I’m in a novel reading obsession again, learning about boudin and beignets and crawfish boils. Because I love reading authors who know how to set a mood and are masters at imagery, I’ve been enjoying James Lee Burke’s Dave Robicheaux novel series. I’ve read them before, so this time around I’m noticing more detail about the interesting people and unique setting he chose for these memorable stories.
Most of this series is set in Louisiana – New Orleans and New Iberia in particular – and he often describes the local food and appetites of his colorful cast of characters in detail. He’s one of the few authors I’ve read who can write dialogue with excellence. I didn’t know what boudin was, so I looked it up. That clinched it – I had to try some out.
One of my 2019 New Year’s resolutions is to do something new every month. As an old homebody by nature and nurture, I can become tightly entrenched in a rut of my own making. When I told Storm, my youngest son, my ‘new thing’ for this past June was to watch all 5 seasons of Leverage (which I accomplished, thank you very much!), he was not impressed.
So, because of his disappointment in his momma, I went online and found a Cajun restaurant close by my home, drove myself there (the whole 2 miles or so), and enjoyed some boudin and a crawfish cake Sunday after church. To make it more authentic, I took my Burke novel with me and read it while I ate.
I must say, the boudin balls were good – not as flavorful as I anticipated after watching a youtube video on how to prepare them, but the crawfish cake was excellent – the sauce was wonderful and the presentation was nice, too. In my inexperienced opinion, the ratio of rice to pork and other ingredients was too high. White rice doesn’t have much flavor on its own, so it’s a good thing the dipping sauce was full of zing.
My server was efficient, but I wasn’t very successful at getting her to smile or interact much with me. I think she was a girl. But I’m not positive. She might have been identifying as a boy, but the way people present themselves to the world by the way they dress and do their hair nowadays I’m not quite sure. I was considered a tomboy growing up (I know, old-fashioned term) but I never forgot I was a girl. I roughhoused with the boys, but when it was all said and done, a girl I was and have always been. And I like being a girl. Each gender has its advantages and disadvantages. That’s why we complement each other so well. Guys are good at certain things and girls are good at other things. It’s worked fine for many centuries. I don’t know why it’s suddenly bad. It’s as if today’s modern society has evolved to the point they believe they know more than God. Sad, indeed.
My server seemed inwardly unhappy or discontent, I’m not sure which, or both. When I see that in someone, it usually stirs up some inner desire in me to make them smile. I’d like to help make their day nicer. I asked her opinion on what was good and thanked her for her help.
I recently experienced the suicide of a friend who was struggling with depression I wasn’t aware of, so my spidey senses are heightened right now. I read some statistics about transgender people who have more tendencies toward depression and suicide, so when I noticed my server was not your typical smiling waitress/waiter, it kicked my maternal instincts into high gear.
Hopefully, I was able to accomplish making her less unhappy, if even in a small measure. I did give her a good tip, so I’m sure that helped.
For my next month’s new adventure, I think I’ll go for a helicopter tour. Yep. Sounds about right.
What new thing are you doing?
