We arrived late and put back a few beers with my uncle at his brand new house in Southern Trace. He's got his own golf cart garage - no big deal. The next morning we had chicory coffee to start our proper southern day (or tea - they like their tea too, Evan.) Uncle Pete suggested I wash all that Yankee salt off my filthy car and how could I refuse?
It was nice seeing the southern sect of the Burgess clan as usual, and again as usual the eating was excellent. My often absent cousin Blake even joined us for lunch, a rare occasion indeed. We had none other than a certified Cajun feast at Kim's Seafood. Boiled crawfish, fried oysters, softshell crab and of course Dr. P.
After lunch we waxed my car at a pace that would would make a turtle blush, Banquet beers in hand.
My aunt Robin's parents came over for an epic feast complete with grace to kick it all off. We had filet mignon over charcoal and hickory chips, sausages (or trouble as my uncle endearingly refers to them) and Dijon-caramelized onion salad. Topped off with a few more beers and grandma's Christmas cookies I'd say it was a pretty successful visit. Nothin' like southern hospitality.
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