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Every
now and then, my wife encourages me-REALLY encourages me- to put on
pants, get out of the house and go hang out with friends for some
"boy" time. After all, I serve as the sole representative of semi-masculinity
in a family that includes my wife, three teen daughters, and various
female pets who still haven't forgiven me for having them fixed-the
pets, I mean.
Recently, I took my wife's advice when three of my buddies invited
me to accompany them on a road trip to a legendary catfish joint called
Big Pines Lodge, just outside Uncertain,
Texas. Yes, that's a real town in deep East Texas on the shores
of Caddo Lake-an ancient
body of water known for cypress trees swathed in Spanish moss, a healthy
population of alligators, and curious city folks anxious to test the
capacity of their innards with all-you-can-eat fried catfish.
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I had visited
Big Pines Lodge numerous times in the past, even before a devastating
fire destroyed the original building and its contents, including the
vintage frying grease that was rumored to have been used since the
Mesozoic era. In its earlier incarnation, Big Pines was part catfish
joint and part tackle, gun and ammo shop, so just walking in the door
helped an alpha nerd like me earn some Chuck Norris man points. In
fact, on one visit, I was feeling so machofied that I wolfed down
14 whole fried catfish. (After my first seven, my wife made me sit
at a different table.)
This time, though, I knew I wouldn't be able to top my all-time endurance
record. That was the inspired achievement of a young man in his prime,
and no amount of Pepto-Bismol could rescue my middle-aged digestive
system from that magnitude of delicious industrial trans-fats.
Despite the nipple-chafing afternoon breeze, we couldn't resist opting
for the open-air seating on the patio overlooking the bayou. Our server
was friendly and attentive, and I'm pretty sure she could've taken
all four of us in the UFC Octagon. She got us in the mood by bringing
out Big Pines' famous coleslaw, relish tray, and scrumptious homemade
hushpuppies that appear to have been squeezed into the fryer from
an icing bag-and look like they were left behind by an well-fed German
shepherd.
For our second course of deep fried delights, we chose an appetizer
of crispy alligator fillets. Some people say alligator tastes like
chicken, and I agree-if the chicken was recently devoured by a large
swamp-dwelling reptile. (I only had to eat five or six to decide whether
I really liked them.)
The main course was a plate of fried whole catfish-the only way to
eat them, in my carnivorous opinion. Holding the whole fish and gnawing
the flesh directly from the bone takes a man back to his primitive
predatory past. (If only they had ketchup and Diet Dr. Pepper back
then.) |
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As we wedged
ourselves back into our seatbelts amid a medley of bodily noises and
drove down the narrow tar roads away from the bayou and Big Pines
Lodge, I couldn't help reflecting on my childhood. When I was a boy,
my dad would take me to Caddo
Lake in the spring to rescue hatchling red-eared slider turtles
trying to cross the treacherous lake roads to get to the water. I
always kept a few as pets and released the rest to torment fishermen
and feed the great blue herons tiptoeing among the water lilies. I
don't think I could bring myself to eat a turtle-unless I was starving
or on a diet-but I do wonder what they would taste like deep fried
with a side of hushpuppies.
If you ever find yourself in East
Texas, I encourage you to take your own road trip to Caddo
Lake. It's like entering another world-a world of beautiful wetlands,
friendly people, and amazing wildlife-some of which is pretty tasty
with ketchup. |
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