Everything was overly rich and cheesy. The following day, we took a swamp tour with a husky Cajun fellow in his tiny home-built boat. He pulled out a plastic bag of cracklins, which his father had just made. This joint is on the wrong side of the tracks, but sweet service and a wall of warm family pictures make the experience just like eating in someone's house. The meat was merely ok, and side dishes were terribly bland.
Rooms are in old train cars behind the owner's house.
It's incredibly detailed, and includes places most other guidebooks wouldn't dare set foot in.