Fried "Okrey"

A lot of people think that Louisiana is a "back woods" state. Those people have no clue. I grew up in North Louisiana and it is very different than the southern part of the state. I am a proud "YCA". In fact, it is different in many ways. In 1958 my dad was promoted to a different job. He was a right of way representative. His job required that he travel and stay in areas (mostly South Louisiana) of which new natural gas pipelines were going to be built. As a result he would leave my mother brother and me on Sunday afternoons and return on Friday evenings Depending where he was assigned, he would drive or we would drop him and pick him up at the airport in Shreveport, La. We would join Daddy in the summer months but other than that, my mother, brother and I went to live with my mother's mother, Maw Maw Boone (pronounced Mao Maul Boone) in the "country". Her house was located about 3 miles down on a gravel road (Haire Loop) that was accessible only after driving down a narrow 22 mile asphalt road. It was the house that my mother was actually born in. It was an amazing place to live. We were on 198 acres of rolling hills, part of Dolet Hills (pronounced dole lay heels) full of lop lolly pines and hardwood. Our nearest neighbors, the Haires, were over 2 miles away. My aunt Mable and Uncle Claude's house (the one that blew up) was even further away. In fact they were actually located on the banks of Stink Finger Creek and were in another parish. I was the first person the school bus driver would pick up each day and the last he dropped off. My daily ride to Pelican School was over 20 miles. In front of my Maw Maw's (Augusta Victoria Boone) house was a huge Sweet Gum tree that I used to ride for miles and miles around on my Western Flyer. The house had a wrap around porch and I spent many days swinging in the swing that was located there. On the side of the house and not too far from the kitchen was a large red bud tree that I used to climb in. I would set there for hours inside the tree and read books and daydream. My cousin Jerry (Dravis Gerald), aunt Mable's youngest would come and visit and we would play "pitch" (a side note about my cousin Jerry. The original screenplay of the movie The Competition starring Richard Dreyfuss and Amy Irving was written about him.).It was from the thousands of hours of "pitch" that I would develop my skill in baseball. Those skills (unfortunately not batting) would later give me a chance to play "college ball".

I would catch the school bus early in the morning and usually my grandmother would be up and outside shooting armadillos. It seems we had a lot them on the "place". My mother's only brother Calvin had about 40 head of cattle grazing on the property. Armadillos tended to "root" hole in the ground and the cows seemed to step in them and break their legs. That was not a good thing. So each day Maw Maw Boone would take her Sears and Roebuck single shot 22 caliber long rifle and shoot the bastards. She showed me how to shoot them and by the time I was 9 years old I was killing more than she was each morning. I was using open sites and hitting them in the head ( only way to guarantee a kill) at over 50 yards. We would set outside drinking coffee (yes I was drinking Community Coffee when I was 8) shooting varmints while waiting for my school bus. We had in door plumbing but if you wanted a shower, you could stand outside underneath the water cistern. We had a phone, a party line, and twice a year a huge "loom" would be set up in our living room so more quilts could be made. I sure wish I still had some of Maw Maw Boone's quilts. My grandmother dipped Garret Scotch Snuff. there were spit cans in every room and all of our drink ware were Garret Snuff tumblers.

Like I said I rode the bus every day for over 20 miles. the school bus driver (Mr. Gregory) was the very same one who used to pick up my mother and drive her to the very same school I was attending. Odessa was the valedictorian of her class. Then again, there were only 6 people in her class. I recall one day as we were riding home, some of the older boys (of which half of them I was somehow related) showed me how to "shoot the finger". I remembered how it really began to snow. A real blizzard (at least on Louisiana standards). One of my cousins had a small transistor radio and the song Mack the Knife was playing. To this day every time I see it snowing I think of that song.

My Uncle Calvin would come by every Wednesday night and regardless of what we were watching on TV he would come in and change the channel to "Have Gun Will Travel" . He loved the show. I think probably because the star of the show and he had the same last name.

