All language subtitles for Anthony Bourdain Parts Unknown S11E07 Cajun Mardi Gras (1080p x265 10bit Joy)

The thundering hooves
of many horses,

the sound of a thousand
beer cans popping open...

Ah!

And music... always music.

♪

Be afraid.
Be very afraid.

No, really.

Whoo!

Mardi Gras!

It's the Mardi Gras!

♪ I took a walk
through this ♪

♪ Beautiful world

♪ Felt the cool rain
on my shoulder ♪

♪ Found something good
in this ♪

♪ Beautiful world

♪ I felt the rain
getting colder ♪

- ♪ La, la
- ♪ Sha la, la, la, la

♪ Sha la, la, la, la

- ♪ Sha la, la, la
- ♪ Sha la, la, la, la

♪ Sha la, la, la, la, la

♪

There are parts of America
that are special,

unique, unlike anywhere else,

cultures all their own...

Kept close, much loved,
but largely misunderstood.

The vast patchwork
of saltwater marshes,

bayous, and prairie land
that make up Cajun Country

is one of those places.

While the rest of the USA

got stitched together
by superhighways,

southwestern Louisiana remained

relatively isolated.

I-10 wasn't completed
until the 1970s,

finally connecting
this part of the state

to New Orleans, Houston,
and the rest of the nation.

With that came
chain restaurants,

drive-throughs,
and strip malls, but fear not.

It's still magnificently weird.

Take, for example,
Cajun Mardi Gras.

Ordinarily, I loathe
the idea of Mardi Gras.

Any kind of group celebration,

anything festive
involving dancing

fills me with
self-conscious dread.

Thousands of happy drunks

crowded into the French Quarter,

for instance... not for me.

But Cajun Mardi Gras
is another thing entirely...

Closer to the ancient
French tradition,

vaguely more dangerous.

Downright medieval.

Cajuns do things their way...

Always have, always will.

Whether it's hanging on
to the French language

of their ancestors, their music,

traditions, or food,

Cajuns fiercely
keep it all vibrantly alive.

Boudin is a ubiquitous
sausage of Cajun Country,

and judging by the line
up at the drive through,

Billy's Boudin is
pretty damn popular.

So this is a boudin ball

stuffed with pepper jack cheese,

which I believe Billy's is
responsible for its invention.

What's not to like?
Ground-up sausage

and molted cheese,
battered and fried?

Who's gonna hate that?
No one.

In addition to boudin,

breakfast around here
wouldn't be complete

without some cracklins,
and of course, a cold beer.

My father's
first language is French.

I mean, as a kid, for him,

he was whipped at school
for speaking French.

Yeah, I mean, look,
is it fair to say that

at most points in its history,

the Cajuns have been,
if not, a despised minority...

An aggressively
marginalized minority.

Our depiction stops at
swamp scenes and alligators,

and it's so much more
than that...

Not just because of the food,
not just because of the music,

because of the way of life,
you know?

Especially Acadiana...
This is the most European

part of America, in my opinion.

So we're gonna
eat well this week?

Yeah, a lot of good food,
a lot of house parties.

- Excited about Mardi Gras?
- Mm.

My first.
Never been to one.

Here, it's a
whole different thing.

I mean,
the major difference is that,

here, you're the event.

If you're attending Mardi Gras,
if you're running Mardi Gras,

you are part of it.

Right.

Like,
it's bigger than Christmas.

Toby Rodriguez is about
as Cajun as you get.

I met him nearly a decade ago

when I came here
for a boucherie.

Back then,
Toby and everybody else said,

"You got to come back
for our Mardi Gras."

- Wanna give me a hand?
- Yeah.

"We do Mardi Gras right."

And so, here I am.

It's the week before,

and there's
anticipation in the air.

All over Acadiana,
scenes like this unfold.

Out in the yard
with friends and family,

kids playing, music, dancing,

beer, good Catholic whiskey,

gumbo cooking in a big pot.

