Sunday, February 28, 2010


After dinner out on Friday night (what happened to our plan of restraint?) at Prejean’s with an interesting couple we met here at Poche’s, we decided we need a day of rest on Saturday – meaning, little driving and just one Cajun meal.

The Atchafalaya Swamp Liz and Robert, our dinner companions from Friday night, had mentioned Pat’s Fishermans Wharf, just a few miles away in Henderson, as having a good reputation with the locals.  It was of particular interest to me because Pat’s is located on the “dry” side of the levee – just the other side from the huge Atchafalaya Swamp.  So, after two laps around the ponds, off we went for another po’boy experience.

The po’boys… better than what we had in Texas, but not as good as the those at Suire’s (which have the benefit of being a 5-year old memory).  Great bread, good catfish… but the sauce seemed lacking to me.  Maybe I’m experiencing Cajun overkill?

Our waitress was a 60+ year old, no-nonsense, petite Cajun lady.  Conversation was kept to a minimum, food delivery was speedy and straight-forward.  It took me by surprise, then, when she asked how I liked the pecan pie I had for dessert.

Fried Catfish Po'BoyThe “real” answer would have been “too small, too sweet, too much vanilla, should have been served room temperature instead of almost freezing cold, and the crust is thick and gummy”. (Odel and I had already discussed the pie’s shortcomings in detail – it was the low point of the otherwise good meal.)  Instead, I just smiled and said “fine”.

Her next words: “Where you from?”

Me: “California”.

Her, pointing at Odel: “This yo-ah husband?”

I didn’t quite catch what she said, since my ear is not attuned to the rolling Cajun speech.  Since she was pointing at Odel, I assumed she asked where he was from, and I said “Memphis”. 

Pat's Fisherman's WharfShe spoke again, enunciating more clearly: “Is he your husband?”

I said “yes”, and she, this petite, hardworking and seemingly hard-living lady, said “He a pretty man”.  At my look of astonishment, she added “a handsome man” – like maybe I didn’t get her meaning.  When I agreed, she told me – in a long sentence heavy with dropped syllables and new-to-me words - I’d better keep my eye on him (and apparently all who might try to tempt him away). 

Well, you know what I had to put up with all the way home from The Pretty Man.  :)  Guess I’d better watch my step!  Excuse me while I go fix myself up…


  1. Oh, Laurie, did Odel's head even FIT in the car after that comment from the waitress? But I have to agree with her...Odel is a very "pretty man". Bobbie

  2. I love it.. sounds Like South lousiana to me... have many fond memories of Cajun country.


  3. Oh, dear! I am so sorry for you, Laurie.

    By the way, we now call your blog The Food Channel. Since we don't get that here, your blog is the next best thing.


  4. Odel, you fox you!!! Bet you won't live that one down...

  5. Poor Odel -- he may never live that description down!

    Ken and Nanette

  6. Great post. I really had to chuckle at the way your wrote it! I don't comment often but I always read your posts. Thanks for writing!

  7. Watch out Odel! Those Cajun boys are just as slick.

  8. I don't think Odel will ever WANT to live it down. After all, he is a pretty man! Hang on tight, girlfriend!

  9. Odell IS a pretty man!

  10. Well Laurie, Frank said he always knew Odel "was pretty man" especially is his chef hat-- he just didn't want to tell him so--cause he couldn't remember if you had a sunroof in your jeep (for his head & all)--:)

  11. That is just too funny--yes, you better hang on to Odel Laurie!

  12. I was thinking the same thing when I met Odel !

    I was also wondering where you met him?


  13. Pretty Odel in Cajun country reminds me of a little story.

    About 8 years ago my sister in law and her husband moved to Lafayette LA., Brad went down a few weeks early to get the house set up.

    He had been there 2 or 3 days when there was a knock on the door,when he opened the door there stood a man of about 5 foot 4, a hundred and twenty pounds at the most, scraggly sun bleach hair and a dark leathery weather beaten face. On his head cocked crooked and almost falling off was a 30 year old Rajun Cajun baseball hat that was barely held together with a few threads, he was wearing a faded, ripped Mardi Gras tee shirt that appeared to say 1993, a pair of faded, patched Levi's that were cut off and frayed at the knees and a pair of open toed sandals that were so small that his feet hung over the sides.

    He immediately stuck out his had a said Meh How Y'all Doin' ney-bor, Ima Dru Thibodeaux ana I wanta say you welcome to da steet, through his toothless smile, he grabbed Brad's hand and shuck it so violently brad could barley get it back. Brad told him it was nice to meet him and asked what he could do for him? No no what I do you for friend, he went on to explain. There be a little gatherin ata my hauss ta nite and ya- al got an invite, we gonna hav al diffent kins of drink and food kinds ya nevr dreamed of. We ganna drunk some, then et a litle cajun, then we drunk a litle more then we cut up da rug to som swamp music, then we gonna drunk a litle mor. Wea kepa donin this til da mida of da nite den we go crazy.
    Brad asked him what he meant by going crazy?
    Dats when the fun begones, everybodie gets to rippig all der cloths of an ruunin round doing ana crazy sex youa be wanten wit whoa ever youa can catch.
    Brad gave it a little thought then figured what the hell you gotta meet the neighbors sooner or later might as well be tonight, so he told Dru that he would love to attend, as Dru was walking down the steps Brad called to him and asked. Hey Dru I've never been to a party like this before, what should I where.
    Ahh it dont matter it's only gonna be you n me.

  14. Dear Laurie and Odel,

    First of all condolences for the lost of Luna. Having lost my wife Betty in 2003 and our dog Molly in 2008 I know how devastating it is to lose someone you love - human, dog or cat, it really doesn't matter.

    On a lighter note, in the early 90's when I was car pooling with a neighbor when Odel happened to walk in front of us while crossing Q Street on his way to work. I commented that Odel was my boss and she said and I quote, "He's really a good looking man, is he married?" So there you are. That waitress in Mississippi must be right. My question - what does being good looking have to do with marriage?


  15. Great story, Laurie. Poor Odel is going to be getting a lot of ragging when you meet up with RVing friends who follow your blog! I foresee a few gag gifts in the future!