Page 3 of Lulu’s Recipe for Cajun Sass

Standing, she gave Tante Lulu a warm hug and showed her with a motion of her hand that she’d had the waiter place a cushion on the opposite bench seat to compensate for her reduced height. In fact, Mary Lou, who was five-foot-nine, had to lean down to kiss Tante Lulu’s cheek. You’d wonder how there could be such a disparity in height among two women in the same family…her mother was tall, too…but then Tante Lulu wasn’t really their blood kin, though she considered herself aunt to all the LeDeux. It was complicated.

“Thank you for coming, auntie,” she whispered against her powdered cheek.

“Are you kidding?” Tante Lulu said. “I woulda driven all the way up to the Triple L if you’d asked me. Any time, sweetie.”

“Oh, no! I would never ask you to drive that far. Besides, the ranch is a madhouse today with preparations for tomorrow’s big birthday bash. You are coming, aren’t you?” Her aunt had to be wondering why Mary Lou couldn’t have waited until tomorrow to discuss whatever she had to discuss, but Mary Lou wanted privacy for what she had to say, and there would be little of that at home.

“I wouldn’t miss it. I’m comin’ with Luc and his family in that new SUV of his. Gotta have room fer my Peachy Praline Cobbler Cake. Oh, I know there will be other cakes…in fact, five birthday cakes, but—”

“—it’s not a party without your Peachy Praline Cobbler Cake,” Mary Lou finished for her, with a smile.

“Yep. I’m hopin’ my cake will sweeten up those mommies who’re still a little bit mad at me.”

“A little bit” was an exaggeration. More like a lot. But then, Tante Lulu was always pissing off one person or another as she breezed through life like a mini bayou bulldozer. To say she had no filter when expressing an opinion would be a gross understatement. On the other hand, the people she pleased, those who loved and admired her, well, they far outweighed the others. She was a gem…flawed, garish to some eyes, but a treasure just the same.

If only I could…never mind. That can wait.

As to the family’s current gripe…tomorrow’s party marked the one-year birthdays for five boy babies, all born on the same day, to LeDeux family members: Timothy, or Timmy, to Mary Lou’s mother and father, Charmaine LeDeux and Raoul Lanier; Christopher, or Chris, to Uncle Luc and Aunt Sylvie LeDeux; Rafael, or Rafe, to Uncle Remy and Aunt Rachel; Sebastian, or Seb, to Uncle René and Aunt Val; And Gabriel, or Gabe, to Uncle John and Aunt Celine. The ladies, and the men, too, for that matter, all blamed Tante Lulu for their late-in-life pregnancies, something to do with a casually tossed out wish by Tante Lulu to St. Jude that there would be more babies in the family. Or maybe it had just been a sigh. Her aunt’s connection to the saint was known to be powerful. For a long time after the mass pregnancy announcement, women throughout the bayou steered clear of her aunt for fear she would look at them in a certain way.

Actually, there would be seven birthday cakes, to include Uncle Dan and Aunt Samantha’s twin boys who’d been born two months earlier than the others. They were named David and Andrew, called the DNA twins because of their initials. A bit of Cajun or medical humor there, considering that Uncle Dan was a doctor.

With all the extended family and friends, at least a hundred people were expected to attend. Her daddy had started the coals for his humongous barbecue pit this morning. A half steer would cook slowly for at least twenty-four hours, with the promise of fork-tender steaks and ribs for the party. The sides would be brought by all the attendees.

Even her celebrity cousin Andy LeDeux, best known by the nickname “Candy Andy,” a hotshot New Orleans Saints football player, planned to stop by. Some of the cowboys on the ranch would have to do double duty as security around the periphery of the ranch to keep away the fans. Same went for the news media who’d gotten a whiff of Andy’s possible trade to a Yankee team. God forbid! The South would rise again if that happened.

She and Tante Lulu placed their orders for sweet tea, crawfish étouffée, Creole sunburst salads, and a salty caramel bread pudding which they would share. The waitress paused before leaving and asked, “Are you Tante Lulu?”

“I am, dear. Why do you ask?”

“My mama, Eveline Foucet, swears by your diaper rash ointment. Says it’s better than anything you can buy in the store. My baby has a bad rash that just won’t go away. The poor thing cries all night.”

Tante Lulu nodded and said, “You come to my cottage later today, and I’ll have the salve ready fer you. I live about a mile past Boudreaux’s General Store out on Black Bayou Road. Do you know where that is?”

“I do. Thank you so much!”

“And tell yer mama to stop by anytime. My fig tree is about to burst with fruit, and I recall how Evie allus had a hankerin’ fer fig jam.”

When the waitress was gone, Mary Lou looked at her aunt. “What’s in your salve that makes it so special?”

“Gator spit.”

Mary Lou wasn’t sure if she was serious or not. But then, it didn’t matter. Tante Lulu was Tante Lulu. Mary Lou wouldn’t put anything past her.

While they dined, they chatted about family, Tante Lulu’s continuing herbal healing business, Mary Lou’s studies, and Uncle René’s band, The Swamp Rats, which was planning a concert next month for Save the Bayou, an environmental group that was battling the oil industry on the gulf. Her aunt was as alert and funny, as ever, thank God!

“I hear that louse, Valcour LeDeux, has got another girl pregnant. At his age! They oughta chop off his pecker and pickle it in a Mason jar and send it to Ripley’s Believe It or Not. I’d do it myself, except I wouldn’t want to touch the slimy thing. Eew!”

“Auntie!”

“Sorry. I forgot, he’s yer granddaddy.”

“It’s not that,” Mary Lou said, laughing. “I hardly ever see him. It’s what you said…that word.”

“What? Pecker? I coulda said somethin’ worse.”

“I know, I know. Please don’t.”

Mary Lou knew that Tante Lulu had hated Valcour LeDeux for a long, long time. Everyone knew that. In fact, when Mary Lou’s uncles Luc, Remy, and René were boys, they often fled the drunken rages of their father, running to the bayou cottage of Tante Lulu, who was in some convoluted way their aunt, or great-aunt, or something. Tante Lulu claimed he was an egg-suckin’ dawg from the first she met him. And the shelf life on Tante Lulu’s grievances against Valcour was like forever, but then he kept adding more chits onto his bad boy/man tab. Mary Lou was aware of four legitimate children born to two wives, one deceased and one hanging on by her expensive sculptured nails, but more and more illegitimate ones kept coming to light over the years. Mary Lou’s own mother, Charmaine, was one of the illegitimate ones.