Cajun maisons

Hi everyone, Gulliver here, reporting from Natchez on the Mississippi River, in Mississippi. Jamie and Pam are having a bit of a break here, just poking around this historic town and readying themselves for a week in New Orleans.

While, like you, I've been reading their blog daily and have enjoyed their postings on the food, music and culture of the US, I have to be honest with you and say they have missed out on telling you all about the best bits (well, in my opinion). I mean the houses. They're terrific here. Well worth standing in front of, spending endless hours just admiring the garden and lawn. It's what we gnomes like to do, and do best. And so here's my tour of assorted Louisiana houses (and sometimes you might even spot me doing what I love best: standing in front of houses).

As I mentioned earlier, we're at Natchez, on the Mississippi. I think the boat is just a tourist prop: it hasn't moved since we arrived.

To kick off our tour of Louisiana houses, Jamie has done another one of his little pan shots, taken at a 're-created historic village' in Lafayette. The good thing about this village is that all the houses are the real deal, dismantled at their original sites, plank by plank, then re-erected at the village. There's about a dozen buildings here, the oldest is from the 1820s, and if you ask me, the whole setting is a bit cute, but the houses are fascinating. But I'll let Jamie do his pan shot thing now, and then I'll show you some photos.

I really like this old house at the Acadian village, well worth standing in front of.

This one at the Acadian Village, with the water views, must be worth a fortune.

In another town in Acadiana, Opelousas, they've done the same 'historic village' thing with genuine old houses. This is the original doctor's house in Opelousas, where patients came to visit for well over 100 years (no, the doctor wasn't that old, it was a tag-team father-and-son thing).

The nice thing about these old historic houses is that they haven't overly 'tarted them up'. They proudly show off their signs of age.

Now, let's move onto houses outside the historic villages, the ones in the various towns of the district. Here's a smattering of some of the best photos taken by Pam.

Those young trees are the super popular crepe myrtles, which are everywhere here.

All the paint shops must have big, big stocks of white paint. It's the best seller.

One plant which really thrives in this area is the cycad known as the Japanese sago palm. Haven't seen a a sick one yet, all are very lush, green and healthy.

Nice shutters.

Even the humblest houses are fronted with a huge lawn. This area is the home of the ride-on mower.

Not all houses are crisply painted in white, with neatly trimmed hedges. There's a lot of shabby chic in the region, too.

Rocking chairs and porches, we've seen a few thousand around here.

I should get danger money standing under this old joint in New Iberia. One good strong gust of wind, or the next hurricane, and whammo!

Where would you start with this old place at Breaux Bridge? I know.... leave it alone, it's lovely!

You won't find me in this photo, because I'd drown if I tried to stand there. This is a house boat, and the greenery is a tangle of the bayou's prettiest and most aggressive weed, the hyacinths.

And I'm not here, either, but this wonderful little landing next to a very, very modest shack by the bayou proves that it's not the house, it's the lifestyle that really matters sometimes. Drop a line, sit back and hope the fish don't wake you.

And so that concludes my update on the best bits. Jamie has done another pan shot from the banks of the Mississippi, but he has asked me to correct one misleading impression he created in the commentary. He thought the riverboats took tourists on trips to plantations, but this one doesn't (it must be another town where that happens). Clearly the boy needs a rest. The next time you'll hear from him will be New Orleans, where his bon temps will no doubt be rouleting along once more.

Cheerio! Gulliver.

Two-steppin' in Cajun Country

Having toe-tapped our way across Austin Texas, our next musical destination was Lafayette, Louisiana, the heart of Acadiana, or Cajun Country, where accordions rule, whether in the form of traditional Cajun music or the amped-up, revved-up variant called Zydeco, which the African Americans play with such verve.

The moment we entered Louisiana we started to do stupid things. No, there weren't any alligators lurking nearby, but this grinning galoot is about to discover that 35,000 mosquitoes had him surrounded and were hungry for Aussie blood. Even when we got back to the car and swiped ourselves down we still had a few thousand of the little bloodsuckers on us, and it took us many miles of driving to finally get rid of them all from inside the car. Welcome to Bayou Country!

We didn't waste any time once we got to Lafayette. We headed out to Randols, a restaurant and Cajun dance place out in the Lafayette 'burbs. Our good friend Lorna had warned us "whatever you do, don't eat at Randols" and so we ate at Randols – and survived! The food was actually pretty good; they must have fed the old, dud chef to the gators since Lorna was here.

Playing that night at Randols was a Cajun band called Low Maintenance, and while these guys played really well, they did like a good few minutes between songs while they joked around on stage and discussed what they were going to play next.

We loved the very relaxed lead singer/accordionist, who checked his mobile phone messages while the fiddler did his solos.

The crowd wasn't large that Wednesday night, but there were some dedicated two-steppers who danced to every tune, and this pair were the winners of our unofficial Fred & Ginger award for best dancers.