♪

Mardi Gras!

Welcome back.
How you doing?

Really good.
Good to see you both again.

- Good to see you too.
- Thanks.

You might call the
Savoy family Cajun royalty.

I know them from my last visit,

and it's good to see them again.

Marc Savoy was
born and raised here

in the small prairie town
of Eunice.

Together with his wife Ann
and sons Joel and Wilson,

they make up the
Savoy family band.

They've all been playing music
since they were children,

and share a devotion...
Dedication...

To Cajun culture.

So how far does
the family go back here?

Marc, here's the question.

How far does your family
go back here?

Well, I think back
to the American Revolution

because the land that we live on

was ceded to
one of our ancestors,

and part of that land
is still in our family today.

How the French-Acadian
pioneers got here

and ended up becoming Cajun
is a long story.

Forcibly deported
by the Protestant British

from their homeland
in Nova Scotia,

the Acadians became refugees,

eventually settling deep
in the mosquito-infested

swamps and flatlands
of Louisiana...

A place nobody else
wanted at the time.

Over the years,
the settlers absorbed,

to varying degrees,
other cultures...

Irish, Spanish, German,
Native American,

and West African, among others,

mutating into a distinctive
culture unlike any other.

So how long has the
family been playing music?

Well,
my grandfather was a fiddler,

but I don't know...
I don't know more than that.

- I have that fiddle.
- Yeah.

Your grandfather's fiddle,
and your uncle's fiddle.

Yeah,
which was your great uncle.

Living in the same case
here in the house.

So what are you guys
doing for Mardi Gras?

- Running.
- Running.

- You ready?
- Uh, I believe I am.

- What are you doing?
- He's accounting.

- What are you doing?
- I'm running Mardi Gras.

- What are you doing?
- I'm running Mardi Gras,

right here.

But, you know, in the old days,

it was just people walking.

It wasn't... it's become insane.

It's become insane,
more and more insane.

And every year,
somebody dies in Eunice.

Every single year, there's
one death at the Mardi Gras.

Every year.
But, you know,

you gotta stay away
from the horse's feet.

You know,
like a lot of horse injuries.

Like, their horses...
Right.

Some horses will kick you
in the head or something.

Oh, okay.

I mean, there's a lot
of really good reasons

that you're doing
all these things.

I mean, it's the end of winter,

people are out of food...

- And it's right before Lent.
- It's the last year.

Yeah, this is the last...

You gotta stop everything
for a good while.

Let's just misbehave
before Lent.

And then the next day,
they go to church

and get a X on their forehead.

So you go in,
you got a black eye,

your shoulder's out of its
socket, and you get the...

You get the cross at church.

At the bayou church,
praying, getting the ashes.

"I'm sorry for everything
I did." "Okay."

"Sorry for everything
I did yesterday."

♪

"Fais do-do,"

translated means, "go to sleep,"

something a mother would say
to a crying baby.

This soothing phrase became,
over time,

something else entirely.

- What the hell?
- Finish that.

- I gotta drive.
- Mardi Gras.

Mardi...

Apparently mom was just
lulling junior to sleep

so she could go party.

A warm up for Mardi Gras,

or simply a continuation
of what seems like

an endless pre-game
of drinking, eating,

music, dancing, and celebration.

♪

Toby, a contractor and
butcher and restaurateur

jack of all trades, is the
host of this epic fais do-do.

And he's invited 170 or so
of his closest friends...

Hey!

♪

Everybody cooks.

Men, women... even kids
appear to have a specialty.

Weather be damned.

We came to party,
and party we shall.

♪

Ho!

Food has always tied
communities here together.

Cajuns trace the roots
of their culture and cuisine

to a particularly brutal
diaspora followed by

a steep learning curve
as they adapted

to the harsh environment
of rural Louisiana.

Their culinary traditions

are a direct reflection
of those days.

