From Azaleas to Zydeco: My 4,600-Mile Journey through the South

On to Opelousas

On to Opelousas Taking the Acadiana Trail due west from Baton Rouge, the next stop is Opelousas (pronounced “OPP a luses”). Opelousas is the capital of the Cajun Prairie and self-proclaimed world zydeco capital. Arriving at the city center of Opelousas late Friday afternoon, I asked the nice ladies at the tourist information center if there would be “any zydeco dancing around here this evening.” They laughed and gave me a simple sheet of paper listing local events. I took the paper and quickly scanned it. Having done my homework, I asked specifically about Richard’s (pronounced “Reechard’s) in nearby Lawtell. The tourist information ladies told me the club had changed its name to the Zydeco Hall of Fame—a little pretentious, I thought. I also asked about Fred’s in Mamou and Opelousas’ own Slim’s Y-Ki-Ki Club. Surprisingly, the ladies were unsure if any of them would be open. They told me that Chris Ardoin had played the week before. I considered their responses a little strange. I’m sure Chris Ardoin was good and all, but it was Friday and I assumed all nightclubs would be open on Friday night, especially in fun-loving Cajun land. If they weren’t going to be open, I wondered how they could expect me to—as they say in the local vernacular—“pass a good time.” I set out with the directions to Slim’s Y-Ki-Ki Club, which was indeed closed. I then headed toward the Zydeco Hall of Fame, figuring surely it would be open. Strike two. So it was on to Mamou, a small town of 3,500, 272 to search for the famous Fred’s Lounge. Fred’s was mentioned prominently in a 1990 National Geographic magazine article. Later, Peter Jennings, Charles Kuralt, and all three major television networks visited and did stories about Fred’s. It is even listed as an “American must see” in a French tourist brochure. I found only an empty parking lot in front of Fred’s, which was closed. So I headed back toward Opelousas. This is rice country and looks a lot like the area around Stuttgart, Arkansas. I noticed that lots of rice fields were flooded, which I thought curious since it was winter. Re-entering the outskirts of the little town of Eunice, I saw a sign announcing that Zaunbrecher’s Boiling Hut would be open from five to eight. Next to the hut, I saw six or so men doing something under a tent. There were no cars in the parking lot, just a few pickup trucks. I wheeled into a parking space by the little building. As I got out of my car, I was greeted by a young man with a beer in his hand. I told him I was passing through and wondered what they were doing. He explained to me through his thick accent that they were “bawling” (boiling) crawfish, also known as mudbugs, to sell later that evening. Happenin’s in Opelousas 273 He said crawfish season started around Super Bowl weekend and would continue through early May when the water in the fields became so warm that the crawfish would no longer be desirable. He explained that within the hour cars would line up to the highway to buy complete meals: bags of boiled crawfish, ears of corn, and potatoes. The price this week was $3.99 a pound for the boiled crawfish; the corn and potatoes are thrown in for free. $3.99 is the early season price, he told me. It would drop as the season progressed and might end as low as $.79 a pound. My guide’s name was John Zaunbrecher Jr., a student at McNeese State University in Lake Charles. His family farms rice and soybeans in the area. In the winter, they flood their fields to raise crawfish, as many other local farmers do. It was these flooded fields that I had noticed earlier. John returns home on weekends to help his older cousin, Byron, with the “bawling.” To explain the process to me, John first needed another beer. Crawfish field near Opelousas 274 Every Friday and Saturday, the Zaunbrechers harvest crawfish from the flooded fields and bring them directly to the boiling hut. Once they arrive, the crawfish—which look like small lobsters and have pinchers that can draw blood—are readied for the boiling pot...