Feb. 20, 2003

I stopped for a quick lunch at Cajun Tales seafood restaurant in Welsh, LA. Grabbed a cup of red beans and rice, opting out of other exotic-sounding dishes like crawfish étouffée and broiled stuffed catfish. It was a good choice, nothing fancy but the food hit the spot.

Always on the trail of impulsive travel, this must have put me into Cajun mode. I pulled out brochures I’d picked up at the welcome center near the state border and browsed some potential options, then headed east again until the sun started to disappear behind me. It was thus that I ended up in Breaux Bridge for the night on the Bayou Teche.

Now, I’ve got to say straight out that Bayou Boudin & Cracklin’s Bed and Breakfast Cabins are not for the luxury-minded, in spite of the elegant decor in a couple of their nine cabins.  

These rustic units do sit on the bayou, narrow as it is at this location, and are not far off the street, which makes for some rumbling traffic noise. They’ve been brought in one by one from other locations and fixed up to provide down-home lodging behind the popular Bayou Boudin & Cracklin Cafe, which is housed in an 1869 Acadian house.  A giant metal crawfish overlooks the property and parking lot. This place is not for the faint of heart.

That said, Rocky and Lisa Sonnier, who own and run both the cafe and cabins, are just about the nicest people you’ll ever meet. And they love what they do. It shows in the friendly way they greet each customer and in the excellent hospitality they offered me while I was there. With no phone lines in the cabins for internet access, they hooked up a phone extension on the back porch for me, running it from a line in the kitchen. When I accidentally turned off the pilot in the gas fireplace—yes, I chose one of the nicer units, after looking at some of the very basic ones—Lisa was there in a flash to relight it.

Complimentary breakfast was included here, and Rocky was just as cheerful and charming as could be while cooking up a full breakfast of spicy sausage, ham, scrambled eggs and toast, which he served with orange juice and coffee. This morning meal is served in the cafe, a quaint building with wooden picnic tables, crawfish wind chimes and small accordions hanging from the ceiling, cajun music playing, and a wood stove going for heat. Cajun French seemed the first language of choice, mixed with some good old Southern talk. Between breakfast plates Rocky waited on many customers, clearly regulars, who stopped by for homemade boudin and cracklins.

What? Oh, yeah. I didn’t know what that was either, but it turned out boudin is a mixture of boiled pork, liver, and rice, stuffed into a casing. Cracklins are crunchy, spicy, fried pork rinds. I admit I was a little afraid to try these local delicacies, but when Lisa presented me with a platter to go—usually served upon arrival for overnight guests, but I had arrived late—I went ahead and took a few bites. I have to admit it was good. According to one of the locals who stopped by, Rocky and Lisa’s boudin and cracklins are the best around. Perhaps this is why Rocky was named “Cracklin King” in a regional contest. The homemade root beer was great, too.

The locals aren’t the only ones who love Rocky and Lisa’s place. Merle Haggard was on his way in later that week. Rocky told me he’d been there five times last year and that he’d be fixing him his usual favorite: pinto beans and cornbread.

It was an interesting and unusual stop, though not for everyone, as Lisa herself agrees. But for an instant immersion in Cajun culture, I probably couldn’t have chosen a better place.

I checked out around noon. I had no idea where I was going, but I knew it was time to hit the road again.