Ho-ho.

Mardi Gras, everybody!

This is Saturday, right?

So we are prepping
for Mardi Gras.

So these people have
been drunk for how long?

- About a week, yeah.
- Uh-huh.

Uh, so what part of...
Where am I?

Man, you're in the middle
of Grand Coteau, Louisiana.

Right, like,
this is not the bayou.

This is the prairie.
Oh, you're in the prairie.

That's what the
Grand Coteau is...

Big hill.
Right.

So, that's like,
right now, where we're at...

You're actually at one of the
highest points in Louisiana,

if you can believe that.

It's kinda scary, right?
Yeah, 8 feet elevation.

Yeah, like, if you take
a Cajun to the mountains,

they might get a little woozy.

No party around here
would be complete

without a crawfish boil.

All right,
we fire up the reactor.

Oh, yeah.

- I hope you're ready.
- I'm ready.

I like this... this thing.

Oh, man,
this is my baby right here.

Now, what's the appropriate
term for a crawfish?

Is it crawfish?
Crawdad? Mudbug?

We don't... don't say crawdads.

Here, down here, it's crawfish.

All right.
No other term is acceptable?

I mean, you can call them
little mudbugs if you want,

but we like to just
call them by what they are...

Crawfish.

Okay, so écrevisse
would not be a...

Yeah, écrevisse, yeah,
that's French for crawfish.

Oh, right.
That'll work too?

Yeah, that's good.
Yeah.

Oh, yeah.

Hoo, that's good.

Go for it, man.

And the kids don't need
much convincing.

Oh, they love them,
that's because it's the

first crawfish
of the season for us.

Aww, man, that's pretty.

What is with that
super dark sauce, man?

Yeah, it's, like,
parsnips and celery roots.

Ah, okay.
I get it.

Aw, that's delicious.

What are these guys doing
out there standing in the rain?

And this sounds like
a good idea when drinking...

A rousing game of Stump,
or stumping nails.

Throw a hammer in the air
and drive it down hard,

hopefully onto a nail
rather than a hand

or other extremity,
preferably in the rain.

How dumb do you feel
if you end up at a hospital

with that thing sunk
into your, like, cheek?

- No, that's a...
- Only twice.

Has this happened?
"Only twice?"

Okay, good.

So, like... I like my odds.

Swing it down.

- Yes.
- There you go.

- You got a spark.
- Got a spark.

First shot, first killing.

As night falls,
it's time for more food.

Hot pot.
Hot pot.

I sit down with
Toby and his friends,

Lucius, Megan, and Joleen.

That's catfish coubion.
Rice first, Tony.

Perfect rice.

That's a shrimp stew down there?

- That's shrimp stew.
- What are those?

Those hard-boiled egg?
Yeah.

I gotta ask though,
before I forget.

Now, Mardi Gras's
coming up Tuesday.

- Yeah.
- Yes.

Now, I mean, I've sorta
noticed it's a guy thing.

Most runs, we cannot run...
Women cannot run.

It is very much a boys club.
It always has been.

Do you support this
brutal, fascist regime?

Oh, no, the run that
I Capitan is co-ed.

But that's the exception,
not the rule.

- It is the exception... huge.
- Yeah.

We had a female
the other day go,

"I'm gonna run Mamou."
And I'm like, "No, you're not.

Don't do it.
They don't accept it."

So what'd happen
if you would've showed up?

You get chased off.

- Chased off?
- Yeah.

They're segregated
as far as the sexes,

but there are
two different runs.

Yeah, but that's like
Saudi Arabia, dude.

I know.

Yeah, no,
it's backwards here, I mean...

It's very backwards, like,

women don't have a place
in a run of Mardi Gras.

Now, we need y'all
to come in a little bit

'cause we're kinda getting cold.

And we need y'alls warmth
up in this mud right here.

