King Biscuit Festival Day 2

Up and at ‘em!  It’s Day 2 for King Biscuit Blues Fest in Helena, Arkansas!

To save some time, we decided to stop by Mickey D’s for breakfast.  We just need something to tide us over until we can get some lunch.  The place was busy with all kinds of folks.  There were the older gentlemen in their suits who looked as though they had just come from church.  They were very snazzy looking.  I swear one of them had on a zoot suit.  They even had their fedora with them.

There were kids and families in the play area.  I looked in to check out the nice big area they had to run around in.  I noticed a table with a display shining on it for a board game.  How cool was that.  The group of kids around the table were having a great time playing.

After finishing up, we headed down the road to Helena.  This time, we went in the front way and not along the side road on the river.  At the bridge going up, my stomach did a couple of little flips.  I really have a hard time with heights.

Traffic was light as we got into town and turned to head toward the center of the old side of town and the levee.  The young ladies were in place to rent out their parking lot.  We pulled in and paid our $5 to park in the best spot in town.

We immediately loaded up the wagon and remembered to bring out jackets this time.  The daytime temperature was supposed to be sunny and 79 with a light breeze off the river.  Tonight’s temperatures would promise to be even chiller than the previous night.  It was to be around 58 after the sun went down.  It was a little warm for long pants, but too cool tonight for anything but that.

We decided to go to the left side of the stage and set up today.  We found a spot on the tracks that was not too far off center and afforded a great view of the performers.  After getting set up, we went down to the town to see what was going on.  It was just after 11:00 in the morning and the symposium had started in the Malco Theater.  The first hour, Roger Stolle from Cat Head Music was leading a panel with some of the current Bluesmen out of Clarksdale.  Unfortunately, Red Paden would not be attending.  Red is the local philosopher in town.  He is not to be missed, if you ever get a chance to hang out.

Sean “Bad” Apple, Mark “Muleman” Massey, Hezekiah Early and Robert “Lil Poochie” Watson were the members on the panel.  Roger was having the panel describe how they each got into the blues and became musicians in the Delta.  Sean was the only member not born in the area.  Their stories were interesting and varied.  Roger had Lil Poochie describe his meeting Sir Paul McCartney.  Apparently, Paul was a fan and had someone go to Mississippi to get Lil Poochie and bring him to LA for a meeting and to record.  How great is that!

After the panel discussion, we wondered up the street and back down again.  Just as we went by the theater, Hezekiah and Lil Poochie were coming out.  I went over to tell them how much I loved hearing their stories and that was the great thing for me.  They appreciated that we even cared to hear them and thanked us.  No, thank you guys for being willing to share your time with us.  We promised to come by and hear them playing at one of the side stages this afternoon.

Back at the main stage, we settled in to listen to the Peterson Brothers on stage.  These brothers are 17 and 19.  We heard them at the Chicago Blues Fest about 5 years ago.  They were awesome then and have only grown in style.  For someone so young, they are quite the masters of sound and style.  They had a couple of percussionists on stage with them.  The four of them were putting on quite the show and we had a great time watching them.

After their set, we headed down to check out the food selections for lunch.  We decided on our picks and went by Bubba’s to purchase a new Peterson Brothers’ CD and get it signed.  While we waited in line, we got to watch the boys.  They are shy, but seem to like the attention.  Rich stepped up and got signatures from all of the guys.  He explained we had been watching them for a while now and hoped to continue to see them out and about.  One the way out the door, we stopped to talk to their folks.  They are really nice.

Now it was time for that food.  I got loaded frito pie and Rich got crawfish etouffee.  Back at our chairs with a couple of beers, we listened to Kathy Guillen and the Girls.  It never fails to impress me how this festival finds new talent to bring to this stage.  These girls had the licks and delivered the blues.  I was impressed.

Bob Margolin, Bob Stroger, and Kenny Smith were on stage next.  Bob Stroger was one of the best bassist in Blues back in the day.  Bob Margolin had played with Muddy Waters.  Kenny Smith grew up in the blues as his father, Willie Smith, was a bluesman and a pal of Muddy Waters.  They talked about blues and played songs from different eras in blues.  It was a fun show to listen and learn from.

Then a real treat came on stage.  The program said Kevin Naquin.  Who the heck was this?  Never heard this name before.  It takes about 15 to 20 minutes for the crew to set up the stage and run the sound checks.  In this time, we got to check out the people milling around the stage.  There was a drummer, bassist, guitarist, and keyboard player.  Then there was some other guy messing with different accordions.  This could be interesting.  Sure enough, it was.  Kevin Naquin and the Ossun Playboys was a Cajun band that can swing and party.  We had a great time.

After the set, Rich went down to buy a CD.  While he was there, he talked to Kevin about Cajun and Lafayette area, where the band was from.  Rich came back with a CD and some stories.  Kevin says to look them up if we are ever in the area again.  We will definitely do that.  I’d love to see them in their own environment and experience one of the Cajun clubs there.

While we were listening to the music, our neighbor came back to his chair.  This guy was from Memphis, TN and down here on his own to listen to the blues.  This was his 19 consecutive year in attendance.  He brought his camper down and stayed at the Helena campground.  They provided a shuttle service back and forth.  I had a feeling he was going to need that by the end of the night.

Our neighbor (never did get his name) recommended that we get tamales from Pasquale’s on the main street.  He said that Pasquale had a restaurant in Helena for a lot of years before retiring from that business.  Now he only did a food wagon at festivals in the area.  Turns out, Pasquale is like 85 years old, or something like that.  I did hear that this was the best place for tamales.

We headed down to hear Hezekiah and Lil Poochie play at the Lockwood Stage.  They were already on and playing when we arrived.  We found seats on the curb and in the shade.  You could tell they had been together for a long time.  They don’t really finish their sentences and yet they know what they are going to play.  Lil Poochie seemed to forget the words now and then, but he could still play guitar.  It was great to hear from some of the old guys with a lot of history.

On our back in to the mains stage, we stopped by and got a pack of 3 tamales.  Rich got some chicken wings as well.  The neighbor was not wrong.  These were some of the best tamales I’ve ever had.  Oh my gosh.  I did take a few minutes to talk to Pasquale since there was no one else in line.  He was a great talker and quite the salesman.  I told him his tamales come highly recommended.  He agreed and said he recommended them, too.

We ate our finds of the evening as we listened to Andy T and Nick Nixon, minus Nick.  Apparently, Nick had not been well and was out of commission for a while.  In his place, Andy T brought in Alabama Mike.  This guys was quite the crooner.  He had a way with song and we enjoyed the set.

Best Tamales so far!  I really enjoyed these.  Wow!  The neighbor said his daughter had gotten him a dozen for Christmas.  They came frozen.  He pops one into the microwave when he feels like having a real treat.  Hmmm.  There’s an idea for a Christmas gift.

Then on to the stage comes Toronzo Cannon.  We’ve heard Toronzo about 5 times now.  He is a Chicago bluesman with a great sound and I love his storytelling in his songs.  He had a new CD come out on Alligator Records, which is Rich’s favorite label.  Toronzo did not disappoint us.  He put on a great show.  The crowd loved him.

After the set, Rich went down to pick up the new CD and talk to Toronzo.  Like I said before, that’s the beauty of these things.  You get to actually talk to the performers and get them to sign the covers.  When Rich got his turn to talk to Toronzo, Mr. Cannon exclaimed that Rich’s hat was a Dobbs.  Apparently, Toronzo loves Dobbs hats.  They talked hats, blues, and a little bit of everything.  Rich even got his picture with Toronzo.

As Rich was waiting in line, the people around him were talking about Toronzo.  So Rich had to fill them on what they didn’t know and what they should know.  He was selling Toronzo to the novices.  That’s how it goes.  You talk to fans and wannabe fans all around you.  Everyone likes to share their stories.

By this time, the sun was down and it was getting chilly.  We had our jackets and I had my blanket.  Unfortunately, we had a group of 40 something women up the hill from us who had been drinking most of the day.  One of them had quite a cackle when she laughed, which was a lot.  They were trying to talk over the music and laughing.  If you want to talk, go to the VIP Tent.  I’m sure they would appreciate you.

We managed to get through Toronzo with them.  It was cigarettes and cigar that got me the most though.  Four people in front of me were smoking away at one point and I had to get up and get out of the cloud.  I don’t mean to be militant about the cigarettes, but my allergies just get worse and worse with age.  I’m surprised I haven’t developed asthma with it.  Lucky so far, I guess.  Rich was getting bothered by the cigar smoker a couple of seats down from him.  Now, he does have asthma and I was worried we were going to have to leave.  Sorry, but just because it is outside doesn’t make it alright to light up and smoke with so many people around you.

Charlie Musselwhite was the last headlining act.  He is quite the harmonica player.  He started out in 1966 and has only been getting better.  He told stories between the songs and played some great blues for us.  It was awesome.  I’ve heard Charlie for a while and he was one of the reasons for coming out this year.  For his encore, he played Rich’s favorite song.  That was a great way to top off the evening.

The cold kept us from lingering too long after the show.  We got back to the car and unloaded the wagon.  Time to head over the bridge and back to our warm hotel room.  First things first though.  A nice hot shower to wash away the smoke and warm up.  That just made me sleepy.  I still had a couple of blogs to write.  After the second entry, it was time to read a bit and then drift off to sleep with all that wonderful blues music playing through my dreams.

