Saturday at noon, my wife, her mother, and I went to a place called Manuel's Cajun Country Store. Not in New Orleans, but in Milton, Tennessee. (Look that up in your Rand-McNally!)
I soon discovered that I don't like Cajon food. I'm not even sure I spelled it right. But I liked Manuel's. It isn't so much a store as a restaurant, but it's in a building that was old when I was in college. In those days, it was a 14 karet general store complete with RC Cola and Moon Pies. When you go inside you are hit with walls of pictures of the famous and infamous. I saw everyone from Mona Lisa to Hank Williams. There is a collection of musical instruments, alligator heads, and stuff. Lots of stuff. You eat at long narrow tables that seat about a dozen people. Sometimes on Fridays (I think) they have a country band playing on the front porch. The crowd sorta blocks the street, and some of them come in to eat frog legs, crawdads, shrimp, rice, beans and alligator tails.
It's interesting, but far from the norm in Tennessee. I doubt if Louisiana is like that anymore. Like Yogi said, "Don't miss it if you can."
Howard