnaudville for its weekly music draw.

A bucolic scene:

I arrived early; Major Handy and his most wonderful and versatile band were setting up:

Major Handy and the Louisiana Blues Band at the LA 31 Brewery, Arnaudville, Louisiana. September 2017.

It was durn hot, but I got a good seat in a rocking chair by the fan.

Major Handy and the Louisiana Blues Band at the LA 31 Brewery, Arnaudville, Louisiana. September 2017.

But whoa, whoa, whoa ... what was this shiny thing rolling in?

Mobile Cigar Lounge at the LA 31 Brewery, Arnaudville, Louisiana. September 2017.

Mobile Cigar Lounge at the LA 31 Brewery, Arnaudville, Louisiana. September 2017.

The band continued getting itself sorted.

Major Handy and the Louisiana Blues Band at the LA 31 Brewery, Arnaudville, Louisiana. September 2017.

And I went over to investigate this flashy object.

Mobile Cigar Lounge at the LA 31 Brewery, Arnaudville, Louisiana. September 2017.

A mobile cigar room!

Mobile Cigar Lounge at the LA 31 Brewery, Arnaudville, Louisiana. September 2017.

It's the Smokin' Room.

I chatted with the owner and he kicked one of my assumptions to the curb right quick. I'd figured that he'd have to pay the business owners (in this case, the brewery) some sort of compensation for setting up shop there. But no! The Mobile Cigar Lounge has a sizable number of patrons who will go where the lounge goes. So, actually, the Mobile Cigar Lounge brings customers to the business!

Mobile Cigar Lounge at the LA 31 Brewery, Arnaudville, Louisiana. September 2017.

 The owner, John Johnson, relates the story of the lounge's pregnancy and birth here.

 I don't smoke cigars, but I do like shiny things, so the Mobile Cigar Lounge was mighty cool.

Lil Buck Sinegal at the LA 31 Brewery, Arnaudville, Louisiana. September 2017.

But Lil Buck Sinegal, playing with Major Handy's band on this day,  is cooler.

Louisiana Road Trip 2011, Part 9: Tabasco and More Ned

St. Martin of Tours Church, St. Martinville, LA

Tabasco

The Tabasco company is on Avery Island, about an hour and a half from Arnaudville. Avery Island is made of salt. Not kidding. (And even though some people recoil from same as if it were meth, I like it, with no apologies.) I drove down for the factory tour.

The tour is very short: A brief, but interesting, lecture by an enthusiastic speaker, a 10-minute video advertisement documentary about Tabasco, and a short, self-guided walk down the glassed hallway, where you look at bottling happening. Today, the sauce was being bottled for shipment to France.  Each of us received three teensy bottles of Tabasco sauce in different flavors.

The intended climax of the tour was the visit at the "country store," where you could taste Tabasco products, including its pepper ice cream. And then buy stuff.  I did buy some hot&sweet pickles and jalapeno jelly. Best of the Tabasco sauces: Chipotle.

I think I'm glad I did the tour. And if I'm not glad I did it, I'm glad I prevented the need for me to do it in the future. So it's a win-win.

St. Martinville

Headed up north again. This time, I dawdled in St. Martinville's town square. Very pretty church, St. Martin of Tours Catholic Church.

St. Martin of Tours Catholic Church, St. Martinville, LA

Out back, there is the famous Evangeline statue. Note her shoes. The Acadians (cajuns) used these wooden shoes on their homesteads along the bayous. They adopted them from the Dutch way back when their ancestors learned how to protect farmlands from the sea.

Evangeline, St. Martinville, Louisiana

Light and bright, as churches go.

















I especially liked the pew gates.

There was also a spiral staircase up to a pulpit. And a couple of saints new to me. (Which I see, now, since I cannot identify them, I need to get into the habit of photographing such housekeeping details  - or writing them down immediately - because I will forget them before the day is out. I will add this to my road trip guide.)
 

I was at the church at noon, so I heard the bells.

Outside, angels flew.