♪

♪

♪ Well, take them down,
come on ♪

♪

♪

♪

Ash Wednesday, man.

That's the beginning of Lent.

Try to get all the devil out.

And I, you know, I drink
a little whiskey every night.

So you're buzzing fly high,

but you gotta
come down to drink.

What is Creole and what is Cajun

are increasingly
difficult distinctions

in this day of commercialization

and appropriation.

Anything delicious and unique

is gonna end up slapped on a bag

in front of the words,
"potato chips."

Creole means...
Or has come to mean...

A mixture of languages,
peoples, and cultures.

In Louisiana, though,
it's usually used

to describe members
of the African-American

or mixed race
French-speaking community.

Why do you think
it's important that

people still sing
in French and...

To me...

Keep that language...
That dialect... alive?

That's what makes it Zydeco.

Zydeco's always been influenced
by mainstream music,

but it started as French music,
as Creole music.

And you totally remove that
from the music...

A lot of times it's just
rap with an accordion,

or rock and roll
with an accordion.

You still have the
French-y stuff.

I tell you what.

I can call mama... she's 85...
Right now on the phone.

And she talk... one time
talked to me in French.

My grandma couldn't speak
nothing else.

Right.

I'm having lunch today with
historian and radio DJ,

Herman Fuselier.

Creole cowboy Dave Laemmle,

and musically-inclined
business owner,

Sid Williams.

This spot is
Laura's plate lunch Two,

popular all the time,

but particularly busy
on Sundays after church.

Rice and gravy,
fried fish, ribs,

and smothered,
stuffed turkey wings,

which I am all over
like a heat-seeking missile.

Damn.
That looks serious.

Mm-hmm.

When you say Louisiana,
they think of Cajun.

Cajun is a big part
of Louisiana,

but Creole is a big part
of Louisiana too, you know.

Used to be native to Louisiana.

Yeah.

That was the original
meaning, as I had said.

It still has
hundreds of definitions.

But for us,
it's descendants of slaves

and free people of color,

and it deals with the food and
the music.

And the Catholic church
is a big part of it too.

But yeah, trail rides
and horseback riding

is just a way of Louisiana now.

You know, it's been going on
for so long and...

Music was always part of it,

but the music
got to be more of it,

and then slowly but surely
became a party where,

you know,
kinda this social scene.

It's a lot of pieces
coming together.

You got food, horses, and music.

♪

Trail rides go back a long way.

They happen all year,
but are also the way

Creoles celebrate
Mardi Gras around here...

Kind of a moving
tailgate party and barbecue.

Interestingly...

And I almost wanna dig up John
Wayne just to tell him this...

Creoles are wildly believed to
be the first American cowboys,

herding cattle in the plains
and bayous of Louisiana

long before white dudes
and assless chaps

started showing up in the west.

In fact, Zydeco music was
born out of cowboy culture...

The rhythm of the washboard
mimicking the trot

of a horse on the trail.

♪

We don't wanna lose our
culture... what we have here...

Because this is a true thing
that goes on every weekend,

and I think the world
need to see it, you know?

Yeah, we are Creole
black guys riding horses,

wearing cowboy hats,
dancing to Zydeco music...

- Playing accordions.
- And playing the accordion.

At one time,
maybe it wasn't cool,

but now, if you being country,

and trail riding,
and listening to Zydeco music,

you cool.

♪

♪

You see a pig...

If you see a pig,
shoot that motherfucker.

♪

Hunting in Louisiana marshland

has been a way of life
for the Acadians

since they first arrived here
hundreds of years ago.

Back then, however, they
didn't have these things:

a big fan
and a whole lot of horsepower.

Also didn't have an
infestation of wild pigs,

an evasive,
but delicious species

that are causing big problems
for the local ecosystem.

They're supposed to be all over,

like shooting fish
in a barrel, I'm told.

I'm tagging along
with the Millers.

Uncle Bruno is the
best cook in the family.

