“I hope this the one that got them free boudins today.” The man holding the door for me said as I stepped into the gas station. You say boudin just like it’s spelled boo-dan. I didn’t know him from Adam’s house cat, and I wasn’t planning to even go inside but the pump didn’t print my receipt, but he had me asking the same question: what about them free boudins? I like gas station food. I’m not talking about Funyons and a Grapico, or anything you get off the shelves-I like that too-I’m talking about the food that they have by the counter. That rotating pizza in that little glass display case always always makes me stop and have an internal dialogue: To eat or not to eat, that is the question: Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous hunger, or to take arms against the sea of cravings and and by opposing end them…To eat, perchance to snack-ay there’s the rub…
Here is the man finding out that this was not the day for free boudins.
One of the reasons I started cycling is I got into the habit of getting a pork tenderloin biscuit at the gas station on the way to work.
I’m used to gas station pizza, biscuits, and the crockpot full of boiled peanuts, but since I have relocated to Louisiana I realize that many people here take gas station food seriously. They even have jargon for it: “Hotbox.” Maybe that’s what it is called everywhere, but I also know another definition for that term.
Admittedly, the gas station food I grew up around often tasted a little like compromise with an aftertaste of regret. That is not the case in the Central Louisiana region. I will not go so far as to say it is healthy, but how often do healthy and good really coexist, especially in the context of food? We could probably square up with one another on deciding whether the food is good-there is no accounting for taste- but I think would all have to agree that the food is consistently hot, which is more than I can say about many fast food restaurants.
My brother has lived in Louisiana so long that he prefers the gas station fried chicken over Popeye’s and KFC. I’m not sure if he has gone native enough to believe that it is better than Cane’s or Chick-Fil-A, but we don’t have a Cane’s or a Chick-Fil-A within 30 minutes of where we live. I tried that gas station chicken the other day for the first time-Krispy Krunchy Chicken-and it is hard to argue with how good it is. They are in gas stations all around this area.
Did you know that Louisiana is in the Diabetes Belt?
“I had one of the best fried pork chops I’ve ever had in my life the other day at a gas station in the ghetto in Delhi.”-Joe Bowen
I’m not really sure if we’re supposed to say ghetto in 2024, but the next time I’m in Delhi I’ll look for that gas station.
These Hotboxes have caused me to ask some serious questions about fast food: Why should I pay a premium for cold food and poor service? I don’t mind waiting on hot fries, but why would I pay to wait for cold fries? Most of the gas stations will whip you up a fresh batch of fries, boudin balls, chicken, or whatever you want if you don’t mind waiting. I think the biggest question is whether fast food is worth the money in today’s economy. That is a serious question when you are feeding a family of five.
I understand that people don’t make Central Louisiana a vacation destination. But the next time you are “passing through”, don’t be afraid to try some gas station food. It’s going to be a lot better than you think.
Look at that country fried steak!Those little meat pies are really good.
When was the last time you had a good peach? The kind that you bite into and the juice runs down your chin but you don’t even care?
When was the last time you had a good peach? The kind that you bite into and the juice runs down your chin but you don’t even care? A good peach ought to give a little when you touch it. You know it’ll be juicy if it leaves a thumb imprint. Sarah brought home some peaches from the store. Georgia Juicy the bag said. And they were. I ate five peaches one morning. I don’t know if peaches are my favorite fruit but they are in the top 25. I like to have to wipe my elbows when I get done eating a peach. The next week she went to a different store and brought home some peaches with the bag that said Fuzzies. I wouldn’t say the fuzz on a peach is the most appetizing or marketable feature. I do eat the skin. I know some people don’t like that, but it doesn’t bother me. I do like to rinse peaches before I eat them just to slick that fuzz down a little. It’s sort of like combing your hair before you go to church: it’s still the same old hair, but it just looks a little nicer when a bit wet.
Do peaches really need marketing?
I’m sort of glad that peaches are seasonal. Would they be as special if you could get them every day? Even when they are in season you might not get a great batch of them.
Peaches are the kind of food that don’t just taste good as an ingredient: A peach is good all by itself. But if I had to pick my favorite peach concoctions it be in these. Peach ice cream. Peach cobbler. Fried peach pie. I would like some homemade peach ice cream straight out of the container when it is still the consistency of a thick milkshake. Where you can use a spoon because you are mannerly, but really you can just drink it.
Have you ever wondered what it takes to acquire a taste? People are always eating weird stuff and telling you how good it is and then you work up the nerve and taste it and it tastes exactly how you thought it would taste: nasty. I tried Goat Head Soup once and it was as bad as it sounds but better than it smelled. My friends-who had grown up eating it- were just wearing it out, laughing at me. They had acquired a taste for this through early introduction. When you’ve grown up eating something weird all of your life you don’t know it is weird.
Its good if you like it.
Bo
Fried chick livers and gizzards was the first acquired taste for an odd food by early introduction for me. I don’t remember not liking them, or even realizing that most people don’t like them. I still wonder why a lot of people don’t like them. I just remember having them from time to time and Dad being real excited. If you put enough ketchup on anything fried you can make it taste good. But now I genuinely enjoy eating chicken livers, even though I know it is like eating the oil filter out of a car. And part of that is nostalgia. I eat chicken livers and I am transported back to the old kitchen and I can hear the sizzling iron skillet and the happy voices interrupted by bursts of laughter.