Ned, again

I hadn't heard anything about Ned the lost dog yet, and I was curious. I had to pass through Breaux Bridge on my way back to Arnaudville, so I stopped in at the music guy's place to see if I could get some news. The music guy was in his shop, painting.

"Oh yeah," he said, "We stayed here in the shop til 11:00 last night waiting to hear back from the owners, but we never did, so we figured out where they lived [via reverse phone lookup] and just took him over there and left him in the [fenced] yard."

I nodded my head, listening.

".... and you know what? Ol' Ned showed up back here the next morning."

"You're kidding?!"

"Oh, yeah. So I took him on back to his house. The owners still weren't there, but some neighbors were, and they saw him, and they said, 'well, hey, there's ol' Ned.'"

I think probably Ned has more up his sleeve for the future, and I hope to hear about it.
 
So who was this nice guy at the music store, anyway? When we parted, I went to shake his hand, and he said, "We don't shake hands around here, we give hugs." And so we did. I learned he plays in the Steve Riley and Mamou Playboys band. His name is Brazos Huval.

They've been nominated for a "regional roots" Grammy for their album, Grand Isle.  Here's the band performing an NPR tiny desk concert: 

Poche's

Time for a late lunch. Stopped at Poche's specialty meats and cafe. Poche's is just down the road from Glenda's Creole Kitchen, which so far had served me up the best meal of this road trip. Both Glenda's and Poche's are between Breaux Bridge and Arnaudville, on Highway 31.

I was torn between trying the crawfish etoufee and the smothered rabbit, but went with the etoufee. Some people, upon taking the first bite, might exclaim: "Holy Christ on a stick, that's #%^#@! good!" I would not say such a thing because it would be crass, so let me just say that it was mighty flavorful. As was the sweet coleslaw and the potato salad.

Today's plate lunches at Poche's

Do you see why road trips are so much fun?

Louisiana Road Trip 2011, Part 8: Bayous, Grilled Gator, and Ned

Ned the Lost Dog, Breaux Bridge, Louisiana

Swamp tour

Lake Martin, a few miles outside Breaux Bridge. Fishing boat (seats 10), outboard motor, can maneuver in water only a foot deep. Knowledgeable guide. Didn't see any gators (too cold, likely), but saw: Beaver, turtles, egrets, cormorants, ibises, herons, duck decoys, and duck hunters. It was pretty cold out, especially with wind, so I was glad I'd brought my coat.

My video plays faster than it felt when we trolled along in the boat.

In this video, an egret flies.

I find bayous and swamps more interesting and beautiful than the ocean. The bayou beach is a problem, of course. Skeeters and gators not conducive to laying out in the sun. 

Road trip laundry

A week's gone by, so that means laundry needed to be done. Where are all of the laundromats? Have they gone the way of telephone booths? None in Arnaudville or Breaux Bridge, apparently.  Found one in Lafayette. Passed the wash cycle by talking on the phone with folks back home. Threw the clothes in the dryer and took a walk in the neighborhood, drawn into same by a gigantic wall of bamboo between the laundromat and a house's backyard. I walked around the wall and turned the corner onto St. Charles, a sweet little street.

St. Charles Street, Lafayette, Louisiana

Add caption

It introduced me to the concept of a speed "lump." Never heard of such a thing.
















I liked the architectural diversity on this street.

St. Charles Street, Lafayette, Louisiana

St. Charles Street, Lafayette, Louisiana

St. Charles Street, Lafayette, Louisiana

St. Charles Street, Lafayette, Louisiana

St. Charles Street, Lafayette, Louisiana

There were flowers, too.

St. Charles Street, Lafayette, Louisiana

St. Charles Street, Lafayette, Louisiana

In no time, my clothes were dry, and I headed back to Breaux Bridge to look around. On my way out of Lafayette, I spied the Holy Trinity Institute, a building in the act of disintegration.

