Louisiana is known for its beautiful scenery, mysterious swamps and, most of all, her scrumptious food.

If you’ve never had a steaming bowl of dark, spicy chicken and sausage gumbo, you’re missing out. Some of the best Louisiana eating is in the spring because it’s crawfish season.

I remember my dad boiling crawfish. He’d set up folding tables in the back yard and cover them with layers of newspaper.

My mom would place paper towels on the tables, and Dad would fire up the propane burner. He’d always dump a couple of boxes of crawfish seasoning in the big pot of water on the burner. He added small potatoes and corn on the cob to the pot for, in Louisiana lingo, a bit of “lagniappe” – something extra.

As kids, we loved picking up the live crawfish and chasing each other with the mudbugs until it was time for them to go in the water. When Dad believed the crawfish were cooked, he’d drain the crawfish from the pot and dump the cooked crawfish on the table.

There was a system – when the first batch of crawfish was eaten, we’d roll up the newspaper with the shells inside, dump that in the trash can, and put down a clean, dry layer of newspaper.

Then it was time for round two, and we’d peel and eat crawfish until we thought we’d bust. The potatoes and corn were too spicy for me, but not for my red-pepper-loving relatives.

I thought about them when driving through Louisiana this past weekend and the memories from those get togethers. There are billboards up and down I-10 advertising places to eat, each one making me miss Louisiana food.

Most of the time, I’m in a hurry to get to Baton Rouge and a hurry to get home, so I’ll pull into an interstate fast-food joint. They’re convenient and as bland as bland can get.

I didn’t want to leave Louisiana without having some Cajun food. Sulphur’s near the state line, and I was running out of choices.

That’s when I saw a sign for The Boiling Point restaurant. I turned on my blinker and saw a building that looked like it had been there for years.

The parking lot was filled with mud-caked pick-up trucks, and I knew I was in the right spot. Metal tables and chairs offered lots of places to sit, and decorations were sparse. I wanted to get back on the road, so I asked the nice lady behind the counter for a suggestion for something quick I could eat in the car.

She suggested a pistolette. She said they’re small rolls filled with the customer’s choice of seafood and cheese. Because it’s crawfish season, I chose that.

I left a few minutes later, bag in hand, and got back in my car. I opened the foil and the pistolette looked like she’d described it.

But when I took a bite, it was heaven.

Big, thick crawfish tails were mixed with a creamy cheese sauce, and the roll was hot and crunchy on the outside, just like freshly baked French bread.

I wished I’d ordered a dozen of those, and I was thankful I’d taken the time to stop in at a local restaurant.

So many times, we go to the chains to eat. We overlook the places that have been around for years, or the restaurant that’s not shiny and new.

But when we take a detour and a chance on a locally-owned restaurant, that’s an opportunity to experience something wonderful.

There are still quite a few locally owned restaurants right here in our community. Take a chance and support the families that allow us to enjoy the meals their families have enjoyed for generations.

Dedicate the extra time to stop in and order from a real menu, eat with a metal fork and knife and have your food served on a real plate, not from a sheet of wax paper.

Slow down, pull in and sit a spell. The time you spend at a local spot is time well spent.

 

      This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.