A story in which my brother and I drive to Baton Rouge, eat catfish po-boys, gumbo, and 5 pounds of crawdads, only to drive back again the following day.
I 55 - nearing Bation Rouge
It sounded like a great idea at the time. My brother is the head brewer at Foremost Brewing Cooperative and had found some small fermentation tanks for sale in Baton Rouge. He wanted the small fermenters to test recipes and make small batches for special releases. All he needed was someone to help him make the drive. I decided to go with him.
We left his house at 8 am - determined to make it at least halfway on the first day. I had scouted a few places to search for bourbon that we can't find in Minnesota, so we had some quick stops scheduled every couple of hours to help break up the trip. We made it to St Louis for an early dinner at Sugarfire - excellent BBQ and wings! We made it as far Sikeston, MO - about halfway between St Louis and Memphis - and grabbed a hotel room for the night.
We had a leisurely start to the day, but were soon driving through some serious rain and wind for the better part of the morning - there was a constant wall cloud on the horizon ahead of us all the way through northeastern Arkansas, making it look both eerie and ugly. It wasn't until we reached Memphis that the sun found its way out of the clouds (we learned later that there was a tornado in Lafayette, LA killing 12 people during its rampage). After the weather cleared, we made better time blasting our way through Mississippi for the next few hours.
Despite being long, the drive was pretty easy. Straight, no curves to speak of, surprisingly, and very few semis. Two important things about road trips are the company one keeps and the music one listens to along the way. Terrence has over 30,000 songs on his iPod, so we had loads of good driving tunes to keep us company. As we approached Jackson, we cranked Johnny and June singing along before switching over to Lucinda, The Grateful Dead, Townes Van Zandt, and hours of bluegrassy blues.
Views through the windshield - you gotta drive when the drivin's good.
We made it to 75 degrees, sunny and green Baton Rouge by about 5:30 pm having skipped a few planned bourbon stops due to poor google navigation. We met Brian. Purchased the aforementioned fermenters and then went in search of some gumbo. It was a Friday night - and the joints were jumpin'. Hot Tails had been recommended to us, so we went. It was an hour-long wait to get inside but beers were available and so consumed. Being lapsed Catholics, we didn't care one way or the other but we eschewed meat options for fish. Terrence went for gumbo, I started with a catfish po'boy and together we murdered a 5 lb serving of boiled crawdads. After dinner. we drove about 45 minutes in the direction of home to Hammond, LA, and found a cheap motel for the night. It was clean enough and inexpensive.
Oh, did you want some? Sorry! That's what 5 lbs of crawdads look like.
Saturday morning found us heading north (with a pair of cheap sunglasses bought at the gas station) and listening to ZZ Top. The miles ran beneath our tires and we were in Memphis by about 1 pm, walking Beale Street, grabbing ribs, slaw, and pickles at Rendevouz in an alley near the Peabody Hotel, and then touring Sun Studios - the birthplace of rock n roll - where the likes of Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Elvis Presley recorded many of their songs. You may have heard of them. We bought a couple of bottles of Tennessee whiskey and got back on the road.
We made it to O'Fallon, the northwest edge of the St Louis metro area - home of some of the worst drivers in the world - and found a Holiday Inn Express to our liking. In the morning, we drove our way through the bleak midwinter plains of Missouri and southern Iowa, heading toward winter.
More of the road, with a drive-through of Hannibal, MO.
We stopped in Waterloo for a late lunch at Rodney's Kitchen - for some incredible soul food. Because it was a Sunday, and Rodney was the only one working, there were only two things on the menu. Fried catfish or fried chicken - with sides of course. 12 bucks. Soda and beer were a dollar, but the beer was free if you tipped. We tipped. Rodney's is no joke. The sides (mac n cheese, green beans, cole slaw) may have been prepped and prepared, but Rodney hand-breaded and made the catfish and chicken to order. It was hot and very good. So good that we tipped again as we left and then made the final push to home, encountering snow and a sleeting rain nearly the minute we crossed over into Minnesota. Mission accomplished.
Rodney's - you'll find it if you just look for it. Not open on Mondays.
Great road trip story, Kevin!