Boudreaux & Thibodeaux | ||
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Chef Rameaux's School of Cooking and Louisiana Market 704 N. Person Street Raleigh, NC 27604 919-834-2510 919-834-2910 FAX
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friends, Boudreaux and Thibodeaux are a couple of Cajun good ole boys
who live down on the Bayou near Gueydon. They're always getting into one
kind of trouble or another, and their adventures have been told and
re-told for years across Cajun Country. Here are a few of their stories.
CAJUN TWELVE DAYS OF CHRISTMAS Day 1. Dear Boudreaux, Tanks for da bird in da Pear tree. I fixed it las night with dirty rice an it was fine, yeah. I doan tink da Pear tree would grow in de swamp, so I swapped it for a Satsuma. Day 2. Dear Boudreaux, Your letter said you sent 2 turtle dove, but all I got was 2 scrawny pigeon. Anyway, I mixed dem with some andouille and made some gumbo. Day 3. Dear Boudreaux, Why doan you sen me some crawfish? I'm tired of eating dem dam bird. I gave two of dose prissy French chicken to Mrs. Fontenot over at Grand Chenier, and fed the tird one to my dog, Phideaux. Mrs. Fontenot needed some sparring partners for her fighting rooster. Day 4. Dear Boudreaux, Mon Dieux! I tole you no more of dem damn birds. Deez four, what you call "calling bird" wuz so noisy you could hear dem all da' way to Lafayette. I used dey necks for my crab traps, and fed da rest of dem to da gators. Day 5. Dear Boudreaux, You finally sent something useful. I liked dem golden rings, me. I hocked dem at Comeaux's Pawn Shop in Breaux Bridge and got enough money to fix da shaft on my shrimp boat, and to buy a round for da boys at Fred's Lounge in Mamou. Merci Beaucoup! Day 6. Dear Boudreaux, Couchon! Back to da dam birds, you coonass turkey! Poor ole egg sucking Phideaux is scared to death ah dem six goose. He try to eat dey eggs and dey pecked da heck out ah his snout. Dem goose are damm good at eating cockroach around da' house, though. I may stuff one ah dem goose with erster dressing an' serve him on Christmas Day. Day 7. Dear Boudreaux, I'm gonna wring you damn fool neck next time I see you. Ole Vidrine, da mailman, is ready to kill you, too. Da crap from all dem bird is stinkin' up his mailboat. He afraid somebody gonna slip on dat stuff and sue him. I let dem seven swan loose to swim on da bayou and some drunk duck hunter from Abbeville done blasted dem out da water. Talk to you tomorrow. Day 8. Dear Boudreaux, Poor ole Vidrine had to make tree trips on his mailboat to deliver dem 8 maids-a-milking & dere cows. One of dem cows got spooked by da alligators and almost tipped over da boat. I doan like dem shiftless maids, me. I told dem to get to work gutting fish and sweeping my shack--but dey say it wasn't in dere contract. Dey probably tink dey too dam good to skin all dem nutria I caught las night. Day 9. Dear Boudreaux, What you trying to do? Vidrine had to borrow da Cameron Ferry to carry these jumping twits you call lords-a-leaping across da bayou. As soon as dey got here dey wanted a tea break and crumpets. I doan know what dat means but I says, "Well la di da. You get Chicory coffee or an' some beignets, or you get nuthin." Mon Dieux, Boudreaux, what I'm gonna feed all these bozos? Dey too snooty for fried nutria, and dem cows ate up all my turnip green. Day 10. Dear Boudreaux, You got to be out of you mind. If da mailman don't kill you, I will. Today he deliver 10 half nekkid floozies from Bourbon Street. Dey said dey wuz "ladies dancing" but dey doan act like no ladies in front of dem jumpin Limey lords. Dey almost left after one of 'em got bit by a water moccasin over by my out-house. I had to butcher 2 cows to feed toute le monde (everybody) and get some toilet paper rolls. Da Sears catalog wasn't good enough for dem hoity toity lords. Talk at you tomorrow. Day 11. Dear Boudreaux, Where Y'at? Cherio and pip pip my fren. You 11 Pipers Pipin' arrived today from da House of Blues, second-linin' when dey got off da boat. We fixed stuffed goose and duck jumbalaya, finished da whiskey, and we're having a fais-do-do. Da' new mailman drank a bottle of Jack Daniel, and he's having a good old time dancing with da floozies. Da' old mailman done jump off da Moss Bluff Bridge yesterday, screaming you name. If you happen to get a strange looking, tickin' package in da mail, doan open it. Day 12. Dear Boudreaux, Me I'm sorry to tole you dis--but I am not your true love no more. I got a little drunk at da fais-do-do, and spent da night with Jacque, da head piper. We decide to open a restaurant and gentlemen's club on Bayou LaFourche. Da floozies--pardon me--ladies dancing can make $20 for a table dance, and da lords can be waiters and valet park da John boats. Since da' maids ain't got no more cows to milk, I trained dem to set my crab traps, run my trotlines, and drive my shrimp boat. We'll probably gross a million dollars next year. Joyeux Noel and bon chance!
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