An Artistic Version of "Froggin'"

Welcome to Rayne, Frog Capital of the World.

When the railroad came to Pouppeville in 1800, the civic leaders decided to change the town's name to Rayne to honor the engineer who laid the tracks.

But it was a trio of Frenchmen who were responsible for the town's amphibious claim to fame. In the 1880s, a gourmet chef named Donat Pucheu started selling juicy, delectable bullfrogs to New Orleans restaurants. Word of Rayne's frog delicacies spread like wildfire and soon attracted the attention of Jacques and Raymond Weill from France, who started a lucrative business exporting frogs to restaurants. For years, world-renowned restaurants like Sardi's in New York boasted of offering frog legs from Rayne, Louisiana.

The success of the Weill Brothers business helped put Rayne on the map as the Frog Capital of the World. But two other actions have expanded the emphasis on frogs beyond that of their legs.

In 1946, Rayne's froggy reputation was furthered when the International Rice Festival invited Rayne to host the first Frog Derby. In 1972, the first annual Rayne Frog Festival was held.

Rayne no longer exports frogs, but their frog identity is bigger than ever because of a unique array of frog murals. What started as a project initiated by Pat Brignac and Kay Cunningham on the Rayne Beautification Board has turned into a tradition of commissioned murals by artist Robert Dafford (who painted murals in photos #4 and #8 presented here).

Some of the murals relate to the work conducted in the building on which they are painted, e.g., the courtroom scene (photo #2 above) on the side of the town's courthouse and the newspaper scene (photo #5) on the town's newspaper's offices.

Others have a humorous tone, such as the scene on the building here (right), featuring two frogs watching duck hunters in the bayou. It is entitled "Glad it's not us" and was painted by local resident Reginald Simoneax.

Walking around Rayne on a hunt for the 30 frog murals makes for an artistic version of "froggin'" (capturing live frogs).

Second Time Around--15 Years Later

During our first trip to Lafayette-Acadiana Louisiana (six parishes, including towns and cities from New Iberia to Abbeville to Crowley to Lafayette to Opelousas), we were told that Prejean’s restaurant was a “must go to” place. Well, we went, were not impressed, and did not return on subsequent trips to this area. So I was surprised to find a restaurant review web site that contained numerous reviews praising the restaurant’s food. As a result, 15 years after our first visit, we decided to give Prejean’s another chance. We have been back twice. (Greeted by this gator both times.) Either we were there on an off night on the initial trip or the food has improved immeasurably, but the two meals we had in the past two weeks were excellent.

The first trip was for a Saturday lunch. We discovered that having the dinner menu in effect for the entire post-breakfast day is the norm for Saturdays. Both our meals began with salads with the house dressing, parmesan vinaigrette with a hint of Cajun seasoning that lent a faint orange/pink color and a touch of spice. The greens were iceberg lettuce, and after having too many limp field greens in recent months, crisp iceberg was just fine.

Chuck’s meal (Shrimp Louella, below, right) and mine (Crab Cakes Covington) both came with a side of rice dressing and a side of Corn Macqué Choux (pronounced “mok shoo”). Rice dressing, also known as “dirty rice,” is white rice mixed with a form of ground cooked meat and seasoned. The ground meat can be beef, pork, sausage, or ground gizzards and livers. My past experiences with rice dressing have not been positive but this was delicious. The meat and rice combination was moist and seasoned with a fair amount of black pepper.

The Corn Macqué Choux (think of a fancy creamed corn) was served in a tart-like shell that seemed to be a cross between corn bread and shortbread. The corn was mixed with chopped onion and sweet red peppers and seasoned with a Cajun spice of some type.

Both entrees were excellent. The crab cakes were a mixture of seasoned claw, back fin, and lump blue crab meat, covered with bread crumbs, and lightly fried. Then the crab cakes were covered with crawfish Sauce Louis – a combination of mayonnaise, heavy cream, green pepper, and chopped green onion. Normally, Sauce Louis contains chili sauce but I didn’t detect any in this preparation. While the crab cakes were delicious, I was hoping to find more jumbo lump than these contained.

The Shrimp Louella were four jumbo shrimp topped with a crabmeat stuffing that tasted faintly of crawfish boil and then topped with a crab butter cream sauce. I could have eaten a dish of the crabmeat stuffing alone – it was that good. (Had this been dinner, we would have heard a Cajun band during the meal.)

We returned for a weekday lunch and began with two cups of chicken and sausage gumbo. Now gumbo (African for okra) is a traditional Cajun staple that begins with cooking flour and fat until the mixture reaches a chocolate color. At this point, the roux serves less as a thickening agent and more as a seasoning. For thickening, okra is frequently added along with a tableside application of filé powder. The trinity of Cajun cooking (chopped onion, green pepper, and celery) is cooked with the finished roux, meat and sausage or seafood, and stock. Gumbo is served with white rice (preferably on the side) that helps soak up all of the flavors. When done well, gumbo is a symphony of flavors. When done badly – well, we won’t get into that. This was one of the best gumbos I have eaten in any of my trips to Louisiana.

