FIRST: YOU DO NOT MAKE A ROUX (roo)!!!
Seriously. I mean that, I really do. If you are “roux challenged”, then fret no more. This little recipe right here is going to set you free. And it’s just in time for all those leftover mudbugs that nobody ever wants to peel, and because most of us stuff ourselves to the point of bursting the day of the crawfish boil, we don’t care to see another boiled bug until maybe next weekend!
Springtime down the bayou signals that it’s time to enjoy not only the weather but one of our cultural trademarks–the crawfish boil.
Since I was out of town for a couple days, and then sick in bed upon my return for another day, I was concerned that the owlets might have flown the nest in my absence.
Come, take a closer look. I d a r e you!
Two little Who Dats, dat’s who!
1981 – Shortly after The Captain gave me the ruby engagement ring, we moved from my little apartment in Thibodaux to a rent house in his home community of Dulac, meaning “of the lake” because it sits on the edge of Lake Boudreaux. Bayou Grand Caillou, which means “big rock”, runs through the community. It’s…