Our spot for Day 2
Our spot for Day 2
Rich kicking back for the day
Rich kicking back for the day
Roger Stolle and his panel
Roger Stolle and his panel
Peterson Brothers  starting us out
Peterson Brothers starting us out
Peterson Brothers having fun on stage
Peterson Brothers having fun on stage
Kathy Guillen and the Girls
Kathy Guillen and the Girls
Mark the Muleman Massey on the side stage
Mark the Muleman Massey on the side stage
Crowd enjoying Lil Poochie and Hezekiah
Crowd enjoying Lil Poochie and Hezekiah
Lil Poochie and Hezekiah on stage
Lil Poochie and Hezekiah on stage
BBQ Cook-off competition playing some games
BBQ Cook-off competition playing some games
Love the name on this competitor
Love the name on this competitor
Kevin Naquin and the Ossun Playboys from Lafayette, LA
Kevin Naquin and the Ossun Playboys from Lafayette, LA
Alabama Mike and Andy T
Alabama Mike and Andy T
Toronzo Cannon and his band
Toronzo Cannon and his band
Charlie Musselwhite
Charlie Musselwhite

King Biscuit Festival Day 1

Day 1 of King Biscuit

We skipped the first day of the King Biscuit Festival for our day in Vicksburg.  Today, we would join the masses to listen to blues music, eat great food, and imbibe a bit.  The weather promised to be a bit warm today with a cooler evening.  At least it wasn’t raining like the last time.  The high would be 88 and sunny.

We got up and shuffled about our morning before we packed up and headed over to the Rest Haven for breakfast.  Now, we are in the south and things move at a different pace here.  We got inside and someone let us know to just sit down.  It was fairly full, but mostly regulars by the look of them.  They weren’t in any hurry, so we thought we shouldn’t be either.

It took a bit to get menus and the waitress\cashier\owner came by to take our order.  We ordered omelets, side of gravy, grits, and toast with coffee.  Somewhere along the way, my side of gravy got lost.  It took about 15 to 20 minutes to get it to the table.  It was worth the wait though.  The sausage in the omelet and gravy were wonderful.  This was a great start to the day ahead.

Before we left town, I had to stop by the grocery store for supplies and try to find a hairbrush.  I left mine at home and had nothing to curl these bangs with.  Uncurly bangs are a recipe for disaster.  I couldn’t get them out of eyes!  I picked up picnic supplies for the stage area as well as some snacking stuff.  When we checked out, I saw the manager from the restaurant where we just left go across the front of the store.  He nodded hello.  Wow, I felt like I belonged in town.  Forgot how a small town could be.

After getting gas at the busiest station I’ve ever been in, we let the navi (GPS) take us out of town.  I had no idea where this was going.  It seemed to be out in the middle of nowhere.  Rich assured me it was headed to Helena.  We went past a Blues marker and Rich mentioned he saw it.  Then I saw the Stovall Farms sign.  No way?  This is the Stovall Plantation site?  Where Muddy Waters grew up and worked?

I turned the car around to go back to the sign.  Sure enough, it was a Blues marker for the location of the house where Muddy Waters grew up and lived.  This is the house where his grandparents brought him after his mother died when he was 2.  So cool to find this thing.  We took pictures and then got back on the road.

We popped out onto Hwy 49 going west across the Mississippi River into Helena, Arkansas.  Since we had been here once before, I knew right where I wanted to park.  The local high school has parking for $5.  The donation goes to help their athletic department.  Seems like a really good cause.  The location is close to the festival and easy to get out.  The young ladies were in place and ready to take money.

We walked down to Will Call to pick up our wristbands for admission.  The festival itself is free.  However, seating in the Main Stage area costs you.  I figured it was worth the first time to see the faces of the performers.  And it was.  So I paid again to sit down and face the stage.   We picked up our commemorative t-shirts at the same time.

Back at the car, we loaded up the wagon with chairs and other necessary items to enjoy the day.  After entering the stage area, we found that the right side of the stage was pretty open.  It meant hopping the wagon over the railroad tracks, but that was pretty easy.  We set up chairs and settled in.  Then it was time for a foray into food.

Down on the street, we walked through the vendors to determine what might be good.  We settled on curry goat from the International Food tent.  They were cooking up all kinds of good things on large griddles.  I hadn’t had curry goat in a few years.  Time to try it once again.  Rich got tamales from one of the local vendors. With our food, we headed back to get beers and settled down to music.  Rich got an Oktoberfest and I got something called Love Honey, which was a bock.  The beer helped since the curry was a little more than on the spicy side.  Still great though.

The first act was Blind Mississippi Morris.  He must have been blind to where that bright neon green suit!  Put your eyes out!  He was a great harmonica player though.  Next, The Mike Wheeler Band came on.  These guys are from the Chicago area.  Really enjoyed listening to them play.  This would be our first CD buy of the festival.

Rich went down to Bubba’s to stand on line for a CD and get Mike to sign it.  That’s one of things I love about these festivals.  You buy a CD and get to talk to the people you just saw.  Rich had to wait for a while since a lady with Big City Rhythm and Blues was talking to Mike.  He came back with a great story about standing there with Mike while she talked.  Nothing like getting the gossip from the source.  We’ll be checking out the Mike Wheeler Band at home, too.

Kenny Neel and his entire family seemed like they were on stage as the next act.  Mr. Teddy, the owner for a juke joint in Louisiana where Kenny’s family has played for something like 6 generations, introduced Kenny.  The brothers play in the band.  Kenny brought a nephew on to play for the crowd.  He said he was working to bring up the next generation of Neels to carry on the tradition.

Mike Zito came out next.  I’ve tried to see him play before with no luck.  Strange, he sounds little like John Mellencamp.  I did enjoy the music though.  Anson Funderburk and the Rockets came out next.  This band is a local favorite and plays here every year.  This year, they had a new lead singer named Ray.  I didn’t catch his last name, but he was awesome.  For those who don’t know the name, Anson Funderburk was a member of the Fabulous Thunderbirds back in the day with Kim Wilson.

The sun was going down at the point.  It had been a very hot and sweaty day for us.  The temp was somewhere around 90 with the sun beating down.  We had our umbrellas on the chairs to shade us, but that didn’t cut the heat.  After the sun went behind the trees, we realized we didn’t bring our jackets.  It was chilly out on the levee with no coat.  I had a blanket I brought, but Rich didn’t get a cover up.  Luckily, the temp was only in the mid 70s by the time the show was over.  Still warm enough not to freeze, but a bit chilly with the wind.  Coats tomorrow for sure.

The next group was from New Orleans.  The Rebirth Brass Band was a group of young men who won a Grammy this year for their work.  They were absolutely amazing.  Two trumpets, two trombones, one sax, and 2 percussionists.  They made the music into an art form.  Rich didn’t care for the brass (and a little woodwind and percussion) too much, but he admitted it was very good.

That brought us to the headliner for the evening.  John Mayhall is 82 years old.  He is known as the Grandfather of British Blues.  He and his band, the Bluesbreakers, have started or promoted the careers of some the premier musicians in Britain.  Here are a few:  Eric Clapton, Mick Fleetwood, John McVie, Jack Bruce, Mike Taylor, Peter Green, Walter Trout, and Coco Montoya.

From a history perspective, this is one of those guys you have to see.  His show turned out to be really great.  He did it all.  He played guitar like a master, handled the organ and synethizer with ease, and managed a pretty good harmonica.  The drummer and bassist with him were from Chicago.  They were great at rounding out the sound for him.

At the end, they were fighting over who got to introduce John to the crowd as the final bow.  John seemed OK with letting them fight for the mic.  The drummer won the contest and handled the job with precise drummer skill.  By the way, John and I share a birthday about 50 years apart!

Now for the bad news.  We were into the Anson Funderburk part of the show when a group of 5 girls and three boys sat on the grass behind us.  Immediately, they started talking loud to hear each other over the music.  These kids were somewhere in their 20s.  They didn’t pay any attention to the music around them.  One by one, the people around them moved.  They didn’t notice that they bothered anyone.  Rich refused to move, but it gave me excuses to turn around and stare at them from time to time.  At one point, I thought Rich was going to yell at them.  They were babies who had no idea how rude they were.

Around gossip, Facebook, and other inane things, it turns out the girls drove down on a lark.  They had no place to stay and little or nothing with them.  They were sitting on the ground and couldn’t see anything.  The boys at least had a hotel room.  From the conversation I couldn’t help but overhear, the girls were sleeping in the car down by the marina that night.  Wow, that’s more than I would have done at that age.

When John Mayhall came on stage, this group of kids seemed to know the name.  However, they knew the first two lines of one song.  That’s about the extent of their knowledge.  I was totally amazed that they would spend that kind of money to sit on the grass and not listen any of the music.  What a waste of time and money.  I wondered how they afforded that for all of them.

When the music was over, we stood up to pack.  The area behind was littered with dozens of beer cans and containers.  The kids got up and didn’t attempt to pick up after themselves.  I wanted to scream at them for being so ignorant about their surroundings or what someone else was going to have to do to clean up their mess.  Who lets their children do this sort of thing!

Let it go!  It took a while to breathe deep and let the stress drain from me after dealing with that mess.  I wanted to so punch a parent for not doing their job.

We got back to the car through the crowd.  After unloading the wagon and packing things away, it was time to hit the road.  We got in line and made our way to the bridge over the Mississippi.  Now this bridge is very steep.  I had a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as we drove over it in the daylight.  It wasn’t any better at 10:15 PM.

Traffic was slow going down 49.  At one point, we were all passing a VW mini bus that couldn’t do over 50 at best.  Once we got to 61, it was 70 miles an hour all the way into Clarksdale.  Some of the cars were going a bit faster than that.  I couldn’t tell you how fast because they zoomed by and left only tail lights.  We arrived at the hotel and gathered our stuff to take up.