His nephew, Jay,
a stone-cold killer.

You know, there's a
technique to holding your beer.

Like, shit like this?
Look.

That's the technique.

♪

Everywhere there's a tree
hanging over like that,

that little area... it just
seems like I can sense...

But we're just not...
Just not seeing them yet.

There's definitely
problematic hogs in this area.

It's just,

they're not here at the moment,
you know?

Well, the cracks are everywhere.

They've walked here
in the past 24 hours.

- Yeah.
- So where they at?

Where?

We could try our best
to hog call.

Just, like...
Would that work?

Wanna hear the most
annoying sound in the world?

Yeah, that's it.

And yet,
despite there being millions

of invasive,
wild pigs in Louisiana,

after terracing around
the marshes for hours,

we come up empty.

No pig for you,
Yankee carpetbagger.

I know you wanna
have a family dinner

and all this romantic bullshit,

but look, let me tell you.

My grandma has the
most oppressive farts

you've ever smelled...

And the best cinnamon rolls too,

so you're in for a treat
both ways.

I'm just saying.
I'm looking forward.

Nope, we ain't get...
We didn't see nothing.

No pigs.
It happens.

I guess that's why they
call it fishing and hunting

instead of killing
and catching, you know?

Yep.

Let's, uh,

continue on with the beer
drinking and perverted jokes.

You know?
Indeed.

That's what we came here for.

♪

There are consolations, however,

for our mighty hunters.

Back at the Miller home,

Grandma Jackie prepares
fresh-baked bread...

While Uncle Bruno cooks up

some traditional
family specialties...

Shrimp and okra, sweet potatoes,

rice, of course, and...

Pot-au-pois...

Heirloom peas from
Grandpa Larry's garden.

All in all, things
worked out okay in the end.

Bless us, O Lord,
and these, thy gifts,

which we are about to receive
from Thy bounty.

Through Christ, our Lord.
Amen.

And,

good food, good meat.
Great God, let's eat.

God damn it, let's eat!

You gotta pray
before you cuss, so...

As one does.

It's the order before you do it.

Tony.
We always start with rice.

- I'ma get some wine for...
- Yeah? Let's start with some...

Jay's gonna pour some wine.

Aww, it's beautiful.

So everybody
excited about tomorrow?

The big day?
Yeah, oh yeah.

And then how many days
to recover?

Well, we have
the whole Lent to recover.

- Yeah.
- Right.

- There you go.
- Thank you.

The music and the food are
part of what makes us Cajun.

And the Mardi Gras
is a very important part

of who we are as a people.

So we keeping
those traditions going.

We're in the fifth...
Starting the fifth generation

of my family running Mardi Gras.

How far back
does the tradition go,

and where did it all start?

Back in the 16th century,

and it wasn't called
Mardi Gras then.

But it was because our ancestors

who were not invited
to the king's party

'cause he invited only
the wealthy people

and the church hierarchy.

So our people would do
a street party of their own.

So what started out as
a genuine need for food...

And a way to get it.
That's true.

One day a year that
you could get it,

and as I understand it,

it was kinda license
to mock the people you were...

Who were leaving you
out of the party.

That's where the tall,
conical hats come from...

In mockery of the Queen.

They were proud people and
they wanted to be recognized.

That's why they
disguised their face,

and not to feel like
they were taking charity.

- Mm-hmm.
- So they put on a performance.

- You got a little...
- Here you go.

So at each home that we stop at,

there's, like,
a little party that goes on.

Right,
so they knew you were coming,

and you knew you were expected.
It's already prearranged.

Like, they know we're coming,
they have a chicken,

and they cook something and...

So if I knew you were coming,

what would the
appropriate preparations be?

I should have some food on hand?

You could throw money,

you could donate
a couple chickens

that they could chase and grab.

Right.

Basically just
board up the windows,

and make like there's
a hurricane coming.

