Thursday, November 10, 2016

A Dream Day of New Orleans Eating

Dear John, my brother,

I am sorry I can't get bqck for the Wales Japan game in a fortnight.

Read this homage to the Big Easy and remember simpler days.
We break the masking tape holding our sandwiches at bay. Each one rolls out an over-stuffed glorious mess. The duck is so drenched in gravy that it has already passed the limit of its structural integrity. I gaze over at the shrimp, and I know that where I’m going, there won’t be seafood like this. This has to be a full pound of fried shrimp stuffed into twelve inches of bread. I do the math in my head and my heart sinks a little. What would it cost me to make this in the country where I’m headed?

Who says nostalgia isn't what it used to be?
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