That’s Cajun French for “Lazy less bong temperatures rule!”
No. Wait. Is that right?
Anyway, if there was a saying in that Southern adopted tongue for ‘let the good times roll’ then it should apply to what local Louisiana inspired gastropub The Parish does every Fat Tuesday.
This Mardi Gras festival marks the 14th for The Parish and I was fortunate enough to be there. So were a lot of other people. Let’s go!
Sorry vegans but, yeahThe Parish’s secret crawdad boil mash pot love soakOh they linin’ up
Fat Tuesday marks the day that Catholics and some other provinces of church going secularists can party down, eat pulpit shunned crap and get hammer smashed wasted before Lent. Lent, as you may or may not know, is a 40 day (yeah, 40 days!) time for the faithful to cleanse, reflect, rest the body, mind and soul but most painful not eat rich food, red meat and drink the booze-a-fuel!
Ugh. 40 minutes for me and I’d fold like a fitted sheet on laundry day.
Honestly, does anybody know how to properly fold that four cornered shame enigma?
Fat Tuesday is also known as Shrovetide in some areas of Christianity, especially those from eastern Europe. Those pew hounds are known to eat this fried “donut” called a Fastnacht. Its basically a dense hole-less dough bomb replete with fat, sugar and butter. If that doesn’t scream party I don’t know what does.
Parish owner Bryce Zeagler dunkin’ those daddiesSeasoned and the reason for the pleasin’Parish servers do not hold back on Fat Tuesday
Well, The Parish does not serve Fastnacht for their Mardi Gras blow out, I am sorry to say, but they do serve amazing Cajun fat kid food. Look, that’s what the chefs and owners call it. Don’t hate. Every Mardi Gras, they have the day’s specials all flown in specially from Louisiana. Otherwise we’d be eating creole spiced javalina and bayou rubbed 24 hour smoke shop employee. Nobody wants that.
Crawdads? Oh mais oui! Or is it crawdaddys? Crayfish? Kind of depends on where you are from really. One thing is for sure, to secure your seat at the crawdad eating throne at the head of the table, you gotta suck them heads ‘chere. Otherwise you’re wasting the best part and letting your friends and swamp bug eating competitors that your head game is weak.
That came out wrong.
Beads of courage because beads are encouragedPretty sure my wife posed for that photo opYour new best friends…the bartenders!
The star of the show without a doubt is the slow smoked alligator. Oh yeah, you heard/read that correct. All-ee-ga-tor. Again, these bayou buddies are shipped in from the 18th state, the child of the Mississippi, then de-scaled, marinated and thrown on the smoker for hours. When the gates open at 1pm, those gators are tender as the current condition of the Saints actually winning a game.
And you know what, they taste a little like chicken. Unlike nutria. Have you had nutria? I have. Nutria tastes like nutria. Bayou beaver.
Again, that came out wrong.
Are you kidding me here?Not the best pic, but, you get the ideaOkay vegans, at least he’s smothered in vegetables and is eating a carrot
Every year The Parish’s Mardi Gras jubilee keeps getting better and better, bigger and bigger. Bands playing all day, inventive cocktails, Southern beers flowing like wine, good people, good times and the best part for me anyway is some of the best food we get to experience here in Tucson. Its always an honor and privilege to be a part of it and this year was one of the most excellent so far.
Merci to owners Steve Dunn and Bryce Zeagler for letting me skulk around before the paying customers flooded in to get photos. I’ll see you guys next year.
Well, I’ll most likely see you before then but…you know what I’m saying here.
As a big holiday guy, I am super nuts over Halloween and Christmas. Most holidays really. But Valentine’s Day, aesthetically and generally, in my opinion, sucks nards.
Most people say, at least those that oppose the time when big wet eyed pink bears donning plush hearts on their chests that say garbage like “I Wub Woo” start hitting the shelves of your local market and whatever CVS and Walgreens is, that Valentine’s Day is a made up holiday. Its not actually.
In 8th century Europe, a day to celebrate St. Valentine, February 14th, began as a feast to honor his, I don’t know, martyrdom or something. I think he healed like the daughter of his jailor, who was blind, and made her see again. Yeah Valentine was imprisoned for ministering persecuted Christians in 3rd century Rome. Look it up. That’s what I had to do.
The reason for the season, kinda
Apparently, according to Wiki, there were a bunch of Valentines, the St. Valentine’s, and through the years it looked like the faithful thought it would be cool to mark a day for his, or their, contribution to the church and such.
Through the annals of time, like an old ass game of telephone, before there were telephones, obviously, so that’d be a game of carrier pigeons or something?, Valentine’s Day, for whatever reason, became associated with love. Probably because it was more fun to paint chubby cupids and Victorian fops and wenches in what looks like the most uncomfortable dresses swooning over one another than some bearded cruster holding a staff looking bored.