My lunch entrée was the crawfish po’ boy (left, photo below). As someone who has suffered from too much soft fluffy bread the past four months, to have a sandwich on a roll that had some chew, some tooth resistance, was a real treat. The roll was stuffed with good-sized battered and fried crawfish that were seasoned with Cajun spice, and the sandwich was “dressed” – as they say here – with lettuce, tomato, and mayonnaise. This might not sound exciting to you – but it tasted wonderful to me.

Chuck chose the Blackened Shrimp Skillet Creole – six large and blackened shrimp on a bed of red beans and rice with discs of spicy sausage. When I saw this placed on the table, I was concerned that the shrimp had been overcooked – and we all know how painful that can be. Not to worry – somehow the kitchen managed to blacken the seafood while retaining the crisp shrimp texture. The blackening seasoning was highly seasoned (I say highly seasoned as opposed to SPICY!) did not overwhelm the sweet shrimp taste.

Now I will throw my customary modesty aside and admit that I make a killer red beans and rice. The basic recipe comes from one of Emeril Lagasse’s cookbooks, but I have tweaked it somewhat. On the two other times Chuck has ordered red beans and rice during the past two weeks, his first comment is that mine is better. So imagine my distress when he took one bite of Prejean’s, raised his eyes to the heavens, and told me that I had to take a taste. Fortunately, he had the wisdom not to answer my query as to whether he thought these better than mine. I have to admit if not better, these come very close. With just enough liquid to surround the rice without being “soupy”, with just enough seasoning to be interesting, and just enough sausage to impart flavor to the beans – this was a masterful serving of this Cajun classic.
I am certainly glad we decided to give Prejean’s a second (and third) chance.

My only complaint – and this will be reflected in the rating – is that a restaurant of this caliber, whose kitchen executes complicated entrees like the Shrimp Louella and seasons foods to complement and not overwhelm, has no business serving those tablespoon size tubs of “churned spread” instead of real butter with very good French bread. So I am going to deduct one-half an Addie and rate Prejean’s as a 4.5 Addie restaurant.

17,000 Documents in the Attic

The Shadows-on-the-Teche, an antebellum historic house museum property of the National Trust for Historic Preservation, was almost demolished for a parking lot.

Sugarcane planter David Weeks started building the home in 1831 but died before the home was completed. After he died, it was his wife Mary who managed the sugar plantation and its 200+ slaves, located nine hours away and The Shadows' 138 acres that provided the firewood and the year's food for the family and slaves in both locations.

Mary kept meticulous records and saved all invoices and receipts; she even asked people to return letters she sent to them, so historians have all these records.

At one point she had to contend with an overseer whom she wantd to fire. Though a strong person, she had to have her brother come up from New Orleans to fire him, because he " would not be fired by a woman."

However, when Union troops advanced to New Iberia, Gen. Franklin had so much respect for this strong-willed woman that she was allowed to live on the second floor while the troops occupied the first floor. She died at The Shadows in 1863, and the Union troops buried her in the family cemetery on the grounds. When the troops left, they did not burn The Shadows out of respect for Mary.

In 1919, David's great-grandson William Weeks Hall purchased his sister's half for $7500 to save it from demolition. In 1922, he returned from his European art studies and undertook the daunting restoration project. Fortunately, David's wife Mary and other family members were "savers." In the home, some 17,000 invoices, receipts, and letters revealed much about the family and their business.

We have visited other Southern plantations that were more ostentatious than The Shadows, but we have felt a real connection to this plantation home. The feeling is hard to explain, but it seemed as though real people lived in this home, not just entertained in a showpiece.

William also developed the gardens into what some of his guests called his "greatest masterpiece." Guests included numerous artists, writers, and filmakers, such as, Henry Miller, Lyle Saxon, Cecil B. DeMille, Emily Post, D.W. Griffith, and Walt Disney.

This home next door bears a lot of similarity to The Shadows. Until just recently, a distant relative of the original owner of The Shadows lived there. She died at age 101.

William Weeks Hall spent the last years of his life working to find an organization to preserve the Shadows as an historic house museum, and on June 27, 1958, the National Trust for Historic Preservation accepted The Shadows as an historic site. William died the next day.

Cajun Music the Old Way

In Eunice, LA, known as "Louisiana's Prairie Cajun Capital," are the Jean Lafitte National Historical Park and Preserve and, next door, The Liberty Center for the Performing Arts.