Sometimes nostalgia will make you acquire a taste for a dish that was always around but you never ate as a child. This happed to me with sauerkraut. I never really bothered with sauerkraut as a kid and my parents never tried to force it on me. But it was around quite a bit. I just ate the ribs, pork-chops, or weenies that were usually cooked in sauerkraut. I rarely if ever, just went in for a big bite of nothing but kraut. I think I was out of high school when I first helped Nonna make some sauerkraut in the churn. Uncle Freddy used to help her. I remember him sitting on the hearth and packing the cabbage into the churn with the wooden dasher that Nonna would get on to us grandkids for playing with. He was recently gone. I think that is why I wanted to help her. Here was a recipe and ritual that I felt like I need to learn. It turned out to be fairly simple. I don’t know how y’all’s family made sauerkraut but Nonna just used cabbage, salt, and water. You grate the cabbage as fine as you like and then layer it in the churn, packing it down with that wooden thing and salting each layer. Then you cover the top layer with a few whole cabbage leaves and make sure it is covered with water. Then you set it in the well-house to rot for a few weeks. After it is sufficiently fermented you can it. Then you eat it. If you have a taste for it.
There is no accounting for taste.
After helping make the sauerkraut, I really wanted to like it just out of nostalgia. So I tried it again with an open mind. I don’t remember if I liked it right away but I pretended that I did until I didn’t have to pretend any more. Sauerkraut is the gateway dish to acquiring strong taste. Or is it coleslaw? If you can learn to like coleslaw, then you can learn to like kraut. If you learn to like kraut you can learn to like kimchi. If you can like kimchi, you can like just about anything.
I’m not sure if this is what the Koreans intended, but I like kimchi on my hot dogs.
If you want to acquire a taste for sauerkraut, I suggest that you try ribs and kraut. Which was one of Nonna’s frequent dishes. Braise some ribs in a large skillet-make sure you season them however you like. Then once you have the ribs seared on each side you pour a whole jar of kraut in the skillet and then rinse the jar and add that water as well, you don’t want waste any of that kraut essence. Then you cover and let those ribs simmer in that kraut until they are done. Then you eat everything. And honey them is some of the best ribs you’ll ever have. That’s what Nonna-who had also been present at all of the family barbecues where dozens of hogs gave their life for our holiday weekends and I once made myself sick eating barbecued ribs-told me when I asked her about the recipe for ribs and kraut. This is one of my favorite dishes. And I may not like it more than barbecue ribs, but I like it as much.
Ribs and Kraut. I could eat some right now.
You can also acquire a taste for something just because you are feeling adventurous. If you want to like bleu cheese try it on a Ritz cracker with a little drizzle of honey. This is the kind of thing that rich people serve at Christmas parties. Or people like me just eat at their office desk.
You can logically and accidentally acquire a taste. Sardines are a good example of this. If you want to like sardines, you have to first get serious about eating healthy and exercising. Then you’ll start doing a lot of research about foods that are good for you and all that nonsense and you’ll soon discover how healthy sardines are for you. And you’ll get a can of sardines just to try not because of how they may taste, but because you know that they are good for you. And you’ll close your eyes to eat them, and realize that they aren’t half as bad as you thought they would be. Then you keep eating them because you’re on a diet, and the next thing you know you have acquired a taste.
O taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him. Psalm 34:8
Some things cannot be described or explained, they just have to be experienced to be understood.
I have lost culinary credibility due to my many acquired tastes and now some of my closest friends no longer trust my food recommendations. This is simply the high price of have a refined palette. It isn’t easy be cultured among a bunch of friends with the taste preferences of prepubescent cave men. I used to be just as picky as them though. Until one day I was hungry. I was visiting my brother at college and for dinner they served chicken fettuccine alfredo with mushrooms. And there were a lot more mushrooms that chicken. But because I was genuinely stomach growling hungry I just ate those mushrooms like I had been eating them professionally for years. And I liked them. And I still like them. Even so, if they’d have been serving pork brains and eggs I’d’ve probably acquired a taste for them that day.
My mom used to tell us this story when we said we were hungry and then refused whatever she offered. “You aren’t really hungry” she would say. Then we’d hear it again.
When I was a little girl I was at Fat Momma’s house-or was it Aunt Dale’s? I wish Mom was here to tell it again.
“I’m hungry.”
“I’ll make you a tomato sandwich.”
“I don’t like tomatoes.”
…real hunger doesn’t take a break…
“I’m hungry.”
“Baby all I have is a tomato sandwich.”
“…Ok. I’ll try one.”
Then Mom would tell us how good that tomato sandwich was and how she still loved tomato sandwiches.
The full soul loatheth an honeycomb; but to the hungry soul every bitter thing is sweet. Proverbs 27:7
Thanks for reading! I’m fixing to go make an egg salad and anchovy sandwich.
Mostly From Memory 