Holy Trinity Institute, Lafayette, Louisiana

Breaux Bridge and Ned the lost dog

Parked the car across the street from the unfortunately-defunct Fly Coffeehouse and walked down the main downtown drag.

Breaux Bridge, Louisiana

Saw a bunch of cars parked in a parking lot, so I investigated that in case something was going on that I wanted to be part of. Nothing interesting. Saw a dog. Walked down to the bayou and looked at the water. Contemplated the plastic pink flamingos arranged along its bank. Started walking back to the main street. The dog walked purposefully to me and looked up at my face, making eye contact. One blue eye; one brown eye. I felt a little skittish, having learned to be wary of Georgian dogs (at least three TLGers I know of have had to get rabies shots after dog bites).

Breaux Bridge, Louisiana

Nevertheless, the dog and I ambled around downtown together. Almost all of the businesses were closed on this late Monday afternoon.

Breaux Bridge, Louisiana

I walked back to my parked car, the dog still accompanying me. I went to open my door, and it was clear the dog intended to jump in and leave with me. He was quite persistent, but I was able to get in solo, but when I started the car and moved forward, damned if the dog didn't get in front of the car and refuse to get out of the way.

Breaux Bridge, Louisiana

A woman walking by noticed the situation. I asked if she knew where the dog belonged .... nope. She said it looked like a "catahoula." She noted a collar on his neck and attempted to investigate it for information. No dice; the dog moved away, but darned if he didn't allow me to take a look. "Ned." A phone number. 

Breaux Bridge, Louisiana

The woman, who I later learned was Missy, called the number immediately and left a voice mail, and we considered what to do next. Missy suggested we take him across the street to the guy who gives music lessons next to the now-defunct Fly Coffeehouse, because maybe he'd hold onto the dog til the owners called her back. I wondered aloud, "Why do you think this guy will hold onto the dog?" "Because he's a nice guy." So Missy, Ned, and I walked over to the music shop, where the guy was giving a lesson to a young girl. And the nice guy said, "Hey, I think that's the dog that's on the 'lost dog' poster." And he came out onto the sidewalk and pointed to a pole on the nearby corner.

While he and Missy put Ned in the guy's fenced courtyard behind the store, I walked up to the corner to look at the poster. Well, sure enough, there was Ned - his photo, name, and phone number, indicating he'd been lost since November 6 or 7. And a $100 reward. I commenced to pull the poster off of the pole, and heard a woman calling out to me from the street. She was in a big ol' SUV and she said, "Hey! I know who owns that dog!" And I said, great, because we just found him and told her where he was. So she whips around and parks behind the store, and we go into the front, joining Missy and the music guy.

After some conversation, the SUV woman and I realize that Ned is not the same dog she's thinking about, and as we work that out, who comes out into the main room but Ned, cocking his head as if to say, "Hey, where you guys been? I been waitin'!"

The music guy hustled Ned back into the courtyard, Missy takes her leave, and the music guy and the SUV woman work out a plan to get a dog crate to the store where Ned can remain safely until his owners retrieve him.

I take a happy photo.

Breaux Bridge, Louisiana

I go out back to say bye to Ned, whereupon I discover he's slipped away again. He's not too far, though, and the SUV woman unlocks her vehicle and tells me that if I can get him in there, that's OK by her. So I seduce Ned into the black vehicle, say goodbye to him, and give my number to the woman so she can let me know how it all turns out. (Meanwhile, the young music student waits patiently and good-humoredly throughout all these goings-on.) 

Grilled gator

Went to Pont Breaux for dinner and music. Selected the grilled gator. It was ok, and I won't feel the need to have it again just for the novelty of it. This morning's swamp tour guide had pointed out that farm-raised gator tastes like chicken; wild gator tastes of the swamp. I did ask the server if the gator was farm-raised, and she said it wasn't. Truth be told, the gator-ness of the dish didn't come out too much one way or the other.

There wasn't much happening at the Pont Breaux, seeing as how it was pretty early in the evening and it was Monday. The house band played to a sparse audience. I think they're probably pretty good, but maybe a little lackluster when there isn't that energy exchange between audience and musician. The band members looked a little ... ho hum about it. Another day at the office.
 