We got into the lobby as other festival attendees were returning.  Everyone was talking about the experience and asking questions.  Once up stairs, it was hot showers and decompressing before turning in for the night.  There’s always tomorrow.

Stovall Plantation site
Stovall Plantation site
Rich with the Muddy Waters' boyhood home site
Rich with the Muddy Waters’ boyhood home site
Our set up for the day
Our set up for the day
Hanging in the shade from the heat
Hanging in the shade from the heat
All settled in to watch the music
All settled in to watch the music
First act on stage
First act on stage
Kenny Neel on stage
Kenny Neel on stage
Mr.  Teddy at the end of Kenny Neel's set
Mr. Teddy at the end of Kenny Neel’s set
Mike Wheeler trying to walk through the crowd
Mike Wheeler trying to walk through the crowd
Mike Zito and band on stage
Mike Zito and band on stage
Anson Funderburk and the Rockets
Anson Funderburk and the Rockets
Rebirth Brass Band
Rebirth Brass Band

 

 

 

Captive Spirits Bourbon Barreled Big Gin

CaptiveSpiritBigGin (1)S

I bought this gin a couple of years ago when I first heard of bourbon barreled gins.  I like gin and love bourbon, so this was something I had to try. Captive Spirits produces the gin and then put it into a used bourbon barrel to finish.  I believe they can’t say that it is aged in bourbon barrels because gin is not an aged spirit.  That is why the label says barrel finished, barrel rested, or just mentions the word barrel.

The barrel aging process gives this gin another dimension to complement that juniper berry and spice taste.  The gin I tasted is bottle number 418 from barrel number 16-19.  The bottle I bought almost a year ago was also from barrel 16-19.  This gin doesn’t appear to be a fast seller, which is too bad. I have to say that I have enjoyed this gin and plan to keep a bottle on the back bar.

Bourbon Barrel Gin

CaptiveSpiritBigGin (2)S

This gin uses a plain, shouldered bottle with a synthetic cork stopper. The label is printed in black and gold, which complements the light yellow, straw color of the gin. This color is picked up from the barrel during aging. Because the color is so light, the gin probably spent less than a year finishing in the bourbon barrel.

The smell is mostly the juniper berry with some sweet caramel notes and a bourbon smell in the background. The first sip is smooth in the front and middle of the mouth, but has a little burn at the back of the mouth. A spicy, juniper taste dominates at first in the front of the mouth.  As the liquid passes to the mid mouth, the nice, rich caramel taste takes over. The mouth is filled with a smooth, silky vanilla caramel and lingering bourbon with chard oak.  All of this takes place as the liquid moves through the mouth and to the throat.  It is a wonderful flavor and sensation to be enjoyed.

CaptiveSpiritBigGin (4)S

Since this spirit has elements of gin and bourbon, I like to use the elements from a Manhattan and a Martini.  So this one I call it a Manhatini.

Manhatini

  • 2 oz Bourbon Barreled Big Gin
  • 1/2 Vermouth
  • 1 Marciano Cherry

Shake the gin and vermouth with ice until chilled.  Pour into a martini glass and garnish with one or two cherries. This is a gin martini I enjoy every time.

CaptiveSpiritBigGin (6)S

Zubrowka Bison Grass Wodka

Zubrowka (5)S

Zubrowka is a Bison Grass infused vodka from Poland and its national spirit. Until recently this vodka was not available in the USA.  Apparently Bison Grass is classified as a carcinogenic and was banned.  I am not sure that what is sold today as Bison Grass Vodka in the USA even has Bison Grass in it?

When Joy and I visited Poland last summer, this was the first spirit I tried there.  We went to dinner in the Jewish Sector of Krakow and it was on the menu.  I ordered it neat, but the friends we were with had the waitress bring a side of apple juice.  In Poland, this is served with apple juice. I’m using the bottle Marcin brought to me for Christmas so I am reviewing the real Zubrowka. On this visit, Marcin brought me a bottle covered in grass.  This is popular as a gift during the holidays.

http://www.facebook.com/zuvodka

Zubrowka (4)S

The vodka is a clear, pale yellowish green color like you would expect a grass infused spirit to look.  There is enough body that it does slide down the tasting glass slowly.

The bottle has a very nice Bison on the label.  There is even a blade of bison grass inside, which is a little darker, yellowish green.  The bottle is also embossed with blades of grass. The label is all in Polish, so I am having a hard time reading it.

The alcohol level for this spirit is 37.5 ABV, which is 75 proof for us in the States.

Zubrowka (1)S

The taste has a cinnamon-like quality with vanilla and green grass tones with a sweetness.  It’s not so grassy that you think your a cow though. It is smooth throughout the drink and the bison grass really comes out in the aftertaste in a pleasant way. In Poland, I did drink most of it with apple juice and it went well with that.  But this spirit is very drinkable neat. Ice does not inhibit the taste or smells at all.  So you will not hurt the taste by icing it down. It is still slightly sweet with the bison grass spice coming through.

Zubrowka (2)S

Since I did not have apple juice as a mixer, I used ginger ale with the Zubrowka.  I guess I made a Bison Grass High Ball.  A High Ball is any spirit mixed with a carbonated mixer.

Zubrowka (3)S

Bison Grass High Ball

  • 1 1/2 oz Zubrowka
  • 6 oz Vernor’s Ginger Ale
  • Ice

Mix vodka and ginger ale and add ice.

It was a nice surprise to taste how well these mixed together. I thought the ginger ale would overpower the drink.  The bison grass spice complemented the ginger ale.

So I’ll sit here and enjoy the rest of Bison Grass High Ball in the 12 Bar Blues Bar.

Cajun Vacation: Home Sweet Home March 11

The rain continued to come day on Friday morning.  The plan was to pack up and drive all day until we reached home.  Vacation was just about over for us.  This was our last day on the road.

After showers and packing up, we went down to load up the car one last time.  Pulling out of the garage, we got out onto the streets of Memphis.  I headed south before I realized that I really wanted to go north to get across the bridge to West Memphis.  The navi saved us and got us out to the expressway without going too much out of the way.  Thanks, Navi.

Traffic was a little heavy.  The rain was light so it wasn’t causing things to slow down much.  The road curved to the west and led us over the river.  A white Ford Escape in the left lane was driving well under the speed limit.  The driver was talking on the phone.  I bet he had no idea he was causing a traffic jam as everyone was trying to get around him.

We stopped in the West Memphis service plaza to grab breakfast.  My thinking was that we ate well here and make it down the road a good ways before we need to stop for a meal.  The restaurant we picked had a breakfast buffet with just about everything you could want.  Sylvia, our waitress, got Rich a couple of eggs over easy.  She also brought a full coffee pot to the table.  We could fill our cups as we liked.  After eating, I filled the travel mug from the pot.  This was convenient.

Rick and I went through the shop to look around while waiting for Rich to make a stop.  Halfway through my round, I realized I had forgotten the travel mug on the table.  I hurried back to the restaurant just as Sylvia came out looking for me.  I thanked her profusely since Rich would have been unhappy not to have coffee for the trip back.

Back in the car, we headed into Arkansas with the rest of the northbound traffic.  It was pretty much uneventful.  The flood waters stopped a few miles north of Memphis.  I pulled into the Missouri Welcome Center after driving for a couple of hours.  It was time for Rich to take over.  I took a nap.  With my sinus unhappy from the wind and dust in New Orleans, I needed to rest.

About 2:00 PM, Rich decided the car needed gas and he was empty as well.  I’m not even sure where we were.  We found a gas station and a Hardee’s next door.  As we waited for our food, a group of guys were finishing up and I heard one of them say, “I haven’t seen a Hardee’s around in a while.”  The manager asked where he was from.  The guys answered, “Illinois.”  I swear that he pronounced all of the letters in the name.  Do people from the state actually say it that way?  I know Southerners tend to say it that way.  I thought it was very funny.

We got back on the road and headed toward home again.  Somewhere around Champaign, we pulled into a rest area to take a break.  In the rest room, a group of 10 to 12 year old girls huddled in front of the door and hand dryers.  What do you call a group of girls like that?  I was thinking a gaggle.  I’m sure there is a good name that fits.  When I looked it up, the closest was a bevy of ladies.  Naw, that doesn’t work.

Rick took the wheel and got us a little further up the road.  I got to sit in the back seat and read.  I always love when I can read from here.  I snuggled in and got comfy.  Before I knew it, it was a couple of hours later and Rick was pulling into the last rest area before hitting the Chicago area.  As he was pulling, three buses were pulling into the truck lanes.  One bus was pulling into the car parking.  We parked ourselves and made a break for the bathrooms to beat the worst of the crowd.  I made to be third in line, even though I can’t run.

Getting back out of the bathroom proved to be more of a challenge than getting in.  I had to wind my way through girls standing in the hallway to get to the sink.  At the door, I had to almost shout excuse me at the top of lungs to get out again.  The girls in line wouldn’t part ways to get through.  Did they really think I was trying to cut line to go again?  There were kids standing everywhere in the rest area lobby.  Why were they all standing around in here?  It’s nice outside.  Go out there and walk around!

In the car, it was my turn to drive us to the house.  Traffic was tight and rush hour was going to make it tighter.  A fender bender on the eastbound side of I-80 was causing traffic to be slow on the westbound.  I’m always amazed that rubbernecking causes so much trouble.  There was no blood.  Once past the accident, the traffic picked up and moved down the road.

