Fred’s Lounge in Mamou, Louisiana is one of those places you could spend lifetimes hunting for and never find. We only went because our friends Jon and Elisa told us to. They had gone about 10 years ago. Even after googling Fred’s, we had no idea if the show was still going on or if there would be anything happening on New Year’s weekend. A phone call fixed that.

Fred’s is a genuine old-time music hall with fantastic Cajun music, great dancers, a rocking bar, the friendliest people on the planet … all between 9:15 a.m. and 1:30 p.m. every Saturday. Or as they put it, “We’re open 52 days a year.”

We arrived about 8 in the morning when the place was empty except for the drummer who was slowly assembling his set. We picked out a front seat: an old booth bench with a solid front rail and nothing else between the naugahyde and the floor. A perfect place to spend a few hours.

Every Cajun there was a showpiece: The guy with the black duster, long ponytail, full beard, sparkly belt, shined boots, and questionable front teeth. The women wearing more than a few extra pounds sporting world-class rhinestones. The lanky guy with a bow tie and patent leather alligator dancing shoes. And man, could they dance the two-step and the Cajun waltz! By 10:30, the place was shoulder-to-shoulder and strewn with empty beer cans.

The food in the area didn’t suck either. We arrived early enough on Friday afternoon to scout out Mamou for places to eat and sleep. Strike out. Mamou may be the Cajun music capital of the world, but its only hotel is closed and we found no open restaurants. Fortunately, Eunice is only 10 miles down the road. The Best Western was clean … and by paying for one night there, we earned one upcoming free night at Best Western and another on Hotels.com. WooHoo.

When we spoke with the lady from Fred’s to be sure the music would take place, she recommended Ronnie’s Cajun Café in Eunice. Over-the-top: “screamin” Cajun chicken, frog legs, boudin balls. Man, dem Cajun’s really know how to eat and have fun!

Scotty, a quiet guy at the bar in a whopper black hat, told me two things. 1) Cajuns are the friendliest people on Earth.  2) We should go to T. Boys after the show to get us some real Cajun boudin sausage … the best in the area. He was right on both counts … even if his directions led us a few miles astray. We finally got there thanks to an old toothless Cajun on his lunch break from his crawfish shop who said, “Just follow me.”

T. Boys is a slaughterhouse/retail store in the middle of nowhere, about 3 or 4 miles from very little else. It was packed. For lunch, we split a boudin ball and a sack of cut-up pieces of boudin. For supper, we bought a package of crawfish boudin and straight pork boudin that we grilled at Pat and Julie’s house in Houston. What a meal!

Thanks Jon and Elisa and Pat and Julie. Louisiana and our first stop in Texas were everything we’d hoped they might be. Patrick (a transplanted Bostonian) put the experience perfectly as he left for the Gulf early on Sunday morning: “Thanks for coming,” he said. “No, we’re the ones who thank you,” I said. “Nope,” he said, “Anything for a good pahty!”

Laissez Les Bon Temps Rouler!

(And in case you are wondering, with this entry, the blog has indeed lost its chronological order. There’s just too much to write about our few days in New Orleans. It’ll happen, but Fred’s was too important to let it wait!)