The exhibition rooms at the National Park center tell the story of the Cajun people through exhibits of cultural artifacts. An auditorium is used for musical performances that are both informative and entertaining. The day we visited the Park, we heard (left to right) George Sonnier, fiddle; Dules Reed, accordion; and Claudia Wood, guitar.

Claudia showed us an example of a fiddle that was made several years ago with a cigar box at its core. George mentioned that it really did not have the right sound because of the box being rectangular instead of having the curved sides, but, he added, "when you want to play bad enough, this will work fine."

Among the 35 people in the audience were visitors from Georgia, California, Colorado, Pennsylvania, Canada (Quebec), and France.

After sampling some boudin balls prepared in a cooking demonstration at the Park, we walked next door to the Liberty Theater. This grand old theater was constructed in 1924.

When it opened, the Liberty was called "Southwest Louisiana's Premier Temple of Amusement" and boasted running water and "typhoon-cooled" air as well as several dressing rooms for the live acts which would appear onstage.

Over the years, it has been a vaudeville house, a first-run movie venue, and a dollar cinema before finding new life as home to the Saturday night broadcast of the Roundez Vous des Cajuns radio and television show.

In the first year of the radio program, the theater staff were able to book three bands a week. No band was scheduled more than once, and, amazingly, all the bands came from within 60 miles of the theater.

We had the opportunity to hear some very skilled musicians at the Liberty. Among members of the house band were Merlin Fontenot (far left, 85), Bubba Frey, whom we will meet again (second from left, fiddle), and Jerry Devillier (far right, harmonica, 70).

The program was entitled "Cajun Music the Old Way" and the band featured the Touchet Brothers.

In each region we've visited, I've imagined myself playing one of the instruments featured in the music. In this area, my imagined instrument of choice was the Cajun ditonic accordion--for each key there is one note played as the bellows are extended and a second note played when the bellows are retracted.

Let's see . . . .

Step One: Break 5,024 Eggs

The 24th Annual Giant Omelette Celebration, the celebration we began talking about yesterday, was about to begin. Each year chefs from around the world travel to Abbeville, LA, to participate in this event which has become the symbol of a world-wide fraternity (known as the Confrerie) rich in friendship, tradition and cultural exchange.

Late in the morning some 50 chefs from Abbeville and around the world gathered for the group picture. In 1984, three citizens of Abbeville attended the Easter Omelette in Bessieres, France and were knighted the first of Abbeville’s Chevaliers (chefs). To bring Abbeville closer to its French heritage, the city chose to host this celebration. Each year chefs from Bessieres, France; Frejus, France; Dumbea, New Caledonia; Granby, Quebec; Malmedy, Belgium; and Pigue, Argentina are invited to be knighted as chevaliers into Abbevile’s Confrerie. A handful of chefs were knighted this year.

All seemed ready for the procession of the chefs to begin. The flags of the countries represented by the chefs led the procession. Two chefs carried a ceremonial basket of eggs, and two other chefs carried four circular loaves of bread on a bar that was placed through the center hole of each loaf. Two priests were the final entrants in the procession.

The fire was started an hour before the cooking was to begin. The arrival of the cooking "utensils" began with a fork lift lowering the 12-foot diameter omelet pan over the fire.

The five-gallon stock pots into which the eggs would be collected were positioned on the table. [Since they were upside down, I inverted the photo so that the Celebration's logo (an egg with dark glasses) was clearly visible.]

A team of assistants arranged the instruments used to stir the giant omlet.

Before the serious work began, the chefs led the crowd in the Pledge of Allegiance and a local woman led the singing of the national anthem. There was an international welcome in French and a moment of silence for chefs in the fraternity who had died in the past year.

Then the preparations began. A coating of oil was the first ingredient to be added to the pan. Then came the 52 pounds of butter, 50 pounds of onions, 75 Bell Peppers, some crawfish tails, parsley, salt, and pepper.

All was ready for the addition of the final ingredients. The 5,024 eggs had been beaten by larger mixers and 6-1/2 gallons of milk had been combined with the eggs. Each of the large stock pots was emptied into the omelet pan.

Then the stirring began. The aim seemed to be to keep the contents of the whole pan in motion. With this plan, it took a long, long time for the eggs to begin to set. But, the organizers have been doing this for 24 years, so I will assume they know how to prepare the omlet.

A final "too-many-cooks . . ." observation. It seemed that several of the chefs were given the instruction: "Go stand in front of the people with cameras and engage in random conversation with each other."

Photographing the work at the pan was a challenge, as you can see by the number of bodies and toques between us and the pan.

And no, we did not wait to eat any of the omelet (or scrambled eggs).

Abbeville Celebration: Preparation

Abbeville was having a celebration. Located in Vermilion Parish ("The Most Cajun Place on Earth"), Abbeville was preparing for the celebration when we arrived early in the morning.

There were signs of Abbeville's history throughout the downtown area. This Rexall Drugs sign caught our attention, not having seen one for many years.