Open up the barn,

put everything in the barn,
lock the barn.

Mm-hmm.

I'm talking about
down to a shovel.

If a Mardi Gras finds a shovel

just leaning up against
the back of the house,

they're gonna grab it,
dig a hole,

and bury another Mardi Gras.

- Or me.
- I know.

I will be taking part in
the Mardi Gras run this year,

and one does not interject
one's self among hundreds

of drunk Cajuns
without proper attire.

Fortunately, Grandma Jackie is
one of the premier couturiers

of such specialty garb
in these parts.

How many masks and outfits
do you do a year?

Masks...
I guess I made about 50.

I usually have 50 or 60 a year.

So you're working on those
all year long?

Um, well, yes.

Jackie has created
a signature nose

that's unique to her...
Basically, yeah.

- That she's known for.
- Ah.

A lot of people just say,
"I want a suit."

Or if I have one, they say,
"Ooh, I like this.

I like this one."
Right.

Now, if they
come to me and they say,

"I want the Saints," or, "LSU,"

I say, "No, I make traditional",

Tee Mamou
Mardi Gras costumes."

I don't make one that
looks like Santa Claus

or anything like him.

They have to be traditional,
or I don't make them.

Here it is.

Oh, yeah.

- It's amazing.
- There you go, Tony.

- So thrilled.
- Oh, yeah.

- Oh, it's fearsome.
- How'd you like to model it?

That's great.

- Let me just try it on.
- There you go.

Uh-huh.
Oh, yeah.

- Yeah.
- All right.

It's all you.

Give me a chicken.

"Give me a chicken."

- Just look at the back.
- Oh, man, it looks great.

Oh, yes.

I'm gonna wear this around
the house after Mardi Gras.

Thank you so much.

Thank you.
It's yours.

Hey, I've seen
a lot of different people

turn into a lot of different
things Mardi Gras day.

That's right. That's right.

Some of them ain't
come back from it either.

You're like
the voice of doom, man...

♪

Traditional costumes
and revelry,

the contrasting streak
of bright color

set against the wet,
gray landscape of late winter.

♪

This is Grand Mamou, Louisiana,

early morning of
the last day before Lent.

And in Cajun Country,

that means it's time
to run Mardi Gras.

Men on horseback,

men on foot,
in search of chickens,

presumably, for the
evening's ritual gumbo.

House to house they will go,

bringing mirth,
mockery, and mayhem.

Cajun Mardi Gras traces its
roots back to medieval France

when this was
the one day of the year

working poor
could hide their identity

and subvert the
conventions of society.

Old-fashioned costumes
modeled on satirical riffs

on the period garb
of aristocrats,

religious and political leaders

remain the garment of choice,

though there are also some

decidedly modern adaptations.

And at this point,

I feel like
I should be giving you

some sort of parental advisory

about disturbing imagery
and behaviors,

along with a caution not
to try any of this at home.

♪

Mardi Gras!

While everybody is still
on their best behavior,

the first stop at the
local retirement home,

to bring a little joy into
the lives of the old folks.

♪

Mardi Gras!

Come on!

The Capitans,
in purple and gold robes,

keep the marauders in line.

I don't know what
these guys are called,

but they are everywhere,
providing the revelers

with a steady supply
of cold beer.

Whoo!

I believe they are called...
enablers.

It's before 9:00 a.m.,
and already,

everybody is thoroughly swacked.

Since this is
my first Mardi Gras,

a rundown of the rules
would be helpful.

No eye-gouging.

No fish-hooking.
No eye-gouging.

- No picking in the nose.
- No groin shots.

- No women.
- No women.

No women, and don't
wring the chicken's neck.

Oh, that's good to know.
Right.

What happens
if you break the rules?

Nothing.

Whoa!

- Whoa, whoa, whoa!
- Whoa!

Catching chickens for
the evening community gumbo

is the name of the game.

But you don't get chickens
for free.

