O louisiana

Your roads are so bad, your coffee is so good, your biscuits so full of butter, your people so tender. O louisiana! I can't even believe how much better your boudin balls are. Holy crap, they're good.

Boudin study part the 1st

Dear bloggerie,
Today bore witness to the very first boudin ball of our boudin b-Monday. A boudin ball is a belectable fried bit of fat, more specifically rice, pork, and fat, deep fried in the shape of a ping pong ball, or bigger. James has it on good authority that there is a line, a demarcation somewhere between here and baton rouge, where boudin becomes barfy. We two intrepid eaters are bhot on the trail for answers as to where, and more seriously, why. Is it the addition of liver? Perhaps simply unspecified offal? Maybe it's the blood of she-goats.

Today was our first boudin sighting. Hence, this marks the westernmost point on the historic boudin trail.

Todays boudin was not good, but no one threw up. It came from a gas station outside cleveland, tx, where we were treated to the sounds of square dancing on the 2nd floor. These balls were big. We shared one, and ate with forks. Drier than a bayou, it was.  But no liver, as far as we know.

Conroe to moss landing. 40.0 long miles.