Local Cuisine

Crossing the Mississippi

Gail says I should have lots of fodder for today’s blog.  We stopped at a small family-run Catfish One roadside food stand.  Based on the number of customers for the size of the building, about the size of our covered wagon, aka RV camper van, we figured the food must be good.  Every nook and cranny on the street and in a small gravel pad had a vehicle.  I pulled up to the curb with our tail sticking into the entrance to the gravel pad but it seemed like the thing to do.  Later as I waited for the food I pulled it forward to align with the curb.

 

The menu was nicely painted on a four by eight plywood with the words catfish, shrimp and po-boy repeated several times.  I quickly decided to go with the “light box” of each a catfish and a shrimp.  The two customers in line ordered quickly as did I.  I used a credit card and she said they’d call the name on the card.  I moved out of the way of traffic and watched Charlie as he surveyed the area from the driver’s seat.  Unfortunately my camera was charging in the van so there’s no picture of Charlie driving.

 

Waiting for their food were about a dozen characters among the eleven persons standing around.  Most had a deep southern draw.  We’re in McComb, Mississippi, just north of the toe of the Louisiana shoe-shaped state.  Most were blacks with a couple white males and white lady.  The first gent who was not afraid of talking out, said he had already ordered; he was waiting.  He presented himself as playful and friendly.  Others seem to take that as too outgoing, but they accepted him.

 

A later arrival tall white elderly gent was bit bent over and displayed a shaking hand and insecure balance.  He carefully sat down and waited his order.  He appeared to know his way around so I suspect he was a regular.

 

A gent who backed his pickup against a curb some distance from the stand, arrived before me but studied the menu carefully so I got to order before him.  After he ordered he took his stand at the far end of the outdoor patio and started chatting.  Apparently he had an opinion about the vaccinations (I didn’t hear his take) but he had COVID twice and once he didn’t even know it.

 

A young mid-aged lady was notable as she was wearing a neck-to-toe brilliantly colored and patterned jumpsuit (I’m not a fashion guru so you might more correctly call it something else).  It fully covered her skin but did not conceal any of her shape.  Her slip-on rhinestone covered scandals glistened in the sun.  She must have ordered something that was already cooked because she was in and out in a flash.

 

The staff looked like this.  A older woman, but not near as old as I, with a bandana around her head took the orders.  Two men and a young (maybe 25-year old) woman filled the orders into styrofoam shells from bins of deep fried foods which were refilled with pizza pan platters of greasy food from the kitchen to our right.  Another young lady, maybe a late teenager, brought the bags of food to a second window and called out the names.  Sometimes it was hard to hear so the lady next to me repeated the call and declared, “I must be the outside one to repeat the names.”  Just another character in the crowd.  One of her children and family were Guatemala as missionaries and trying to establish residency.

 

I think about four persons were wearing masks, as was I.  Several of the customers were a bit on the chubby size, probably not from the catfish but more than likely from the way they were prepared – deep-fried in tasty fat.

 

I suspect my wait was about a half-hour during which time Gail affirmed our stops with relatives in Florida and Georgia in the next several days.  We’re in a WalMart parking along with several truckers and RV’s.  It’s been a cool windy, long day and it feels good to put the feet up with some tasty local cuisine.  We have had several cool windy days and are looking forward to a quiet warm relaxing day and evening.