Here on Vermilion Bayou in southwestern Louisiana, elegant homes line the gently curving shore – and predictably before noon on any day, plaintive blues music begins floating with the breezes along the mud-brown river. I step out to the deck of my century-old half-beamed cottage with long leaf pine floors and absorb the rhythm of the morning. Whether from French-tiled pool houses, wrought-iron porches or terraced backyards, the sounds of Cajun and Creole music, swamp pop, blues or jazz are always in the air. Across the 22-parish “Acadiana” region, if it’s a weekend, there’s a festival somewhere, in a field, a village square or church parking lot.
These aren’t things you’d notice driving from Houston to New Orleans along Interstate 10. You might not pick up the roots-based repository of Cajun music on the radio – KBON 101.1 FM – because its signal is too weak. But when you live in a place like Lafayette, Louisiana, where I am now on a temporary assignment, it quickly becomes clear how the Cajun and Creole cultures frame daily life, starting with the French-sounding names (like Savoie and Breaux), Cajun French dialect on the radio and street names like Rue Louis XIV. There’s a lot of delta blues and roots music of all kinds in the air, too.
Working now in an editorial capacity, I learned quickly that it’s Cajun and Creole cultureS – plural – and that’s only the start of the cultural “gumbo.” I’ve been diving into regional literature – nonfiction like French, Cajun, Creole, Houma: A Primer on Francophone Louisiana by Carl A. Brasseaux (2005) in the mornings and by evening, Creole Belle, whose characters that are too real to be fictional in James Lee Burke’s Detective Dave Robicheaux’ mysteries. Much of the authoritative material comes from scholars associated with the Center for Louisiana Studies at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, in the heart of this Acadiana region, whose original settlers fled British oppression in eastern Canada in the 1700s. Today Cajuns are officially recognized as an ethnic group, and protecting this multi-layered subculture of mixed origins is a proud mission here, the story of nearly every family and community. In this geographical area, most people born here never leave.
It’s a Saturday and the public radio station KRVS 88.7 FM “Radio Acadie,” located on the university’s campus, hosts “Zydeco Est Pas Sale” in the morning with J.B. Broussard and “Dirty Rice” in the evenings. The evening before at a fundraising gala, I was thrilled to win a watercolor of “Tool of Zydeco” – one painter’s interpretation of the accordion. Incidentally, the Zydeco show is the nation’s longest running Zydeco program, an archive of indigenous lilting French country tunes, blues and rhythm and blues – blending accordions, fiddles, guitars and bass and homemade tools like rub-boards. On the next show, “Zydeco Stomp,” early Etta James began wailing “I’d Rather Go Blind, Baby, Than See You Walk Away from Me.” Shortly afterwards, ailing accordion legend and bluesman Jeffery Broussard stopped by the studio to pitch a two-day outdoor benefit with local musical giants to help with his medical fees. They riffed in Louisiana French, which has little similarity to Parisian French, but the cultural linkages were indelible. (Hot tip – stream Radio Acadie at krvs.org on Tune-In wherever you are.)
Music and food, that’s the heart of the beat here. The other day I counted 12 oysters in one $8.95 “Poor Boy” sandwich from Olde Tyme Grocery, where the usual lunchtime line trailed out the door. The next day at Zeus restaurant’s carryout on campus, the seafood plate special was piled with enough fried catfish and shrimp for two meals, with Mediterranean sides of fattoush salad and hummus, owing to the restaurant’s Greek-Lebanese menu. It’s hard to manage cholesterol or fat here and still eat “local,” but I did discover Bon Temps Grill, a rustic neighborhood eatery on the edge of town and its mesquite-grilled redfish offered with several grilled vegetable sides. I am gaining inches on my hips just writing this article! Stay tuned – it’s a fascinating journey…
Blues in the Morning in the Louisiana Bayous