Louisiana Road Trip 2011, Part 7: Cajun Country

Monthly jam at Tom's Fiddle & Bow

It's hard to push myself out the cottage door to explore, I'm enjoying so much the quiet daytime solitude inside.

Nevertheless, I did push myself outside and I went for a walk in Arnaudville. I saw a number of cars parked along a side street and went to investigate. Happily, I learned it was the monthly jam at Toms' Fiddle & Bow shop.

Maybe up to 15 men and women playing the fiddle, guitar, accordian, and cello. Singing, too.

Everyone fit tightly but comfortably in the front room, which housed dozens of hanging fiddles and eccentric art pieces.

The ambiance reminded me of bluegrass jams in Missouri and of ceilidhs in Cape Breton.

Tom, the owner, sat on a high, cushioned bench with his Chinese crested hairless dog. Both were friendly. Tom kindly gave me a local paper that lists this week's area music venues.






Later in the afternoon, I took off for Henderson to listen to zydeco at Whiskey River Landing under the Henderson Levee.  Music every Sunday evening. Tonight was Geno Delafose and French Rockin' Boogie.

Vehicles parked below, on the side of and on top of the levee. Cowboy hats. Boots. Ten bucks at the door. Three dollars for a bottle of beer.

Packed dance floor. Many smiles. Kicking music. One of the musicians continuously looked out at the audience, scanning the folks having a good time, while he played his vest frottoir and chewed gum. I wondered what he was thinking; he seemed to be enjoying himself. A perfect perpetual motion thing perhaps: He gives energy via his music, the audience gives him energy in their good-time dancing or toe-tapping, he gives energy via his music ...









It was still light when I arrived at the landing. I saw a row of houseboats.

A pretty big houseboat looked permanently docked next to the bar.

A beautiful marshy view from the bar.


















I took my try at a dance ("1,2,3. 1,2,3.").

I really must learn how to dance.

Today, I also booked a room for part of my time in Dubai later this month. It's a tiny studio flat downtown. 

Louisiana Road Trip 2011, Part 6: Cajun Country

I'm staying in a sweet little cottage in Arnaudville, Louisiana.

Like the cabin at Leroy Percy State Park, this cottage is only $60 per night. Scrumptious exterior, too, and I'll show that in a future post.

I lounged about all morning, then in the afternoon, ventured toward Breaux Bridge for lunch and a little exploring.

Glenda's Creole Kitchen

Today's lunch. Best meal of the trip so far. Glenda's Creole Kitchen.

I drove by Glenda's modest place, my head turning as I went by, then turned around and went back. This is exactly the kind of place I like to check out.

Gar boulettes at Glenda's Cajun Kitchen

I had gar boulettes. Giant fish balls. Spicy goodness. Normally, they would be smothered in gravy, but I took a pass on that. 

Wasn't til later that I learned Glenda's was visited by Anthony Bourdain earlier this year. 







I saw a house that was to be moved.

And I stopped at a satsuma stand (that also sold kumquats, oranges, and grapefruit). Satsuma (mandarin) oranges are juicy-juicy sweet. The skin slips off like a jacket. A little larger than a tangerine. I bought a five-pound bag for $5. Then the owner brought out four singles for me as a lagniappe. 

In Louisiana, they really like their crawfish:

I saw an above-ground cemetery:

"Is the roux in this aisle?" Hahaha! When a woman asked me that in Russell's market in Arnaudville this afternoon, I knew I wasn't in Missouri anymore. My first response was: "A what?" "A roux." "Sorry, I don't know." (Yes, you patronizing chucklers, I do know what a roux is. Some kind of sauce or gravy, right?)

Tonight, in my charming cottage, I did spy a roommate. It was big. Really big. I didn't scream like I did in Nazret when I saw its distant cousin. ... whoops, spoke too soon. Just saw another one. Eek!