We arrived so early that the main street where the celebration was to be held was virtually deserted.

On the opposite side of the street, we found these two people also waiting for the crowds to appear. Later in the morning, we saw the gentleman checking with vendors and making program announcements.

On the corner of the main celebration street was the bank. Many vendors were located around the corner, and it was here that we met Paul Benoit, who was preparing what he claims is "the world's best jambalaya." Paul is a teacher in the industrial arts program at the local tech school and also enjoys his hobby--making jambalaya.

This pot will yield 150 pounds of that marvelous food in each batch. He explained his recipe and technniques to me while his two sons helped with the preparation.

He also told me the story of how he obtained this recipe and even told me what his secret ingredient is. Being entrusted with that information after only a 15-minute conversation was pretty amazing, so I couldn't possibly pass that along.

The aroma from the pot was so enticing that I had to have a bowl--even though it was only 10:00 a.m. The meat (Boston Butt and spicy andouille sausage) was done to perfection, the rice was cooked with the meat and seasoning so that with every bite I tasted all the flavors. And at the completion of each bite there was little spicy reminder (due to the seasoning and sausage) in the back of my throat. Wonderful.

Before the formal celebration began, there was a performance by the Berard Family Band. Al Berard was with The Basin Brothers when we first heard the group in New Orleans about 18 years ago. We caught them on about three other occasions on trips to this area many years ago and even heard them at the Kosciusko Polish-American Veterans Club in Philadelphia many years ago. It was good to hear him again.

Along with several food vendors, was a block devoted to classic cars. This 1931 Model A Closed Cab Pickup caught our eye.

I thought of my uncle Hank when I saw this 1943 Model LA John Deere tractor.


That pretty well covers the preparations for the celebration. Tomorrow we will cover the afternoon's events.

Let the procession begin.

Ode to the Onion Ring

Once in awhile we are fortunate to come upon an eatery that elicits raves. And sometimes in those eateries there is a dish that moves one to literary expression.

There it was—a modest shack with an immodest name: Boudin King. Located in Crowley, LA, the King served gumbo (chicken and sausage, seafood) po’ boys (oyster, shrimp, catfish, and sausage), platters (stuffed shrimp, catfish, oyster, shrimp, and the mixed seafood), and boudin (hot, cold, or frozen).

The first time we ate here, Kate ordered the shrimp po’ boy and I ordered the catfish po’ boy. After we had placed our order, Kate noticed the plate of onion rings that another customer had ordered. We quickly revised our order, but we couldn’t wait for the onion rings to begin our meal.

Midway through our meal, the onion rings arrived—perfection to the eye and the taste buds. I raved about these and was moved to put my thoughts into a poem.

We quickly made plans to return the next day, so we could take a photograph with the complete meal (of course). This time Kate ordered the seafood platter (four fried oysters, one stuffed shrimp, two fried shrimp, and four good-size fried catfish strips) and fried okra; Mr. “I-found-something-I-like-so-stay-with-it” had my catfish po’ boy and fries. (When you consider this meal, look beyond the common characteristic of “fried.”)

And that glorious small order of onion rings.

I had the beginnings of my tribute to the onion rings composed, so we brought along an onion to use in this photograph. Finding onion rings in a restaurant that are as good as Kate's was both surprising and inspirational. Hence, the following:



ODE TO THE ONION RING

Behold! The onion transformed:
from multi-layered orb
with a menacing bite
and tears of pain--
through many a cut,
a buttermilk dip,
a sprinkle of heat,
a dusting of flour,
and a hot oil bath--
into multi rings of crunch
with a spirited bite,
bringing tears of joy.
--Chuck Schrader ©
10/29/08


After the meal, we headed to the American Legion Hall in Rayne for the Last Friday of the Month Jam. When we walked into the large Hall, about 20 pair of eyes followed us. Kate greeted the couple seated at the first long table with: "Hello, folks. We hear this is the place to hear some really good music." That couple invited us to join them, and after half an hour, we were being introduced as their friends from Philadelphia.

Unlike all other jams we have attended in the past four months, performers here had electric instruments, so it took awhile for the musicians to get set up. The evening began with a grandfather (singer) and grandson (accordion) leading a group (drummer, steel guitar, guitar, and bass guitar).

About an hour into the jam, other musicians arrived—and the jam took off. We later learned that the accordionist was Junior Melancon (center, with the white light on his cap), and people around us thought that the guitarist (center, with the black hat) and the bass player (far left) were also with Junior's group, The Come Down Playboys, which is well-known in the region.

To say Junior is an animated accordionist is an understatement. He is in constant motion, virtually assaulting the instrument. There are times when he seems to vibrate in time with his playing. This photograph was taken between songs, so it's relatively clear.

A day with memorable onion rings--and jam.