It was getting pretty dark by the time we got into the Schaumburg area.  Rich was planning to stop for chicken in Palatine.  I really had a taste for hot and sour soup.  Since I was getting this anyway, it was decided to come on in to home and get food from there.  We arrived home about 7:00.  Yes, we had made it.  The guys picked out food while I started to unpack the car.  The order was called in and everything was brought into the living room.  There was time to get everything into its own place later.

The guys went after the food while I settled into my chair and took a lot of deep breaths.  Home always feels so good.  One more Zurek Family Vacation in the books and ready to be written about in a blog.

Cajun Vacation: Walking in Memphis

Today, we are on the move again.  We woke up to dry skies, but the clouds were very low.  It’s probably good we are leaving NOLA today.  We start our first leg back to the real world and home.  After packing up, Rich went down to the lobby for coffee so that he would be prepared for the drive.  We would stop and grab something to eat on the way out of NOLA.

I called down to get our car brought around by the valet and to have someone bring up a cart to help us get all of this stuff downstairs.  I thought it would be easier to tip someone.  I am on vacation, you know.  The young man knocked on the door and even had his own doorstop.  That’s good planning.  We got everything to the door and he loaded it up for us.

Rich had not returned, so Rick and I headed to the lobby to try and catch him.  No luck though, because we missed him somewhere.  Rick sent a text to join us in the lobby.  A couple of minutes later, Rich appeared with phone and coffee in hands.  He said he got to the room and saw the guy taking the cart to the service elevator.  He figured we were already downstairs.

I thanked the ladies at the front desk for helping us around the French Quarter during our stay.  They had the best information and always willing to help me figure out how to do something.  The Courtyard was the best place.  We had a wonderful stay with them.

Down in the garage, our car was ready and waiting.  The valet was giving me instructions for getting out of town and back on the road toward Memphis.  Our luggage showed up and I packed the car with my usual expertise.  Time to wave good-bye and creep out into rush hour traffic in New Orleans.

We got lucky and traffic was clear.  We headed west on Dauphine St and followed the Navi to I-55 going west.  We had gotten on the other side of Lake Ponchetrain when the first rain drops started hitting the car.  It was only sprinkles at this point.  So we made it out of town before it got wet.  Now that was great planning.

We stopped up the road for gas and something to eat.  That would take us into Clarksdale.  The rain got a little heavier as we were getting around the Tennessee border.  Then it really broke loose as we got off the interstate and onto the minor highway.  There were times when it was a little hard to see.  In some places, we hydroplaned somewhat where water just couldn’t run off.

As we moved north, the evidence of flooding was getting more and more.  In several locations, the fields looked like good sized lakes just standing with water.  A couple of places had water running from one field across the road to another field.  It was a single lane of traffic at these points.  Luckily, it wasn’t trying to sweep any vehicles with it.

We got into Clarksdale at the crossroads.  The viaduct on 61 was closed because of high water.  We snaked our way through the neighborhoods.  At one point, the train was blocking the tracks because it was stopped for water.  We got around it all and back over to 61.  Across the Sunflower River, we found that Hick’s BBQ was still open.

We had just an hour before they closed for the day.  We ordered half a dozen tamales, rib tips, BBQ pork sandwiches with fried okra and baked beans.  Rich and I had been trying for a couple of years to catch Hick’s open so we could eat the best tamales in the world.  The guy behind the counter laughed when I said that.  However, it is true.  These were some of the best hot tamales that I’ve had.  We’ll have to stop by and try them again.

We got back to the crossroads and headed north for Memphis.  I tried to stop for gas outside of Clarksdale, but apparently the pumps and computer system was down.  With the storms and rain, it appears that things have been down off and on all day.  I opted to get gas further up in the delta.

We’d be spending the night in Memphis and hopefully get to see some blues at Run Boogie Blues Hall.  Rick can check out the act on stage next door at Rum Boogie, if he wanted.  I knew Rick also wanted to go by the Gibson Factory.  He wasn’t interested in the tour so much as the guitars on display and the fact that you could play them.  I think we had a full day for our one night there.

We got within 10 miles of Memphis when a sign said the road was closed.  Apparently, the high water here had the road closed to traffic.  We got on an east-west highway to get around the block.  This took us out of our way by some miles, but it was better than nothing.  This road took us back over to I-55 so we could head up to Memphis.  The road was drier here, but there were still some places with standing water.

The exit off to the interstate ran down into some of the industrial areas.  At one point, we were detoured again because of high water.  This wound us around through some of the older neighborhoods and right by Gus’ World Famous Chicken.  We turned on Union and right down to the hotel.  We were across from The Peabody.  I tell myself I’m going to stay over there someday, but today was not that day.

We got checked and ready to walk to Beale St.  Somehow, Rick talked his Dad into going over to Lansky’s first.  When I caught up to them, they were standing by waiting for the famous Peabody ducks to go up to their penthouse for the night.  I pulled them along to the Lansky store to shop instead.

Once inside the shop, the colors and textures are wonderful.  I find it hard not to run around and touch everything.  Rich started looking through shirts and hats.  Nothing was standing out for him.  Rick saw shirts he liked, but he figured he would never really wear.  One of the salesmen asked about our day.  I explained we had stopped by to look.  Rich then found the perfect shirt.  It was a black camp shirt with guitar picks and a fret board on the front.  On the back was a full guitar and the words, “Home of Rock and Roll” in bright colors.  It was beautiful and it was in Rich’s size.  Out came the credit card and Rich purchased it.

I ran the shirt back over to the hotel while the guys walked down to the Gibson Factory.  By the time I came back down to the street, it was starting to rain.  I had left my rain jacket upstairs guessing that the rain was over for the night.  If you have to decide something, I figured I’d go for warm.  Darn, I got that wrong.

I didn’t see the guys when I got to Gibson.  Inside the door, I looked around.  A young lady who worked there asked if she could help.  I explained I let my kids come down where and I couldn’t find them.  Rick walked from behind one of the racks about then.  I told her I found one of them.  She laughed.  Rick sat down and started to play a Les Paul that he had admired.  Price tags here are to be admired, but not paid either.  Rich sat down on a couch and waited as Rick and I walked around and around the guitars.  It is an impressive place with lots of guitars just hanging around.  After buying a new guitar strap that says Gibson, Rick was ready for me to drag him out of the store.

We walked back down to Beale Street, but no one was playing any live music yet.  That would be around 8:00.  We checked on the schedule for a couple of places and getting the names of groups who would be playing.  We walked down toward the Handy Park to check out some places.  Across the street, Dyer’s was open.  Rick decided he was hungry again.  We went in for burgers and beers.

Back out on the street, we wondered up Beale Street toward B.B. King’s place and then around the block back to the hotel for a rest.  The rain had pretty much quit and it was getting a little bit chilly.  We’d rest our feet and then head back down to Beale for the 8:00 shows.

Live music started up at 8:00 PM on Beale Street.  We left the hotel just after the guitars started.  The rain was coming down slow and steady.  The five minute walk up to Beale Street didn’t soak us through.  We got to the door for the Blues Hall Juke Joint with the music coming through the door.  The doorman checked our IDs and stamped our hands.  Luckily, the bar is free to enter.  We stepped inside and the music surrounded us.

We took over one of the high-topped tables and shucked the raincoats.  Rich stepped up to the bar and got us three bourbon high balls.  Well, they were actually Canadian whiskey high balls since that’s all they had.  The Blues Masters were on stage.  I wouldn’t say they were exactly blues.  They were playing mostly R&B and Soul.  They weren’t bad though.  We heard three or four songs.

The crowd was ebbing and flowing around us.  People would move between the Juke Joint and Rum Boogie Café through the adjoining door.  A large group of guys and girls came in at one point and tried to find seating together.  They ended up at a table behind us and a table right up front.  They didn’t stay too long before they picked up their Big Ass Beers and moved back out to the street.  I assume they were looking for a specific type of music and hadn’t found it yet.

The band brought up their singer after the first few songs.  Her name was Queen Anne.  To my ears, it sounds strange to name your child with a title as their name.  She had a nice voice.  Unfortunately, the lead guitarist was also the sound guy.  To hear Queen Anne over the band, he cranked her mic up over the other sounds.  This meant the sound now made your ears bleed.

We hung out for a couple of songs and finished our drinks.  It was time to go while we could still hear.  I would prefer to hear more music.  I asked the guys to walk through Rum Boogie Café in hopes that the band there was still on stage.  I wasn’t having any luck though.  No one was on stage and the lights were dark.

On the street, we could hear music blaring from several locations all at once.  The rain was coming down harder.  Maybe it was time to call it quits for the night.  We were planning to be on the road early tomorrow.  It would be a long day as we planned to drive on home for the 8 and more hours.

The street was dark with the rain coming down.  In a couple of spots, we had to skirt puddles to keep our feet dry.  We debated crossing the street at Peabody Place against the light because there was no traffic coming down the one-way street.  At the last minute, the pedestrian light changed in our favor.

We joked about melting before we could get back to the hotel.  Good thing none of us were that sweet.  As we passed the Peabody Hotel, Rick told me we’d be home now if I had just made reservations there.  I told him I would have, if he were paying.  We crossed the street and entered our warm and dry hotel.

The night in Memphis didn’t work out as well as I had planned, but we did manage to do a couple of things we wanted.  Rick got to play guitars at Gibson.  Rich shopped at Lansky’s.  We got to see the Peabody ducks walk to the elevator.  The live music was short, but enough to remember.

