T-BOYS | CREOLE
RIP OH MASTER OF CRAWFISH
The wheels needed a break and we stopped in a shack by the side of the road. Creole was the town. Nobody had ever heard of it. T-Boy's was entered and like a scene from a film, we knew we stuck out like sore thumbs. Three travellers, dressed in skinny jeans, all black clothes, hats, comical.
The hostess was friendly and suspicious in equal measure. We threw caution to the wind and asked what she recommended. The crawfish. Ok Maam.
What arrived was a monster of epic proportions, and despite the atmosphere being dicey, the flavours were intensely pleasing. Having just come from New Orleans where we tried a bunch of boils, this one was substantially better.
Shame to read it shut it's doors. This was the definition of a hidden gem.
