I Like Pig Butts and I Can Not Lie ... The BUTTS is written inside the outline of the back end of a pig and the letters are blaring white on a screaming red background. I wandered toward that shirt like a moth to the flame. I am with a friend in Scott, Louisiana after completing the final forty miles of a four-day bike ride through Acadiana - aka Cajun Country. The bike ride has finished at the Scott, LA Boudin Festival. We have dealt with all the post-ride bike shipping and packing chores, wolfed down our end of the ride Jambalaya and a delicious cold beer and have headed inside the festival gates. Naturally, the first stop on that 85 degree afternoon was the beer wagon. When we asked the beer guy for a recommendation of the best boudin (Pronounced boo-daan - a pig intestine casing stuffed with a mix of rice and pork and other meats and secret spice recipes) he leaned in close and said, "Well. I can't give ya'll any RECOMMENDATIONS, now. But I CAN tell you what I like ... " And he proceeded to describe the red tent and virtues of regular boudin versus smoked. So off we went to the favorited Red tent. A big cauldron of bubbling fry grease was at the front. Hot and spicy smells wafted out as we stood staring at the menu, debating the heck this food language meant. Luckily Harold, his son Harold and wife Ramona stepped in and gave us a tour of the menu and a taste of their delicious tasso (chunks of slow cooked pork in a spicy sauce). After great deliberation and consultations with Harold and Harold Jr., I choose the basic boudin, employed
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