That's what it's all about.

You are expected to work for it,

dancing, clowning,

and providing some entertainment

before your host release
the chicken or chickens.

♪

♪

Kind of like trick-or-treating,

if your Halloween candy
moved at high speed

and all the other
trick-or-treaters were drunk

and competing for the same
peanut butter cup

like it was the last
peanut butter cup on Earth

and they didn't care
if they killed you to get it.

- Come here, chicken!
- Oh.

Damn.

Wow, grandma got that one.

♪

Whoa.
Oh, shit.

Oh.

No, man.
Those chickens...

Oh.

That takes
a level of dedication.

Wouldn't that
leave you freezing cold

with a moist nutsack
for the rest of the day?

No.

And the beer keeps on coming.

And I wonder if this is
the kind of promotion

a major brand had in mind.

I'm...
I'm gonna have nightmares

about grandma
flashing me her titties.

Hey!
Mardi Gras!

Does this mask
cause derangement?

Like, if you keep
looking through the mask...

Like I feel like...
Like I got a brain tumor.

Mardi Gras, who does your hair?

Who does your hair?
It's so nice.

Hey!

In feudal Europe, I guess
you'd describe what follows

as a state of religious ecstasy,

but it's evolved
into something else entirely.

There's definitely
a "Purge" vibe... right?

♪

The Mamou Mardi Gras!

I need a nurse next season.

- Oh, yeah.
- Please look into that.

I believe this might be
a prudent time

to employ a stunt double,

for purposes of
amusement, comedy,

and of course, personal safety.

Oh.

♪

Finally,
the mighty warriors return,

triumphant, to a proud,

if safely boarded-up town
of Mamou,

by this time,
well beyond the point

of noticing such things
as physical pain.

Oh!

♪

Ugh.

Gonna be hurting tomorrow.

♪

Ash Wednesday
marks the end of winter,

the beginning
of spring and Lent,

where bruised from our exertions

and our dimly remembered sins,

we might purge ourselves

of our transgressions
and impure thoughts.

Be merciful, O Lord,
for we have sinned.

Try even to make amends,
perhaps,

by getting right with Jesus

in a period of fasting
and quiet reflection...

Or something like that.

Forgive us, O Lord,
for we have sinned.

Ashes on the forehead,

ask for forgiveness for all your

chicken-related foolishness
of the previous day,

then 40 days of meatless meals

and no sin.

I got stuff to do,

so I'm hitting the drive-through

for a more expedited service.

It's like the express line
and so convenient.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Remember you are dust,
and to dust you shall return,

but the steadfast love
of the Lord endures forever.

Amen.

Thank you.

All right.
I got right with God.

Let's eat.

Then a drive
through country roads

all the way out to near
Kaplan to Suire's Grocery,

one of the more awesome
locations I've ever found,

the kind of breakfast spot
I just love deeply,

menu right there on the wall
as you walk in

so you know what you're getting.

Hi.
How you doing?

Oh, real good now.
How you guys doing today?

I think, uh, oyster po'boy,

but you have
crawfish étouffée as well, yes?

- Crawfish étouffée.
- Yeah, I gotta do that.

And you do pecan pie by the
slice as well for dessert?

- Yes, sir.
- Oh, yeah, okay.

I'll be having
some of that later.

Man, how come my grocery store
doesn't have this?

Oh, man, eat your heart out.

Got everything I need here.

God damn it.

Feeling pretty good
about the world considering.

Minimal hangover,

minimal, uh,
Mardi Gras-related damage.

A few bruises.

At my age, I should be happy
I didn't break my hip.

Ah, thank you.
The pecan pie.

- How'd you like it?
- Oh, so good.

Really, really good.
Thank you.

Love this place.

On balance,
my Cajun Mardi Gras experience

was certainly... memorable,
if nothing else.

And through the parting clouds
of cruel winter,

there is light and hope
in the onset of spring.

♪