Thought it's the fall season, the evenings are warm and balmy and dancers work up a sweat, but no worries. In two corners of the room industrial-size cooling fans whirred and thrummed away all night.

A few times in our Lafayette stay we came across amazing dance venues that didn't have anything scheduled that day. This superb open-air space is at the Acadian Folk Heritage village in Lafayette. It looks a bit like a giant Australian outback woolshed, and it's purpose-built for Cajun dances.

In the background (with the yellow walls) is the stage; there are tables and benches everywhere for people to eat and have a drink; those giant cooling fans in all four corners, and plenty of parking space nearby for hundreds of big pickup trucks.

Another venue that wasn't playing when we drove by was the Atchafalaya Club at Henderson.

Two miles down the road from the Atchafalaya Club, on the other side of the levee bank, right on the bayou, was McGee's Landing, which I featured in Tummy Time 4 recently. Now, we thought we were going to hear some Cajun music at McGees, as the person there on the day we first visited said that dinners started at 6, the band at 7 on Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. So we arrived on Friday night at 6, had dinner, and by 7.30 there was still no band. "Oh no, said the waitress, on Fridays the band doesn't start playing till the football is over. They'll be here by 10 or 10.30."

And so we jumped in our car and moved on to Breaux Bridge a few miles away and came across the Breaux Pont Cajun Restaurant, where Lee Benoit and his band were playing and the folks were having a great old time.

The foyer of the Breaux Pont had a board listing all the people who have played here, and not many venues can boast a line-up as varied, and famous, as this lot. I wonder how the locals liked Bob Dylan?

Not yet finished that Friday night, on the way back to our hotel we spotted a band playing at the Filling Station, right across the road from our hotel. We never did learn that band's name, but they were fun, too, just playing out in the courtyard outside the restaurant.

The next day we noticed there was a music festival on at Rayne, about 8 miles west of Lafayette, and so we headed there. Even though Rayne is a smallish town, they have a huge covered outdoor area with a stage in the centre, again purpose-built for hosting music gigs. We left when the sad country singers came on, and promised to stay sad for the next hour. It was fun until the Zydeco stopped.

That afternoon (we pack it in!) we headed down to New Iberia where they were having a Gumbo Cookoff, with entertainment from Zydeco bands provided in yet another purpose-built outdoor music stage and dance area. Every town seems to have one of these great venues, and the locals come out in droves to take part in the fun. These are all family days, with every known age-group there. The difference between the Rayne event and the New Iberia event is that Rayne was an all-white crowd, while New Iberia was much more of a mix of ethnicities.

So let's finish off with 20 or so seconds of Geno Delafose and his zydeco band having fun in New Iberia. I love the zydeco rhythm and verve, but I am always blown away by the lyrics. This one is called "My Baby Loves Zydeco" and that's about it for lyrics. There's another one called "Who's got my hot sauce?" and that's all the lyrics you need to know to sing along to that one, too.

As usual we're playing catch-up with our blogs, because Pammy and I have moved on from Cajun Country, and we're doing this blog from our hotel room in Natchez, on the banks of the Mississippi River, up in the state of Mississippi. We're having a brief stay here just to look at some of those old plantation houses, and then we're heading down to New Orleans, where I've been told there is more great music and food awaiting us.

Let the bon temps roulet!

Tummy time USA (5)

We've made it to Lafayette in Louisiana, the heart of Cajun Country, and there's a big list of foods I have to try here, so the best place to start is with breakfast. Now, these 'tummy time' postings can be a little misleading. Pam and I are being quite good about breakfast, often eating bowls of cereal and fresh fruit for two days out of three, and on the third day we hit the local diners. At the diners and cafes Pam usually orders oatmeal – good old porridge – and it's available everywhere and is pretty good. On the other hand I dive into the world of American ethnic foods again and again, putting my body and tastebuds on the line in the interests of scientific tummy timing. Here goes....

Should you ever stay in Lafayette, do enjoy breakfast at Dwyers on Rue Jefferson, it's a fine place to start the day, and quite cheap. It was almost packed when we wandered past, but there was a spare table for us.

Breakfast Number 3 there consisted of two eggs (sunny side up, yum) with sausage patties and biscuit. It was the biscuit which I was interested in. Now, biscuits in Australia are what Americans call cookies, and the American 'biscuit' most closely resembles an Australian scone. I've heard that in some American restaurants biscuits are bland, dry and hard as a rock (just like a badly made scone). I was in luck this time round, as the chef in Dwyers' kitchen was a very good cook.

My biscuit was light and airy, perfect for dunking into eggy leftovers on the plate. 'Biscuits and gravy' is a popular dish here, and I presume it could be nice if very well cooked, and pretty dire if not, but I suspect its popularity is all in the gravy.

On our first morning in Lafayette we had breakfast at The French Press, a trendy cafe that cost twice as much as Dwyers and was not really any better. We loved breakfast at Dwyers. This time, at the French Press, I decided it was time to try some grits. From the photo above you can see good old sunny side ups again, plus the rounds of sausage (a large diameter, coarse, country-style, peppery sausage). The grits is the yellow stuff in the bowl.

