You guys! All of my Shreveport prayers have been answered! It’s happening! It’s really happening!
On Wednesday, I was literally leaving the grocery store, when I refreshed my Facebook newsfeed and saw this article from the Shreveport Times as well as the following:
Are you at all surprised that tears of joy literally sprang from my eyes? I actually cried and became weepy, I was that happy and excited.
Then, the ultimate cherry on top of an already fabulous news week, was that Shreveport is also getting its own Blo Blow Dry Bar.
This week was proof that dreams do come true.
Great organic produce + great hair = I have died and gone to Shreveport heaven.
You might remember my excitement about the garden I planted in September. I was ecstatic and even more so when the garden thrived. I couldn’t even believe I hadn’t killed anything, and I was so, so excited about it.
And then the unforeseen happened.
A biblical invasion of fire ants turned my garden bed into a prolific ant farm.
I was beside myself, and my desperate attempts to eradicate the ants resulted in killing my hard-earned crops. I did salvage a few green onions, but still, it wasn’t the same.
I’ll try again in the spring, but it was quite a lesson (at the risk of sounding cliche) in the challenge of cultivating our own food. I’ve always been a supporter of the local, organic food movement, and if I was this upset over a few carrot tops, I can’t imagine the devastation real farmers face when an entire season – and their livelihood – is lost in an instant.
You know your city has reached the pinnacle of urbanization when a Dunkin’ Donuts rolls into town. After all, this is what America runs on.
I’m not much of a coffee drinker, but I will go out on a limb here and say that the DD Hazlenut coffee (iced or hot) can’t be beat.
But really, my main interest in Bossier City’s newest vendor has to do with the munchkins.
I only like the chocolate ones and we are slightly embarrassed to admit that this box of 25 didn’t last a full 24 hours in our house.
I’m practically vegetarian. I also hate pies (all kinds). Yet, somehow the combination of the two is fabulous, and I had the pleasure of trying it this weekend.
We took a day trip to Natchitoches this weekend for lunch and some shopping.
We ate lunch at The Landing, a quaint restaurant along Front Street with eclectic menu offerings such as alligator, catfish, rabbit hushpuppies, and a local favorite, meat pies.
Since Natchitoches is known for its meat pies, I silenced all of my internal protests against such a creation and resolved to try them.
They were Ah-maz-ing. Like really, really good. The best description I can give them is to liken them to baby calzones filled with spices and meat.
I cannot believe I let two years pass without trying this Louisiana staple.
This is probably the one time you’ll ever hear me say I’ve been missing out when speaking about a deep-fried meat dish, and I’m okay with that.
The Shreveport Farmer’s Market is back for the summer season and is open on Tuesday afternoons and Saturday mornings.
I stopped by yesterday and couldn’t resist purchasing some peaches. There is nothing better than a summer peach in the South.
There used to be a place in Point Pleasant, New Jersey called Southern House. I am not lying when I say that they had the best barbecue ribs ever. This says a lot because I don’t even really like ribs. Or barbecue for that matter.
We would always get a bucket on our way down to my grandfather’s house in Mantoloking. While most people associate the smell of family gatherings with Christmas cookies or Thanksgiving stuffing, I always associate the smell of baby back ribs with special family occasions.
Sadly, Southern House burned down in 2003 and I can’t even recall if I’ve eaten ribs since.
Fast forward nine years later and we have found ribs that rival those of Southern House. I’m actually going to officially state that last night’s dinner was my best meal since moving to the South.
Thank you, Silver Star Smokehouse.
This is the type of place where you can smell the BBQ pit before you even get out of your car.
The Cowboy Ten Commandments hanging by the hostess stand.
I blinked from the flash but I think this better depicts how delicious the ribs tasted. Pure bliss.
My hands were covered in sticky BBQ sauce.
I’m not sure why the last two photos have black spots all over them, but I think it adds authenticity to the gritty feel of a good Southern smokehouse.