Years later after we moved on and my grandmother no longer lived in the house year round. An arsonist set the house on fire and all of the artifacts (along with the portraits of four of my great grand parents) in the house were lost forever. Upon hearing the news of the burning of the old place I saw my mother cry harder than ever before. On a hot June afternoon in 1980 in front of what was the old home place I would see my mother's face for the last time.

Memories of that place are very vivid. I was just a young kid but jeez the food was so very good. It was mostly homegrown. The chickens had no hormones in them. Hell it was all organic well before organic was hip. Guy Clarke was right when he penned "... the only two things that money can't buy is true love and home grown tomatoes.". Hot water corn bread split in half and covered with the pot liquor of a pot of pinto beans or collard greens. Damn that is so good. But my favorite was fried okrey. (okra). My mother would have to actually have to count out how many pieces of okra there were and divide them exactly between my brother and me or there would be a fight. It is very rare that I find okra fried the way my mother and grandmother did....

So there we were on such a gorgeous Austin day. We were are at a BBQ joint but for some strange reason I ordered a large basket of fried okra. and a sampler of the beers brewed at Uncle Billy's Brew and Cue. Mrs.The Third had asked me earlier that day why we were going to so many different places. I guess she was not yet hip to the concept of pub crawls. I told her that I was hoping to fine a "jewel". Oh well, the okra was soggy and cold....but the beer ...HOLY SHIT!!!! It was so damn good. Those guys have got it going on. I begin to "bubble. Our waitress informed us she was from Silverton, Colorado. It did not take long to realize she knew something about beer. We learned she was a piano player in a local "Indie Band". I learned that the brewer had years of experience and upon reading some of the propaganda provided I gleaned that he was just short of brewer royalty. All six samples were amazing. The Stout/Porter was probably just very good but the other five were off the hook. The Pale Ale Hell In Keller was as good as anything I have every drank before. I wanted to stay longer and have a few more beers but I was determined to continue the pub crawl.
Our next stop was the Dog and Duck Pub. According to the internet, this was the place to go. I was not all that impressed. We sat outside on one of the picnic tables and gazed at the Austin skyline. I drank a (512) Pecan Porter. It is a beer brewed locally. It was good. Not great but I would surely drink more of them. From there we traveled to the Draught House. The bride and I had driven by this place before. For some reason I was intimidated and we never went inside. Unlike most of the pubs in Austin, they only opened after 3:00PM. This would be the last place we would try on this crawl. I had been disapointed earlier that the Flying Saucier did not have # 9 but I had heard rumors that the Draught House did. Well they did not have the Magic Hat brew either but they did have a large selection to choose from. I was like a kid in a candy store and I thought I should order a local brew from Live Oak, (512), or Independence. It was sort of funny. They opened the doors at 3 and we walked in and formed a line to order beer. The line extended outside the front door. When it was my turn to order I order a Drifter from Widmer. Damn it was really a good beer. Widmer makes good beer. Not a local Austin beer but a local Portland one. Either way I think I made the right choice. The Mrs. The Third was acting as the designated driver even though she did drink one beer at the Draught House. As we sat outside we talked about the first time we had driven by this pub. I told her I did not feel I had been worthy to go to such a famous beer pub. But now that I am an accomplished beer blogger and a connoisseur of beer or a beer aficionado (as my co workers call me) I felt that I was indeed worthy. Yes my ego is begging to run rampant.
After I finished my Drifter and after I realized I would not have to be driving home, I purchased one of the beers that was actually brewed there on the premises. What a treat. I did not realize they were a brew pub as well. I asked for a hoppy beer. Well they gave me one. If you look close at the pic I took you will see actual particles of hops. Well I think they could have filtered them out and that was over kill. But I admit the beer was good. Damn good. Ok, I am am coming out of the keg closet and admit I like hoppy beers.



Oh yeah for The Jim....how is this ?

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The Third