Well, to be more accurate, the grits is under the baked, yellow cheese topping in the bowl.

The grits are a white porridge underneath, and for the life of me I cannot imagine what anyone sees in grits. Talk about bland! I could only eat about two to three spoonfuls of the stuff before I gave up. Think of it as semolina without the charisma. Pam also had some grits (with eggs and bacon) and she said that her grits were also bland, but the addition of something sweet might help, because the cheese didn't do much for it. I don't think I could bother experimenting: tick grits off the list, Jamie, and move on, I say (but any helpful tips from US readers will be gladly appreciated).

Moving on from breakfast I am delighted to report that we had lunch in a cheesy American Diner at last. Mel's Diner on Johnston Street, Lafayette.

We both had burgers at Mel's, and they were fine, the iced tea was nice too but it was the decor we were there for.

We enjoyed a more interesting lunch at Opelousas, which is about 20 miles north of Lafayette. A local cafe advertised that it had created the 'multi-award-winning Pearl Harbor Salad' which has won a couple of salad-making competitions in the area. As you can see from the photo it's a curious mix of nuts, broccoli florets, salad greens, chicken breast chunks, bacon pieces, mandarin sections, strawberries, feta cheese, almonds, sunflower seeds and ramen noodles. With a balsamic dressing on the side, it was very nice indeed.

Also in Opelousas we delved into some deeply ethnic, tasty and probably very unhealthy treats. Ray's and Billy's is a local institution, specialists in boudin balls and cracklins.

We were there Saturday morning and the queue was long yet patient. Everyone except me knew what they wanted and had been there before. You could tell I was the tourist, I was the one taking the photos. When I finally made it to the counter I threw myself on their mercy and explained that I didn't have a clue what to order. "No problems, honey" the nice lady drawled "I'll just fix you four cracklins and two boudin balls, that'll be $3.55, and you can come back for more if you want to."

Cracklins are baked pieces of pork belly, tossed in spices first then baked till quite crunchy on the outside, but still with enough give that they won't break your teeth. As long as you aren't a pork hater, these are of course very delicious indeed, but we felt very saintly only gobbling down these four. A long term addiction to these is possible and probably always ends in heart attacks.

Boudin balls are deep-fried balls of boudin sausage stuffing. The Cajun style of Boudin isn't a pure meat sausage at all: it is a mix of pork and rice. However if you Google 'boudin' you'll find there are white, black, red and all sorts of other variations of boudin to be found. Pam only had one bite and I polished off the rest, and after that I didn't feel like eating anything else for lunch that day. Like all Cajun foods they're spicy, with a glow of cayenne pepper lingering for quite some time after eating them.

Let's move on to dinner now, and the nicest venue for dinner, by far, was McGee's Landing, at Henderson. The best way to show you the view from this pleasant dining room is one of my pan shots, so here goes...

McGee's Landing offers up a classic Cajun menu, which includes a lot of deep-fried seafood, but they also made the best Gumbo I have tried here in Cajun Country (this is the third one I've tried in three days). Gumbos can be seafood, shrimp, chicken or sausage, but I've been sticking to the seafood gumbos. As you can see it's a dark brown colour, as they all are, because the basis for all gumbos is a roux of very slowly cooked flour and butter that, if properly done, forms a deep dark brown flavour base to which all the other ingredients are added. All the gumbos I've tried have been very good. They can be served as large bowls of soup, but all restaurants offer gumbo in a cup, like this, with a bowl of long-grain rice on the side. Looking around the restaurants, most people were enjoying a cup of gumbo as a starter. Being a Cajun food, of course it's mildly hot and spicy.

One of the notable things about cookery around here is that it's competitive. As we drove down streets, walked through towns, we saw posters here and there for all sorts of 'cook-offs' of various ingredients. As soon as we have breakfast this morning we're off to the Gumbo cook-off at nearby New Iberia, but pictured below are some of the other cook-offs happening in Cajun Country right now.

I think the winner here might not be the best boudin cook, rather the best boudin maker.

Okra is a major ingredient in some, but not all, gumbos (in fact 'gumbo' is the alternative name here for okra). All these cook-offs are also a street festival and music festival at all times. They're serious about them. This Okra cook-off was just a one-day event, but the Gumbo Festival in New Iberia is a three-day event!

Yikes! Poor little blighters. Hopefully they can read and know to skee-daddle from Opelousas on that weekend.

After we have our fill of competitive gumbo and zydeco music today in New Iberia, we're driving north and staying in Natchez, Mississippi for two nights (before heading down to New Orleans). Natchez is right on the Mississippi River, there are lots of big old plantation homes to ogle at and hopefully they make a mean mint julep up there as well. Once we get there I can tell you all about Cajun and Zydeco music, as well as the many amazing venues they have built all around the region for the community to get out there and enjoy great music and food.