Beale Street in the rain
Beale Street in the rain
Gibson Factory
Gibson Factory
Rick with one of his favorite guitars
Rick with one of his favorite guitars
Love is a new guitar
Love is a new guitar
Little dobro with that song
Little dobro with that song
Peabody Hotel on a dark and rainy night
Peabody Hotel on a dark and rainy night

 

Cajun Vacation: Day 5 Happy Birthday, Rick!

Happy Birthday, Rick.  Today is my son’s 22nd birthday.  On this day 22 years ago, he woke me up from a sound sleep to take care of some important business.  He arrived about 4 weeks early and has been dragging his heels about things ever since.

We weren’t in any hurry today either.  I didn’t have that much planned.  I did want to do a trip to Cemetery #1, but it turned out to be $25 a person.  It wasn’t that important to me.  We saw the cemetery on the way in.  So the first plan was to find breakfast.  Checking the lobby meant something expensive and maybe not that good.  We headed to the street to find a restaurant.

Can you believe that not that many places serve breakfast in the French Quarter?  I made the executive decision to go to a little place that sounded interesting.  Unfortunately, it had been replaced with a Vietnamese restaurant that wasn’t open.  We backtracked a bit to Café Beignet and got coffee for Rich.  He’s not really human until that first cup goes in.  We found a table on the patio and got gospel songs from a homeless man.  He was very good and sang “Amazing Grace,” which is one of my favorites.

Rich had a sparrow take an untimely accident on him.  It wasn’t too bad and he could clean himself up.  From here, I got money and we headed down to the river.  I wanted to check out Jackson Brewery for lunch before going over to the French Market.  I talked to the bartender for a bit and we decided to come back there.

Down the shore a bit, we entered into the French Market.  The first half was a market for foods and food stands.  The smells were wonderful.  We stopped to try some pralines.  Rich got rum, Rick got peanut butter, and I got original.  They were delicious.  We should have had breakfast here!

Further down, the flea market took over.  Most of this was handicraft items being sold by individuals.  I looked at the jewelry, but it was really good quality.  I decided I could make any of that.  There were leather goods and wood carvings.  A few people had artwork or photographs that were interesting.

I circled back around to find the guys had gotten water and Rich a second cup of coffee.  Since the coffee was still hot, we moved to the park to watch the people and talk.  People watching can be quite fulfilling here in the Big Easy.  There are so many different things going on at the same time.

We headed down to Jackson Brewery for lunch.  Inside, we had choices to make.  I would stay downstairs at the main bar, but Rich decided to sit upstairs and have a view of the Mississippi River.  Rick decided not to drink quite yet.  Rich had a pomegranate beer while I had the Canebrake IPA.  I ordered the shrimp and grits.  Rich got the alligator jambalaya and Rick got the Chignon du latté (milk pork) po’boy.  The food was so wonderful.  We ate and watched the world go by outside and basketball for the ACC play inside.

After lunch, I was trying to find a t-shirt for New Orleans, but not having any luck.  The guys found theirs earlier this morning.  We headed up St. Peter St to Bourbon St.  First stop here was to the Tropical Island to try a Hand Grenade.  Louie from work said that we had to do it.  OK, we were game.  A couple at the bar acted like they had already had several.  They were excited to have someone come in and order.  The taste is fruity, but with a bitter after flavor that was almost like an artificial sweetener.  It wasn’t that great.  However, it was pretty potent.  Rick managed to lob the grenades from our drinks into the overhead basket.

While sitting at the bar, a couple of people came in and ordered shark attacks.  The bartenders would sound the siren and ring the bells.  A drink was set on the bar and a plastic shark was put into turning the drink completely red.  It was a nice gimmick, but not one that I would try to drink for.  As it was, I couldn’t finish the drink I had.  We slipped out and I deposited my cup in the trash.  The guys kept their souvenir glasses and headed back to the hotel.  We tried it, Louie.

I was still on the hunt for a t-shirt.  I had seen a large shop on Bourbon St that I wanted to check out.  The guys left me to shop and headed to the hotel.  I walked around the shop, but nothing looked like what I wanted.  If anything came close, it was not in my size.  I might have to go home without a shirt to commemorate my visit.

At the hotel, I got on the elevator with a family of 5 from Texas.  I know they were from Texas because the Mom, Dad, and the eldest son said it about 5 times between the two floors.  I made my way through the sprawling hallways back to the room.  It’s funny.  The hotel seems to be built between three different buildings, which requires you to make random turns to get way to our room.  It’s nice because it is us and one other room back here.  Now that I know the way, it’s not too hard anymore.  Learning the intricate turns was a little difficult at first.

Rich is napping.  Rick is messing around some online game stuff.  I’m writing up today’s blog.  All of this is while we rest before taking off again.  We are headed to Lafayette Square for Wednesdays on the Square.  Tab Benoit and the N’Wahing Johnnies are playing.  There are supposed to be food booths to buy all different kinds of foods.  I’m hoping there are different kind of drinks as well.  We thought we’d listen to some New Orleans blues and enjoy some time in the park.  I’ll let you know how that went when we return.

So sad.  We got our chairs and walked down to the park.  There was no concert about to start.  There were no food trucks parked waiting for people to order up food and drink.  We talked to a couple of people sitting around the fountain there.  Apparently, they came in and tried to set up.  The wind was pretty strong so they packed it up again and sent everyone home.  No concert tonight.  Darn.  So we packed our chairs back to the hotel.

After resting our feet for a bit, we went out to look for food and music.  We already figured out that the best places to be were not on Bourbon St.  Heading down Dauphine St., the first place was a martini bar that didn’t really have much food.  So we had one drink and moved on.  Rick did try a Stinger and really liked it.  The band was OK.  I didn’t care for the singer’s style, but the sound was OK.  We left and headed down Iberville to a small bar the guys thought was pretty cool last night.  The music didn’t start until 8:00.

In the meantime, we needed food before we could really carry on.  Between them, the guys decided to try the Vietnamese restaurant from this morning’s adventure.  It sounded good to me.  Rich got Pho while Rick and I got different rice dishes.  It was all pretty darn good.  The place was really small and was filling up around us.  We got enough food to be able to enjoy the evening and it was tasty.

We headed down to Decatur St. to see what was happening at Big Mama’s Blues Lounge.  It was comedy night and not what we were looking for.  We moved on to the jazz bar down the street.  Unfortunately, the first act had finished up and the next group didn’t even show up.  That’s OK because there was some pretty good blues music playing, the night was warm, and the bar was all opened up.  It was a great night to be out and about in New Orleans.

Around 8:00, we picked up and moved on to Iberville and the 21st Amendment Bar.  This place was tiny.  There were three or four tables and the bar itself.  The menu was mostly whiskey drinks, but there were some interesting mixes.  I saw the Day of Death Chocolate Stout and that was my drink.  Rich got the Bull in a China Shop and Rick did the peach shandy, which was surprisingly good.  Shine Diehl was playing with a group of string musicians.  It was kind of folk, Jazz, and ragtime with maybe a hint of old Jewish sound.  It was different.  Shine had this kind of donkey braying sort of laugh that he did after every song.  All in all, it was pretty good though.

We finished up our drinks and the band took a break.  Time for us to make a break for it also.  We were all tired from walking around town.  Believe it or not, we walked somewhere in the neighborhood of 18,000 steps for the day.  So for all the eating and drinking, we also walked it off.  Not a bad vacation.

Tomorrow is supposed to rain here and it has been raining cats and dogs in Memphis.  Not sure what we will find when we head normal tomorrow.  Hopefully, we can get into Memphis and back out again on Friday.  I’d really like to hear more music and get to see a bit of the Beale Street areas.  Wish us luck.

Rick the birthday boy
Rick the birthday boy
Rich with his morning coffee
Rich with his morning coffee
Going into the French Market
Going into the French Market
Rich contemplating getting something from a food vendor
Rich contemplating getting something from a food vendor
Jackson Brewery up on the levee
Jackson Brewery up on the levee
Eating lunch with a view of the Mississippi River
Eating lunch with a view of the Mississippi River
Alligator jambalaya with frog legs
Alligator jambalaya with frog legs

Chignon au Lait po'boy

Shrimp and grits at Jackson Brewery
Shrimp and grits at Jackson Brewery
Windy Day on the Mississippi River
Windy Day on the Mississippi River
Walking down St. Peter Street toward Bourbon St.
Walking down St. Peter Street toward Bourbon St.
Antoine's is oldest restaurant in NOLA
Antoine’s is oldest restaurant in NOLA
Musicians playing in the street
Musicians playing in the street
Museum of Death by our hotel
Museum of Death by our hotel
Jazz band pouring out of hotel with group doing their own parade
Jazz band pouring out of hotel with group doing their own parade
Mascot leading the parade
Mascot leading the parade

Cajun Vacation: Day 3 Avery Island and Gator Cove

Today, we had a bit of a slow start.  After breakfast at the hotel, we headed south to Avery Island.  For Rick, we were doing a tour of the Tabasco plant.  He so loves this stuff.  I do believe he puts it on just about everything he eats.  Rich had been in the area almost 30 years ago while working for Motorola on a Louisiana system.  He highly recommended the Jungle Gardens on the island.  So we were off to tour and wonder around.

I stopped in the New Iberia tourist information office once we got off the highway.  The man there gave me a lot of ideas for things to see and do.  He said that that the azaleas were in full bloom so the gardens would be full of blooms.   I love azaleas!

