Lafayette/Breaux Bridge/Atchafalya Basin/Grand Coteau

Sno-cone. Colors may not be 100 percent natural.
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Today the plan was to head to Breaux Bridge along Bayou Teche (a 125 mile long waterway that snakes so much one seems to cross it every few miles no matter where you go) for breakfast at Cafe des Amis but that was derailed when we found out they only serve lunch on weekdays, so it was back to the Hub City Diner. If Lula Mae represented the dining experience yesterday then the name of today's waitress- Kate- represented today's dining experience. To the point and not much more. Still, I was able to get grits and a biscuit with my eggs.

Breaux Bridge bridge
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After a quick detour to Best Buy to get the new Verve CD we were on our way to Breaux Bridge about 15 miles away. It's considered the crawfish capital of the world and hosts an annual Crawfish Festival in May. Firman Breaux built a bridge across the bayou in 1799 so it was always referred to as Breaux's bridge. When the town was officially founded 30 years later they called it Breaux Bridge. Today there are many B&Bs along the bayou and a lot of antique stores in the small downtown. We stopped in a charming coffee house for some iced coffee and a piece of hummingbird cake- like banana bread but with pecans and pineapple and a bit lighter. I walked into the room next door and oops, ended up buying (after running to the next block to hit the atm - this coffee shop gallery is cash only!) a beautiful folk art painting with glass and a heavy wood frame that I now need to figure out how to ship home.

old cigarette machine in Breaux Bridge
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Next stop was going to be the Atchafalaya Basin - 800,000 acres of swamp land but the road around it was below the levees surrounding it so we could never get more than a glance at it and then only by driving to the top and looking down for a quick look before going back to the main road. We saw much more of it Sunday night in the rain storm while driving on I-10. Bummer. The one highlight was crashing a semi-gated community where all the homes had kitschy names as if they were boats. "BBQ and drink a few" and "Dad's dream, Mom's nightmare" were two but then there were three in a row called, "Hers", "Mine", and "The Other Woman".

Atchafalya basin
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Off to Grand Coteau - it translates as big hill, but I don't think we ever got more than 5 or 10 feet above sea level the whole day so not sure how that came about. Described as the most serene place in the area- which is *really* saying something - it was just a few blocks long as far as we could tell. There was one restaurant, two or three antique stores, an upscale kitchen store, a small post office and an animal spa. It was picture postcard perfect and in fact the whole town center is on the National Register of Historic Places. Rick thought the animal spa might have some pet treats so we wandered in only to find a mixed breed Basenji puppy and 5 adorable kittens that may have been rescue kittens. The owner and her friend who worked for the rescue league were very friendly and gave us the hard sell to take home the 5 kittens. We started home but just *had* to stop at the drive thru daiquiri/sno-cone stand. I really wanted to get a strawberry daiquiri just to say I got one at a drive thru, but settled for a raspberry blueberry sno-cone. Rick had a pineapple one but found it inedible. He should've had the "apple pie a la mo" one.

Hubig's pie
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Dinner was at Pimon Thai a few miles down the road. Food was fine, but the most notable thing was that we had a caucasian waiter. A Thai restaurant first I think. Dessert was back in the room - a Hubig's pie found in Breaux Bridge. Looking like a smaller Hostess Fruit Pie, they are a New Orlean's specialty - still made right in the city since 1922 with no preservatives so they are only sold in southern Louisiana and are only good for 5-10 days before they go bad. I got a lemon one, Rick had a pineapple one (much better than the sno-cone!) but they also make chocolate and sweet potato ones as well. One more thing along with beignets, Zapp's potato chips that make the city so special and unique:

Churches are like hair salons; neither can pass up a bad pun.
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http://www.nytimes.com/2006/01/10/national/nationalspecial/10pie.html?ex=1294549200&en=cb43d303dfefdcc2&ei=5090&partner=rssuserland&emc=rss