Roadfood_ Revised Edition - Jane Stern [119]
This old ice cream shop with its deco-stucco exterior is a blast from the past, and not only for the soda-jerking expertise of the lady behind the counter. It is in fact a genuine Borden’s dairy store, complete with cartoon images of mascot Elsie the Cow above the entryway and seating at five booths upholstered in lipstick-red leatherette.
Boudin King
906 W. Division St.
337–824–6593
Jennings, LA
BLD | $
Yes, the boudin at Boudin King is wonderful—densely packed, spicy, and deeply satisfying. Buy it mild or hot, by the link; it is a Cajun classic. But so is just about everything else on the menu of this unlikely source of greatness. We say “unlikely” because Boudin King appears to be a fast-food restaurant, even including a drive-through window. Meals are served on disposable plates. Prices are little more than McJunkfood.
And yet here is stupendously good gumbo, smoky-flavored and thick with sausage and big pieces of chicken. And speaking of chicken, we would rate the fried chicken served by Boudin King as some of the most delicious in southern Louisiana, a part of the world where frying chicken is a fine, fine art. Other specialties include crawfish in the spring and nice fried pies for dessert.
The late Ellis Cormier, who founded this place back in the 1970s, once told us, “Nowhere else in America, except perhaps where the Mexicans live, is food properly spiced.” Monsieur Cormier was one of the leading lights in America’s rediscovery of its regional food, of Cajun food in particular. It was primarily thanks to his good cooking that in 1979 the Louisiana State Legislature proclaimed Jennings “The Boudin Capital of the Universe.”
Brenda’s Diner
409 W. Pershing
337–367–0868
New Iberia, LA
BLD | $
Brenda’s brought tears of joy to our eyes. “It doesn’t get better than this,” we agreed out loud halfway through lunch of fried chicken, fried pork chops, red beans with sausage, rice and gravy, candied yams, and smothered cabbage. Each dish Brenda Placide had cooked was the best version of itself that we have had since, maybe, forever. The pork chop was audibly juicy with a tender taste that had us gnawing to the bone. The chicken’s fragile crust shored in juice-dripping meat. The red beans were New Iberia hot; the smothered cabbage, speckled with nuggets of garlicky sausage, brought high honor to the vegetable kingdom.
We ate this soul-stirring food in a tidy little dining room where a CD of southern gospel music set a rapturous tone. There are seats for no more than twenty people. The neighborhood is run-down, but the diner is immaculate inside; the walls are a gallery of Brenda’s gratitude: prints and posters celebrating African American culture, as well as photos marking the achievements of Brenda’s kin (graduations, weddings, reunions).
We had to ask her how she cooks such magnificent food, but we weren’t surprised when she had no satisfactory answer. “It’s from my mamma’s kitchen,” she said. “I cannot tell you how to do it because she never taught me to measure anything. You add seasoning and spice until it’s right.” It occurred to us that even if we studied Brenda as she cooked, taking scrupulous notes about every grain of every ingredient she used, we couldn’t in a lifetime make food like this. It would be like watching Isaac Stern play the violin, then copying his every move.
Café des Amis
140 E. Bridge St.
337–332–5273
Breaux Bridge, LA
BLD | $$
A sign in the window of Café des Amis boasts that it is “the essence of French Louisiana.” It’s the real deal, all right, a French-accented mix of South and Soul, with a dash of Caribbean spice and Italian brio. But it’s ridiculous to try to define it by its roots; better to describe what it is.
At breakfast, it is beignets, little crisp-edged twists of fried dough under an avalanche of powdered sugar, or Oreille de Couchon, a long strip of fried dough named because it resembles a pig’s ear,