I have been hither and yonder, greeting kin in bayou country and in small towns north of New Orleans. On Friday, my mom and I stopped at a roadside cafe for a cup of gumbo. It's not worth mentioning the name of the place, as the gumbo was far beneath my family's standards. The only noteworthy thing about the place was the placard in back of the establishment. I would add a sign, "Be aware of bad gumbo," but the owners might take offense.
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