Down the road, we got into the swamps and crossed the bridge into Avery Island.  The brick buildings were ageless and had been standing for quite a while.  Walking up to the ticket office, I noticed the Tabasco sign and had to have a picture of the guys in front of it.  It was perfect.

In the museum, we went through all of the exhibits that told us the story of Tabasco.  Pretty amazing that one guy started something because he lost his job.  He knew pepper sauce and figured why not.  It has been a family business for many generations now.  The tour goes from the nursery where you see the different types of pepper plants, to the cooperage, to the mashing, to mixing and fermenting, and then on to bottling.  The line we watched was bottling garlic Tabasco for the Chinese market.  They are in just about every country of the world!

After the tour, we stopped by the Country Store to see what souvenirs were available.  Rick picked up a shirt and some sauce he couldn’t normally get.  We sampled the different sauces and some of the products made at the plant.  I most certainly don’t have the taste buds for the hot stuff.

We ambled down the road to the Jungle Gardens.  Rick ran in for a map and then we made our way down to the first stop.  This is bayou country back here.  With that, we came looking for gators.  Most of the ones we could spot were small.  We got a lot of great pictures.

The road led around through the Southern oaks hanging with Spanish moss and blooming trees and bushes.  We walked several trails.  There was a lot of timber bamboo growing in groves in the garden.  The estate uses it for railing and for bedding on the The Rookery for the storks.  We saw one of the oldest know trees in the state.  The Survey Tree was a large, overgrown tree back in 1810 when one of the settlers used it as a marker.  It was a rather larger and pretty heavily damaged tree as we looked it over.

One trail led back to a Buddha set up in a temple on a small rise.  The plaque says that the statue was pillaged from a temple in China when the Chinese Empire fell.  The rebel general scavenged the statue and sent it to New York to be sold.  A friend of the McIlhenney family told them about it and it was purchased and brought to Louisiana where it has resided since.  I’m surprised that it was not required to be returned to China.  It is beautiful and the hilltop is peaceful over the lagoon.

We took lots of pictures and walked all of the trails that we could.  We had plans to go to Gator Cove for lunch.  Rich wanted to do a crawfish boil.  Unfortunately, the Cove was closed and wouldn’t be open until 5:00.  Dinner it is then.

We stopped by the Blue Dog Café and had another round of seafood.  Rich had the crawfish enchilada.  Rick went for the crawfish pasta and I had gulf shrimp with more of the corn macque chow.  There was dirty rice with boudin sausage.  I love that stuff.  The flavor is so wonderful.

After our late lunch, we went over to the Acadian Village.  This is a collection of homes and businesses from around the area with ties to the Acadian people.  The lady in the country store was wonderful to talk to.  Her father grew up with the Acadian version of French.  She said her mother was Cajun (non-Acadian) and learned to speak French to communicate within the family group.

The houses all have history and each one is devoted to some aspect of life within the Acadian settlement.  There were lots of things to see and look at.  The village is arranged around its own version of a bayou.  It was nice to walk through and take our time.  Stopping into the offices, Rick and I went through the local art gallery.  I even had a conversation with one of the artists as she volunteers there.  She was so interesting.  From her speech and word choices, she was definitely Acadian.  It was bonus to talk with her about her art.

One the way back to the hotel to rest, Rich decided he had to have some of the local coffee to take back home.  I haven’t had any yet, that I know of, to judge if it was worth the trip to find some or not.  We passed a grocery and stopped in to see what we could find.  There were a couple of types in whole bean.  This was good enough for Rich.

Now we are back at the hotel resting up and waiting for dinner time.  Then it’s off to Gator Cove to enjoy a crawfish boil and probably get some of the BBQ to go with it.  More to come later.

Okay, I’m back.  The road outside of our hotel turned out to be a main road for everyone in Lafayette.  We turned the other direction and hoped that the Navi would come up with better directions.  It did.  We took a left and followed the road to the next road going east.  This road turned out to be directly across from the frontage road where I needed to go for the restaurant.  That was cool.

We drove down the hill and around the back of the building.  Hurrahs went up as the Open light was lit.  Time to get some crawfish boil.  I did stop the guys from going right in.  We just had to take a picture with the front doors.  The gators and crawfish were so cool.

Inside, the young lady at the podium had a great accent.  We heard y’all a bunch of times.  We got seated and ordered drinks.  When she returned we had figured out the order we wanted.  Then she threw a wrench into the order.  Do you want 3 lbs. or 5 lbs.?  That was the question.  Rich made the decision for 5 lbs of crawfish, some sausage, corn, and potatoes.  We ordered boudin and pepperjack cheese as an appetizer.

The appetizer came as eggrolls filled with goodness.  I so love boudin sausage.  It has such flavor without a lot of burn.  I do see that it is different from each person that you order it from.  Our waitress returned soon with a big black container.  When the lid came off, it was full of red bugs topped with corn and potatoes.  This was the moment for pictures before we delved in and learned the skills to twist the tail and pull out the sweet meat.

I had our waitress show me on one of the bugs first and show me how it was expertly done.  She deftly twisted the tail.  It came away easily with the outer shell attached.  Peeling off the shell, the tail was exposed and ready for dipping.  The dip was more like Russian dressing, but you could add hot sauce or horseradish.

We began digging into dinner.  Pretty soon, 5 lbs of bugs was down to just a couple.  Rick and I had reached the end.  I still wanted dessert.  Rich took care of the leftovers.  At the back of the room where sinks where you could scrub up and remove the seasoning.  It didn’t really burn the skin much, but the lips were on fire a bit.  It was highly recommended that the guys wash up good before going to the bathroom.

By the time I got back to the table, the dessert tray had come and gone.  I heard there were great things on it though.  The waitress came back with the tray and it was scrumptious.  I ordered the strawberry and dark chocolate cheesecake.  Rich got the bread pudding with whiskey sauce.  Rick got the Butterfinger cake.  Yes, it was all heavenly.

Time to pay the bill.  I just had to get t-shirts from the place first.  The guys got gray shirts that say Got Crawfish on the front with the Gator Cove logo on the back.  They were really nice.  We talked to the owner for a bit.  I guess all of the good seafood was being shipped to the Northeast since Sandy to meet demands and good money.  That was sad.  I guess they had seen better days with all of the restaurants that had opened in the area.  This was type of place that I really look for when I go to an area.  It has atmosphere and great food.

Well, dinner was over and we were so full.  It was time to head back to the hotel and settle in.  I can finish this blog and post it along with pictures from the day.  It was definitely a great day on vacation.  Tomorrow, we head to New Orleans for a couple of days.

Rich and Rick outside of the Tabasco Factory
Rich and Rick outside of the Tabasco Factory

Barrels of pepper pulp ready for formenting

Vats of pepper pulp and vinegar fermenting.
Vats of pepper pulp and vinegar fermenting.
Rick with his favorite one
Rick with his favorite one
Certified sign from the Queen
Certified sign from the Queen
Spanish moss in the Southern oaks
Spanish moss in the Southern oaks
Gators on the bank
Gators on the bank
It's just a baby gator
It’s just a baby gator
Azaelas in bloom
Azaelas in bloom
Double beauty
Double beauty
Heading down the
Heading down the
Buddha in the garden
Buddha in the garden
Purloined Buddha in its pagoda
Purloined Buddha in its pagoda
Doing limbo under the oak tree
Doing limbo under the oak tree
Pink camelia
Pink camelia
More cameilas
More cameilas
Rick versus Massurat the gator
Rick versus Massurat the gator
Lizard chasing a moth
Lizard chasing a moth
Visit to the Acadian Village
Visit to the Acadian Village
Rich feeding the fish and turtles
Rich feeding the fish and turtles
Two big kids feeding the fish and turtles.
Two big kids feeding the fish and turtles.
Welcome to the Gator Cove
Welcome to the Gator Cove
Crawfish boil with Rich and Rick for dinner
Crawfish boil with Rich and Rick for dinner
Rick getting a lesson is twisting the tail
Rick getting a lesson is twisting the tail
Rich is the expert at getting to the meat of things
Rich is the expert at getting to the meat of things

Cajun Vacation: Day 1 and Day 2 Drive, Drive, Drive

Vacation came early this year.  Rick had his spring break start on March 4.  I decided that March might be a great time to go and check out Louisiana.  As long as I was paying, Rick was up for joining us.  Sure, why not.  Besides, his 22nd birthday would be during that week.  It’ll be like old times again.

Rich had his first distiller’s conference from March 1 through 3 for his new employer, Whiskey Resources.  Not exactly the best planning, but he could use the week to rest and recover.  Vacation planning went into full on mode in December and all reservations were made by January.

Rick arrived home on March 4.  He had finished up midterms the day before.  He managed to sneak in the door without my notice.  Sascha was right on it though.  Poor baby, she hobbled to the door so fast to greet him.  I ran to join her.  My babies were both at home.

As a side note, Sascha started to hobble on Tuesday pretty bad.  I was thinking she had bruised her paw somehow on the ice and snow.  By Wednesday, it wasn’t any better.  Being the worried mom I am, I took her off to the vet that afternoon.  After a big hit to my wallet with x-rays, visit, and meds, the diagnosis was a broken toe.  Yep, she had cracked it lengthwise down the second metacarpal.  No wonder it hurt so badly.  On the x-ray, it was pretty swollen.  The vet insisted on bed rest.  I told him that was next to impossible.  At least, she was going to the kennel for vacation and would be limited to what she could do.

Rich came in on Friday afternoon.  He was still pretty excited from the conference.  He had met so many people, tried so many distilled liquors, and had so much free stuff.  He also had the beginnings of a cold.  Darn!  This is no time to get sick.  He chattered away about his time with the distillers and I listened with lots of patience.  It was great to see him get so excited about this aspect of his new job.

