Nothing too far out at all.
It was a number of years ago, long before Katrina, and we went to NO for a long weekend. Knew it was a party town but did not realize the bars were open at 6 AM.
Well we ate and drank and shopped (new bil was, and is , a displaced Cajun. We put together a lovely Christmas package for him and sil of local goodies.)
Then it was about lunch time and walked by a joint. Actually calling it a joint would be the equivalent of calling Mickey D's a four star Michelin place.
Undaunted by the appearance (maybe buoyed by the fact that the bars were all open, did I mention that, and one could only shop so long) we went in and had a fantastic meal. Later learned it was a famous NO restaurant. Go figure.
Very sated and happy we left and decided to walk about the Quarter.
And then we found it. There it was, just tucked into a notch between two disheveled buildings (aren't they all?).
It was a boudin stand.
Now that might not seem like a very momentous event to many, particularly to a Cajun who was weaned on the stuff, but we had never had the McCoy.
We had made some ourselves, a number of times, but how can one judge ones own product having not tasted the original? (Bil was 800 miles away so could not use him as a judge).
We thought our attempts were tasty, maybe even a tad better than that, but would a Cajun approve of our efforts, laugh, or hurl?
One of our missions in going to NO was to try true boudin. OK, OK, it was not like searching for the Holy Grail, but it was something to strive for.
But no one could tell us where to find any. The concierge at the hotel sort of snorted and said that was Cajun (which we knew) and NO was Creole (which we also knew), and implied boudin was po' peoples' food.
Both of us were raised on po' people's' food and became a bit offended. Maybe affected by the fact that all of the bars were open, did I mention that, I was going to reply to the concierge, but one of us smiled, said thanks, and got me away from the supercilious witch.
Anyway we came upon it, the culinary equivalent to us of the Holy Grail, a Boudin Stand.
Although we had just eaten every variation of New Orleans fare at the (very, very famous, but what did we know) greasy spoon we had to try it.
Culinary kismet only rarely exposes itself and when it does I don't care if I am looking like one those alligators at a Florida gator place with half uneaten fish sticking out of my mouth, we were going to have the boudin.
Found it tasty, even delectable. And it tasted just like the stuff we had made. Yippee!
I have no idea how Julius Caesar felt after one of his victories, or how General McArthur felt upon returning to the Plillipines.
But it was a victory to us.
Went back the next day and could not find it. Am pretty good with directions, show me a place once and I have it. Just the way I am built.
But there was just not a notch beteen any buildings we could find.
Asked about a bit and no one ever heard of a boudin stand.
In fact, no one could ever remember having heard of a boudin stand.
It may seem a bit wierd and it does to us too. And yes, the bars were open (did I mention that?), but this really happened.
The morning we left we had the cab stop at the local grocer and picked up some genuine boudin. It was good but not the stuff we put out.
That is almost the most unusual food experience ai can think of when we were on the road.
And did I mention the bars were open?