I do love Voo-Doo. I wish there was some where I work so I could dash in for a quick one at lunch break. But, I have to think of reasons to not eat here.
I've got this ritual, covering the tops of saltines with burnt orange love sauce and then counting drips that fall from holes before the whole ka-bang is in my mouth.
"I need extra sauce," a take-out patron demands with heroine-addiction impetus.
"Oh yeah--you do!" I applaud in my mind but not out loud (because my mouth is full with a poor-man's appetizer.)
Besides, we patrons need to stick together, keep it quiet. No one here wants management to know how bad we need their spicy cane juice. They'll start charging to leave the bottle at the table.
Voo-Doo definitely has the best BBQ in my neighborhood--probably in the whole city. I came here after I lost a court case that my ex left me to fight. I came here after the master bedroom flooded. I came here immediately after...
I'll definitely need me some Voo-doo at the next stop.
"Wherever that might be".
Oh, I know! I told you I was going to Austin, but:
Tonight, I don't have to make sense of it. I just need to eat my yummy 'Mardi Gras with smoked turkey, dried berries, diced mango, and hold the stinky-sock-goat-cheese salad', please. Tonight, I play in the yummy blackberry vinaigrette, drizzling non-sensical circles.
"I don't know how these crazy Cajuns haven't figure out how to batter this shi-zizzle, deep fry it, and cover it with more sauce."
"This $4*t is serious!"
I can't ever decide which one is best. I pick blind and then get too committed to remember THERE ARE OTHER OPTIONS. By then, I'm half crazed in a way that I haven't felt since the last time I was in Voo-doo. I look at the spice rack that has holes for other choices and reach out. I don't care which one. I just need to feed this force.
"I could easily stay with this one for the rest of my meal."
I've already covered all of my saltines with one of the two when I realize I'm halfway through my pallet refreshing pint, but I haven't tasted the third sauce. I hold its label to the light, savoring the last act.
"'Mojo'! Why did I ever go for the 'Tangy' or 'Traditional' first?"
And then--after two years of involuntary celibacy-,-this entire conversation resembles a dating pattern.
"God--I soooooooo need a girlfriend!"
I've got this ritual, covering the tops of saltines with burnt orange love sauce and then counting drips that fall from holes before the whole ka-bang is in my mouth.
"I need extra sauce," a take-out patron demands with heroine-addiction impetus.
"Oh yeah--you do!" I applaud in my mind but not out loud (because my mouth is full with a poor-man's appetizer.)
Besides, we patrons need to stick together, keep it quiet. No one here wants management to know how bad we need their spicy cane juice. They'll start charging to leave the bottle at the table.
Voo-Doo definitely has the best BBQ in my neighborhood--probably in the whole city. I came here after I lost a court case that my ex left me to fight. I came here after the master bedroom flooded. I came here immediately after...
I'll definitely need me some Voo-doo at the next stop.
"Wherever that might be".
Oh, I know! I told you I was going to Austin, but:
- the kids gotta eat
- the job that i hated became my life-jacket
- life is wherever I breathe
- even if i'm single for the rest of my life
- because i could still be alone in Austin
- and, i have to start over
- and, i have to find a job
- and, i have kids to feed
Tonight, I don't have to make sense of it. I just need to eat my yummy 'Mardi Gras with smoked turkey, dried berries, diced mango, and hold the stinky-sock-goat-cheese salad', please. Tonight, I play in the yummy blackberry vinaigrette, drizzling non-sensical circles.
"I don't know how these crazy Cajuns haven't figure out how to batter this shi-zizzle, deep fry it, and cover it with more sauce."
"This $4*t is serious!"
I can't ever decide which one is best. I pick blind and then get too committed to remember THERE ARE OTHER OPTIONS. By then, I'm half crazed in a way that I haven't felt since the last time I was in Voo-doo. I look at the spice rack that has holes for other choices and reach out. I don't care which one. I just need to feed this force.
"I could easily stay with this one for the rest of my meal."
I've already covered all of my saltines with one of the two when I realize I'm halfway through my pallet refreshing pint, but I haven't tasted the third sauce. I hold its label to the light, savoring the last act.
"'Mojo'! Why did I ever go for the 'Tangy' or 'Traditional' first?"
And then--after two years of involuntary celibacy-,-this entire conversation resembles a dating pattern.
"God--I soooooooo need a girlfriend!"
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