We were all winding down that evening as we packed and got things ready for leaving on Saturday morning.  Rich still had to keg his Husky Paws beer before we could leave.  He got up and got moving without much prodding.  As he was moving the beer from fermenter to keg, Rick and I took Sascha to the kennel.  Everyone had to make over her paw.  As usual, she didn’t plan to stay, but could make a quick enough getaway.  We said good-bye and got in one last set of hugs.

Back at the house, Rich was finishing up.  Rick and I began to pack the car.  Wow, it was almost 11 o’clock by the time we were ready.  Breakfast was next.  I should say brunch, right?  We stopped into Island Café to get something good to hold us over until dinner that evening.  I had a plan.

It was almost noon by the time we got on the road.  Traffic was fair and we made good time out to the highway.  From there, speed was good and we were sailing along.  If you have driven in Chicago, you know it is mandatory 70 miles per hour out there.  I follow that run to keep from being run over.  Pretty soon, we were on 57 and heading south.

The trip was going well so far.  The temperature was hovering around 40, but I could blue skies up ahead of us.  Rich had checked his phone for weather and reported 65 in Cairo.  No way!  Warm weather was close at hand for us.  Just about Mount Vernon, we could see the line of clouds that outline the boundary between cold and warm.  Suddenly, sunshine was all around us.  The car was registering an amazing 55.  Vacation had truly begun.

I had been trying to visit a BBQ place in Southern Illinois for the longest time.  Today was the day we would stop and try it out.  The restaurant is called 17th Street BBQ.  The main restaurant is way off the highway, but they had a satellite open in Marion, which was right off the interstate.  We made it there about 5:00 and just ahead of a crowd.

We got seated and reviewed the menu.  Tracy, our waitress, made a suggestion to get Mike Championship Platter, which came with a little bit of everything they had.  We added several sides to that and were all set.  The food arrived.  Oh my gosh!  This was definitely some of the best BBQ I have tasted.  I do believe that Rich still makes the best, this ranked right up there.  We ate until we could eat no more.

It was back on the road.  We had a couple of more hours until we could stop for the night.  Blytheville, Arkansas was the destination.  This was the halfway point for our trip.  By 6:00 PM, it was getting pretty dark.  I saw deer hanging by the side of the road and worried that I was going to have to dodge one of these things in the dark.

Luck was with us.  We had no suicidal deer, traffic was quiet, and we managed to drive in the warm night to our resting place.  That evening, Rick and I hung out in the hot tub talking while Rich rested comfortably with his box of Kleenex.  Vacation is good.

The next morning, it was breakfast at Perkins and then out on the road.  We made a stop by Walgreen’s for more cold supplies.  Memphis was relatively quiet.  Sunday mornings must be a good time to circle the city.  We’ll be back on Thursday though.

We headed south and skirted the Delta for now.  The road took us down to Jackson, Mississippi.  We did manage to get Rick to pronounce it like the locals:  Missippi.  I was amazed to find that traffic was running pretty fast today.  I was pushing the upper limits of 75 to 77 while a lot of cars and trucks were blowing by us pretty quickly.  What is this the autobahn?

Rick took over and drove for a bit.  He was nervous, but probably with good cause.  He had to manage not to hit the group of black kids crossing the highway at one point.  Then there was the guy who was halfway up an exit ramp and slammed on the brakes so he could do a U turn and cross the grassy shoulder to get back on the highway just to try it again at the next exit.  Rick did manage to avoid all of this and get to the Louisiana Welcome Center in one piece.

From there, I drove to Lafayette.  That’s not without issues though.  We got to I-10 and the world went crazy around us.  Everyone started driving 90 miles an hour.  To keep from being injured, I felt obliged to join them.  I swear that the roadway automatically turned into the Daytona 500 and the vehicles all had decals of some sort on them.  I was actually keeping up in the race for a bit, but was getting left behind pretty quickly.  We raced on until just west of Baton Rouge when all of the participants seemed to melt away.  I didn’t realize that NASCAR was invented in Louisiana!

We got off the interstate and onto the main road leading into Lafayette.   Once again, it became a race track.  The speed limit was 40, but I swear everyone around was going 60 through town.  I was trying to keep up to prevent getting run over.  The turn for our hotel came and it led to a nice, calm street.  After several turns, we found the inviting lights of our hotel.

Inside, we talked to the clerk about the area.  He was quite humorous and had a lot of jokes to tell.  I asked for a recommendation on a restaurant.  Being Sunday, I figured most things would be closed and I was right.  He gave a coupon for Prejean’s, which I had looked at.  He assured us the Cajun food would be great.  We unpacked and headed out

This took us back out to the main road and the race was on again.  I even got passed by a sheriff’s car racing with someone else.  I guess it was just is the normal mode around here.  We made it up the road and off the expressway to Prejean’s.  Luckily, it wasn’t too busy.  The hostess tried to seat us directly in front of the Cajun band that was playing.  I asked to be seated at least one table back.  It was hard enough to hear and talk.

Scotty was our waiter.  He took our order without writing any of it down.  We had gator bites to start.  Rich got duck and andouille sausage gumbo while Rick had chicken and sausage gumbo.  It came with rice on the side and a nice yeast garlic roll.  I had the crab cakes with corn macque chow and rice pudding.  Rich got crawfish etouffee.  Rick ordered the seafood Alfred with crawfish, shrimp, crab, and some other seafood offerings.  I tasted it all just to be sure.  It was all so wonderful.  We had no room for dessert was the only regret.

Back out to the car and get gas in this out of the way location.  Then  it was back to the race track and a fast run down to Kaliste Saloom Rd.  Even the semis were trying to drive the route at 60.  It was impressive.  I wonder if it is better during the week.

Well, that’s the first couple of days of vacation.  Tomorrow, we are touring the Tabasco Factory at Avery Island.  From there, we plan to see a plantation, if I can find one that is open on Mondays.  The Acadian Village is closed so there went that plan.  Still, there is good food to be had out here and we plan to find some more.  Where is that crawfish boil?

Stink, stank, stunk

Saturday night is quiet.  Just me and my hubby hanging out enjoying a little quiet time together.  About 10 o’clock, Sascha needs to go out for the evening.  We talk about going to bed soon.  Sascha wants to go and stretch her legs around the yard.  I’m sure she will be some squatting and depositing her last of the evening.

It is cold out.  I go through the usual routine of having Sascha sit on the rug.  She knows she has to sit and stay before I can open the door.  She sat and looked pretty proud of herself for doing it.  The door came open and up she popped to bounce out the door.  In the little garage, Sascha did a couple of hops and twists.  She always seems so happy to go out.

At the back door, she poked me in the back of the knees.  It’s her way of saying I wasn’t moving fast enough.  That impatient Border Collie likes things to move at her pace and not mine.  I grab her collar so I can ensure she doesn’t dash out the door before I can hook on the lead.  That rambunctious Husky would run and run until she’s tired.  Then she’d stop to look around and see where she was, miles from home.

The hook clasps onto the D ring on her collar.  I hold on to the lead and stick my head out of the door.  “Yahoo,” I yell.  “Look out world, here she comes!”  She darts out of the door and slinks into stealth mode on silent feet over to the deck.  Her nose goes in between the stairs as she tests to be sure whether her quarry is still under there or not.

He must not be hope at the moment.  Sascha dances off around the snow pile and out into the snowy yard.  She prances around and flips snow around her.  Finally, she circles the empty patch of yard that has been exposed by the daytime sunlight.  First, it’s the squat.  There is another circle around the patch of yard before she picks just the right spot for the last bit of action.

I stand in the doorway calling out, “Sascha, come here, Sascha!”  Of course, she ignores me.  She heads toward me and then veers off toward Rich’s garage.  Her nose goes up and I see the hackles on her back go up.  I heard the coyotes earlier howling.  I hope they aren’t stalking the roads just yet.  Her nose goes higher and she starts sniffing really fast.  What in the heck!  I call out some more and try to entice her to head on into the house.

Suddenly, something small and furry steps out from the doghouse.  Sascha’s head whips around toward me.  I see her eyes go wide and she gets that silly grin on her face.  She is thinking, “small and furry thing!”  I look down and see the small and furry thing moving very fast in front of me.  Now, my eyes get wide.  Skunk!

I swear that Sascha came across the driveway in a single bound to grab the skunk by the back of the neck!  I scream really loud and slam the door shut.  I just can’t stand there waiting to get sprayed.

I’m off like a flash racing for the back door into the house.  “Oh my god!” I yell as I come into the kitchen. “The skunk is back and Sascha has him.”  Rich jumps up and comes running toward me.  I head for the hallway closet to get the supplies for the preparedness kit.  The groomer gave me a recipe for a neutralizer in case Sascha ever got skunked.  Thankfully, I got the supplies and had them on hand.  How did I know?

Rich ran to get a bucket to use for the mixture.  I got the peroxide, Dawn, and baking soda from the closet.  I look for a sponge under the kitchen sink.  We look over the recipe and talk about the expected results.  I run to the closet to find old clothes I can throw away and change quickly.  Then I leave the kitchen and let Rich put together the ingredients in the blue bucket.  Time to find out where Sascha is and how bad it is out there.

I walk to the garage door on the driveway.  Looking through the mullioned panes, I don’t see her or the skunk.  I slowly open the door and stick my head out.  Nope, no black dog or black and white small and furry thing around.  I move out around the snow pile.  There is Sascha out in the yard holding down her new friend.