Post war America became a hot den of breeding and consumerism and thus the day of celebrating St. Valentine soon crumbled into a pink dusted product queef and sales soared. Men were soon to feel quilt and angst if they didn’t get their lady a dozen roses, a heart shaped box of chocolates filled with whatever goo they had in the 50s and a big card decorated with oversized headed kids on a boat with the words “Hey sailor! You’re tuggin’ at my heart.” That crap still exists today. Only they have like Cardi B on it or whatever. I don’t know. I tend to avoid the “seasonal” aisle after New Years to about February 15.
Really?
Then it just continued to get moist and cheesy. Like I said, I love Halloween and Christmas like you wouldn’t believe. Dude, I have the Charlie Brown Christmas tree tattooed on my left leg! Easter is pretty cool, mainly because it is sooo steeped in Paganism, even more so than Christmas (look it up), and I’ve come to tolerate St. Patrick’s Day ever since I moved from San Francisco. The day after Patty’s Day, that city was reek with broken bottles, vomit, trash, bodies and sirens. Tucson is pretty chill. Mainly because I think we have like one or maybe two Irish themed bars here. And they are miles from where we live.
Cut to Glendale, California circa 1980. Yours truly was in the 4th grade and the week leading up to Valentine’s Day our assignment was to make mailboxes that we would hang on the edge of our desks so when the big day of Feb 14 rolled into town we would walk around the classroom and fill those boxes with cards or whatever. My best friend at the time, Monte (can’t think of his last name but it must have been Torres or Vasquez because we sat next to each other, in the back, like all good misfit class clowns should) were not the most popular kids in the room. Or playground. Or anywhere. We likened ourselves to reading Mad Magazine, watching Loony Tunes cartoons and cracking each other up, first during quiet study then in detention. One time there was an in class talent show, where most kids lip synced to disco songs or played the recorder. Monte and I decided to do a puppet version of Pinnochio where we made ridiculous paper bag puppets with the lead having a toothpick for a nose. Come time to perform, we were laughing so hard that kids started to boo and our teacher came and broke us up. Like I said, not the most popular.
Yup. Its what I most likely brought to class.
So Valentine’s Day arrives and I show up with a box of most likely Star Wars themed cards that were perforated and came in packs of twelve so my dad had to buy two boxes. There were some left over and I just put the coolest ones on my bedroom wall. I love you too Chewbacca.
After lunch we all got our cards filled in with From: me To: whoever and started meandering about, filling those handmade mailboxes with Valentine themed rectangles. Dutifully, I gave one to every kid, even though I was nervous about giving one to Brooke Hill, who I had a huge crush on. Yes I still remember her name. And no, I can’t find her on social media. Probably got hitched and changed her name. I don’t know. Don’t act like you haven’t done the same! Sheesh. Judge much?
When all the cards were distributed, we went back to our desks and opened our mailboxes to get the gobs of Valentine’s goodies.
Best image I could find of those mailboxes we had to make.
Most of the kids dumped theirs on their desks. Little sierras of cards, toys and candy heaped on their desks as they pealed with giddy thanks and laughter. Oh boy, I thought, this is going to be cool.
Monte and I grabbed our mailboxes that were taped with care as to hold the maximum amount of store bought fondness, opened the top, turned them upside down and shook.
I think the word ‘smattering’ could best describe what we got. ‘Scant’ maybe. More like, are you kidding? A few of those perforated edged cards stared back at us. Happy Days here, Garfield there. At one point as I held the mailbox for a few seconds longer, hoping that it was so packed with forced affection that they were stuck before avalanching on my desk, one torn square featuring the Justice League and the words “You’re Super!” on it plopped out like a comically timed bird poop on your new white shoes. All I could do was stare down at the, well, pile is a disservice to the collection of shame in front of me and go “Huh” as I scanned the room looking at the happy faces and the occasional hug because they all made out like Valentine’s bandits.
Pretty sure Monte uttered “The fxxk?” as he had the same amount of heart card diss to deal with.
My feelings exactly Monte.
That night over dinner my dad asked to see the cards I got. I showed him. Pretty sure he said “The fxxk?” My feelings exactly dad.
Ever since then Valentine’s Day has left a bad taste in my mouth, sort of like those little antacid heart candies that proclaim Hug Me and Be Mine. Nobody likes those, right? Black jellybeans and candy corn are always up for debate but those chalky dingleturds are just plain awful.
4th grade me not too stoked about Valentine’s Day.
Anyway, that’s pretty much it. That’s why I am not fond of Valentine’s Day. Sure the look and feel of the “holiday” is totally lame, like what the old man calls Ralphie in “A Christmas Story” when he’s dolled up in that bunny suit, a pink nightmare, but that one day in 4th grade really cemented a deeper disdain for the annual event. Sure I’ve been in plenty of loving relationships and am happily married to my best friend, but even then I always have to go “You’re not into the whole Valentine’s thing are you?” Because…bleh.
But I do like going into stores on the 15th to snag up some on sale candy as they make room for St. Patrick’s and Easter. Even if the store manager handed me a box of afore mentioned love day Tums and said “Here, just take ‘em” I’d be all “The fxxk?” and just walk away.
Yeah Write Mark 