Ah, yesâthis place. Where culinary ambition comes to die and flavor is just an optional suggestion. Letâs paint a picture here: I show up, and despite the line, Iâm thinking, âHey, maybe theyâve got their act together.â Foolish optimism. They hustle you in, toss you a plate, and pray you donât notice that the only thing moving faster than the service is your will to live.
Letâs talk about the crawfish crime scene theyâre calling food. You see, a real crawfish boil infuses the meat with soulâseasoning through and through. But these clowns? They cook the poor little bastards in plain water, then douse them in a salt tsunami after theyâre already dead. The result? The outsideâs so caked in seasoning itâll singe your fingerprints off, but crack it open and the meat tastes like itâs been boiled in regret and served on a plate of disappointment. Itâs like someone handed you a can of La Croix labeled âhint of crawfish.â
Now, because my wife is an optimistâand Iâm a masochistâI gave this place a second chance. This time? The pulled pork Poboy. What did I get? A sandwich so sad it should come with a therapy hotline printed on the wrapper. No toppings. No sauce. The bread was cold, like it was stored in a meat locker with the last shreds of their culinary ambition. Pulled pork? More like pushed aside porkâdry, flavorless, and so forgettable I almost needed a mirror to remember I was still alive.
Oh, and the paper towel holder? Empty. The entire time. Youâre in a place slinging greasy crawfish like a frat house at a kegger, and no one thought, âHey, maybe folks will need to wipe their fingers?â The server? Came by exactly onceâto drop the foodâand vanished like my last shred of patience. No check-in. No refills. Nothing. I half-expected to see a chalk outline where their customer service used to be.
Final thoughts? If you like your food underwhelming, your sandwiches cold and naked, your crawfish tasting like someone whispered a spice rackâs name over them from a mile away, and your hands left greasy with no napkins in sight, then this is your spot. Otherwise, save yourself the trip and lick the salt off a cracker instead. Same experience, fewer calories.
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Orionâs Grade: F for âFeral...
   Read moreCalled in a pick up order to this restaurant will be the first and last time for that. When I arrived the little blonde girl behind the counter offered no greeting just can I help you. I let her know I was picking up a order she looked at me like I asked her to explain the theory of relativity. I explained to her I was picking up a order that I called in for. After asking the two other people who were standing there what a pickup is I got it. The little girl took my payment never said thank you or made I contact I know this is deep hillbilly country but just because I'm not one doesn't mean you should act like I don't matter. This girl maybe a family member of the owner but customer service is key in any business and this was terrible customer service. The food itself very bland I believe it's made for certain types of people. If you enjoy cajun food because of the service and the taste...
   Read moreFantastic Crawfish. The seafood gumbo was decent, but the crawfish here were delicious.
Waitress was reasonably attentive, without being overbearing.
I will be back for sure. Prices were on par with what if seen earlier in the week at another place, but there was NO comparison when it came to the size and flavor of the crawfish. Cormierâs was the champ.
One thing though. Although it was no problem for me, they are heavily seasoned with a Cajun seasoning. If you have a cut, bring some gloves!
If you donât like it hot, Iâm told you can order them without the extra seasoning on top, but they were perfectly spicy to me just the way they were.
Also, Iâm told there is a hand washing station around the corner of the building. I wish they had told me, but at Iâll know next time I go, and now you will too!
I canât wait to come back to...
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