I start to yell for Sascha.  She is just way too happy out there.  The fluffy tail is wagging and her head is bobbing up and down.  She is playing with the skunk.  Unfortunately, the skunk is lying out flat.  Is he dead?  No, wait.  His head comes up and his tail comes up.  Sascha seems to laugh and slaps him back down with her huge paw.  That can’t be good.  She reaches out and grabs him by the scruff of the neck.  I can’t hear laughter, but she seems to have the body posture for laughter.  She’s enjoying herself.

So the skunk is not dead.  That’s bad.  I have to try and get her away from him.  I walk out past the slab in front of Rich’s garage.  Sascha’s line stretches out over my head.  With my hand up way over my head, I walk until I snag the line.  I start trying to reel Sascha in and she fights me every step of the way.  She stops and digs in her feet to stop me from pulling her.  I can’t drag her any closer and she tries to slip out of her collar.  Darn dog!

I shift my weight and yank really hard.  Sascha comes forward toward me about a half a foot.  I get my footing and pull her again.  Now I can drag her toward me.  I keep reeling her in toward me.  She lunges backwards and almost pulls me over.  I catch myself and dig in my heels.  Two stubborn females can put up quite the battle, but I’m winning this one.

I manage to get Sascha all the way to the driveway.  Now I had to hold her there.  She is barking and jumping around like crazy.  Calm down, you nut!  By the time I haul Sascha to the house, Rich is outside with the bucket and sponge.  Time to start swabbing down the crazy dog.

I hook my hand through Sascha’s collar and reach for the sponge in the bucket.  The water is nice in warm and it is freezing cold outside.  This is going to be fun.  I start at Sascha’s head and dab on the soapy mixture.  As I reach into the bucket, I look up to check on the skunk.  Oh my god, he is up on his feet and walking toward us.  What does he think he’s going to do, kick Sascha’s butt?

I yell for Rich to do something to stop the skunk.  What would that be?  I send Rich inside for a flashlight.  I figure shining a light on the skunk might stop him.  Luckily, the skunk changes his mind and starts to totter off to the deck.  He is going back into hiding.  Really?  He’s probably just going under there to die!

Rich can’t convince the skunk to stop his tottering.  The skunk is probably in pain.  He is just thinking about getting to safety now.  I have to say he is a lot slower now than he was when he tried to run by me earlier.

Rich waves good-bye to the skunk and hooks up the water hose.  I keep working solution into the thick Husky fur.  Sascha is still trying to jump and dance around.  She’s not ready to let the skunk slink off to lick his wounds.  She almost pulls me over to the ground.  Somehow, I catch myself and get my feet back under me.  I’m still more stubborn than she is mad.

Rich holds the bucket while I dunk Sascha’s tail in and swish it around.  I massage in the solution that I’ve applied.  Time to apply more solution to the face and down the body.  Rich gets the nozzle ready for the first spray.  The water is cold, but it should do its job.  Sascha stops for a minute when the water falls over her.  Then she starts fighting back to keep from being dowsed well.  I hook my hand in a little bit deeper and hang on for dear life.  With the other hand, I squeegee soap mixture and water through thick dog hair.

We think we have the first dose washed off and try to see if Sascha still smells.  Yep, that is a definite.  I drag the dog back over to the bucket and start applying solution again.  Sascha is a little calmer, but doesn’t want to stand still.  She moves around and tries her best to avoid the sponge.  No way!  You do the crime, then you put in the time.

One more soak down with solutions.  Rich is standing by with the hose and ready to rinse.  I drag Sascha over to rinse down again.  We work together against her best efforts to shrug us off.  Finally, the water is running clearer.  The sniff test indicates Sascha doesn’t smell as strong.  There is still the question about whether she is skunk free or not.

All that solution and rinsing has left a he puddle of ice forming on the driveway.  I am slipping and sliding as I try to hold Sascha.  She is still trying to get back to the yard to look for her little friend.  That isn’t going to happen.  Time to drag this dog into the workshop.  Rich brought the crate up from the basement.  Unfortunately, Sascha is spending the night out here until we can determine her scent status.  She could potentially contaminate the whole house.

Rich grabs Sascha by the collar and leverages her into the crate.  She is not happy.  There is a lot of whining and crying.  Oh no, she is most definitely not happy.  In the meantime, we stop and get our breath.  Too soon for that though.  The workshop smells like skunk!  We figure the skunk started to spray when Sascha first grabbed him just outside of the door.  That makes it right in front of the outside wall of the workshop.  Great.  Now we hope the smell doesn’t make its way inside the house.

Back out in the driveway, we start picking up buckets and sponges.  The water is solidified into a sheet of ice.  I walk gingerly around it to gather things up.  My pants legs are soaking wet from slinging water and solution.  My sweatshirt sleeves are dripping wet.  Now that I’m no longer struggling with a wet dog, I’m cold!

We finish the clean up and move inside.  I strip off the wet clothes and grab a robe from the laundry room.  Nice to have these hanging here for the hot tub.  I don’t have to wander through the house in wet and smelly clothes.  Next, I get a garbage bag and pile my clothes into it.  These are toast.  No point in keeping these.  It’s out to the garbage can in the garage with these things.  Sascha whines as I walk by her.

Back in the house, I try to warm up.  The adrenaline is wearing off and I start to relive the incident.  Rich asks questions and I try to answer them.  He asks why I didn’t announce that Sascha was coming out of the door.  I explain that I was trying to bring her in and not put her out.  I told him how the skunk tried to run past the door on his way to the deck stairs.  That’s how he got in and out from that side of the driveway.  On the other side, he climbed over Rick’s kayak and around the side of the house.

Remember a couple of weeks ago, Rich and I came home late one night.  I hit the garage door opener and turned into the driveway.  The skunk was walking in front of the door at just that time.  We surprised him and he ran into the garage.  I had to back out and turn off the headlights.  He eventually made his way out of the garage and ran around the front of the house.  I assume he took the back way to the deck.  I should have known one of these days he would try coming around while Sascha was out.  I guess that day came.

On Sunday morning, we rescue Sascha from her crate.  She is upset, but seems unharmed.  While she is outside, I run to the drug store for more supplies.  We plan to soak her down again.  I got another collar while I was out.  We figure that one on Sascha was toast.  No point in keeping the stinky thing.

Back at the house, Rich grabs Sascha and gets her downstairs to the basement.  I shut the doors to the back room and Rich puts the dog into the utility sink.  Time for round two to begin.  Rich is in charge of applying solution and working it in.  I’m in the support role this time and maneuver the dog so solution can be applied to all areas.  Then it is time for the rinse.  Like they say, rinse and repeat.  We manage to get another cycle in.

With towels applied to all part of the dog, we stand back to admire our handiwork.  Sascha is finally happy.  Amazingly, there is little odor.  The only spot we can tell there is a problem is the nose.  We figure she took in spray through her nose and mouth.  That means that she has scent in those linings and not much you can do about that.

I find an older cover to throw over the couch and Sascha settles in to link her wet paws.  For now, the plan is for Sascha to spend some time in the basement to be sure that she doesn’t regenerate that skunky smell again.  Since she is upset about being left by herself, I join her on the couch and hang out for a while.  It has been a long and rough few hours for her.  After an hour, Sascha still smells like Dawn.  That is a good sign.  Of course, her face still smells bad.

After a quick conference, we agree that she can come back upstairs.  There is no red chair time, of course.  That means her face is too close to your own.  She moves around the house lying in the sun and under Rich’s desk.  It is almost back to normal.

We did worry about injuries that Sascha might have gotten from the skunk or from the treatment.  After an inspection, I don’t find any scratches, bites, or scrapes.  I don’t know how, but she came out of the experience unscathed.  That is if you don’t count the intervention on the scent.  I call the vet to make sure I don’t need to take her in.  They don’t want her in the office if she isn’t hurt.  I think they are worried about the possible smell.  I assure them she is almost totally scent free.  I don’t think they believe me.  She isn’t hurt, so there is no need for the long ride to their office.  I put in a call to the groomer so she is aware of the situation and can call me on Monday.

Monday morning came.  Rich felt that he was safe to return to work.  I still wonder if I smell like skunk a bit.  I was first line of defense.  That makes me a little leery of walking into the office.  I stay at home.  I need to talk to the groomer to try and schedule an appointment for a real bath.  Lorraine calls me and we talk.  I thank her for the preparedness kit.  It was a lifesaver.  Monday is busy, but one of the groomers will come by on Tuesday to bath and check Sascha out.

During the day, I run out to buy a new lead for outside.  I realize my hand smells like skunk whenever I put Sascha out.  I didn’t stop to think about the condition of the lead prior to that.  While I’m at the pet store, I look for something to help with bad breath.  I just don’t know if it will help with skunk breath.

Every time I put Sascha out, I look very carefully for the little black and white friend.  They usually only come out at dusk, but I still worry.  This evening, I made lots of noise and looked for him everywhere.  It won’t help though.  We were making lots of noise when he tried to rush by us.  Stupid skunk!

So it was a quiet Saturday.  Then it wasn’t.  I figure when the weather warms up, we’ll know whether the skunk made it or not.

P.S. Rich plans to pour ammonia into the cracks of the deck to chase out anything that could be living.  We might see Sascha’s little friend sooner, if he made it through the night.

Sorry, there are no pictures for any of this.  Probably a good thing though.

Maybe there is a blues song in this story.  Wonder what that would sound like?  Would it be a boogie we could call the Skunk Boogie or just the Sascha Skunk Solution Blues?