Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Flea Market (5)
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The Cajun food corner caught my eye first.
Gumbo, jambalaya, crawfish etouffee, red beans and rice...
Louisiana's signature dishes were all steaming hot and ready to go.
I started with a bowl of gumbo. It was a thick, dark brown stew.
It had okra, shrimp, and andouille sausage in it.
I scooped up a spoonful and ate it straight away.
"Mm..."
The first thing that hit me was the unexpected smoky flavor.
Then came the nutty aroma unique to the thick roux, followed by a bittersweet punch.
After that, the sweetness from the vegetables like bell peppers, celery, and onions blended perfectly with the spicy kick from the Cajun spices, dancing on my tongue.
The okra's sticky texture felt weird at first, but I kept going back for more.
It was rich, deep, and addictively savory.
This is real Cajun food.
It oddly reminded me of Korea's hearty, deep-flavored gukbap.
Just this one dish, gumbo, already made Cajun cuisine feel familiar.
I piled some jambalaya on my plate next.
It was Louisiana's classic—rice stir-fried with seafood, sausage, and more.
Similar to Spanish paella but way spicier. It had the Cajun "holy trinity" of onions, celery, and bell peppers, too.
Crawfish etouffee was new to me.
It was freshwater crawfish cooked in butter and Cajun spices.
The nutty, bittersweet taste of butter and roux mixed with the sharp, spicy savoriness of the spices, plus the sweetness from the crawfish meat.
The thick sauce paired perfectly with bread.
"Whoa, this is seriously good."
I couldn't help blurting it out.
This subtle spicy-sweet-salty harmony was perfect for my taste buds.
My hesitation about picking dishes started to fade.
Next, I headed straight to the barbecue corner, the one I'd been looking forward to most.
Louisiana-style barbecue was definitely different from Texas.
Texas, my favorite, was dry-rubbed ribs seasoned simply with salt and pepper. Louisiana's was all about sweet sauce and Cajun spices.
I stopped in front of something labeled boudin sausage.
"Excuse me, is this just regular sausage?"
A middle-aged Black guy scooping food nearby answered.
"Ah, boudin! It's sausage made with pork, rice, and spices. A Louisiana specialty."
Rice in sausage? Definitely unique.
He saw my face and grinned, adding,
"Cajun folks eat this for breakfast before heading to work."
I grabbed one and took a bite.
Cajun spices, rich ground meat flavor, and the rice texture...
It felt strangely familiar—turns out it was like spicy, unique Korean sundae.
Filling, and way tastier than expected.
"Looks like it's your first time. Definitely hit the seafood corner over there. It's our buffet's pride and joy."
The guy who'd explained earlier pointed it out.
Sure enough, the seafood area had the biggest crowd.
"Thanks for the tip. Heading there now."
"No problem."
The first thing I saw was a mountain of crawfish—freshwater ones from around here.
Coated generously in red Cajun seasoning, of course.
"These are huge... How do you even eat them?"
Looking around, people were twisting off the heads and sucking the tail meat.
I grabbed a few and tried—it was easier than I thought.
"...Whew."
Spicier than expected.
But it was that addictive, delicious heat.
The Cajun seasoning—cayenne pepper, paprika, garlic and onion powder—hit first, then the crawfish's briny-sweet juices spread through.
There was a ton of oyster dishes on one side.
Raw chilled oysters, grilled, fried... Every oyster prep imaginable.
Louisiana was famous for oysters in the U.S., so no surprise.
"Louisiana oysters from the Gulf of Mexico. Big and full of flavor."
The staffer explained proudly.
Sure enough, each one was too big for a single bite.
"You're right. Thanks for explaining."
I picked up a grilled oyster topped with spinach, parsley, and butter.
Even though it was oyster, it melted like butter, with briny, creamy richness filling my mouth.
The sheer size gave an impressive sense of fullness.
I swung by the Chinese food corner too.
Surprisingly good. Sweet and sour pork, kung pao chicken, fried rice... All solid.
Italian and Mexican corners were next.
Alfredo pasta, tacos, enchiladas—pretty impressive.
Thirteen bucks for all this...
Finally, desserts.
New Orleans beignets were there—square donuts dusted with powdered sugar.
One bite, and sugar flew everywhere.
"Kuh... Haha!"
I burst out laughing.
Grabbed some bread pudding too—sweet pudding with whiskey sauce.
And couldn't skip pecan pie. Louisiana was famous for pecans.
"Haa... Can't eat another bite. So stuffed."
I sipped coffee and gazed out the window leisurely.
Swamps stretched into the distance. Peaceful scenery.
An elderly couple at the next table was chatting.
"...Honey, let's only spend ten bucks today."
"Last time it was twenty."
"That was good luck. Ten today."
That's when I remembered this was a casino restaurant.
Casino on the brain even in a place this great.
Casinos and I just don't mix.
Full and satisfied, I toured the casino floor.
A middle-aged woman had hit the jackpot on a slot machine.
"Oh my God! Oh my God!"
Sirens blared, lights flashed.
Staff rushed over to verify.
"Congratulations!"
Someone mentioned $4,500.
Everyone clapped and cheered, but envy shone in their eyes.
Nothing to envy. I've got my own surefire game.
Don't get dazzled by the glitz.
Casinos always win; players lose.
I thought as I left.
After eating, I left the casino and headed to the parking lot.
Louisiana's hot sun shimmered off the asphalt.
About to climb into the truck, I spotted a pamphlet on the passenger seat.
A tourist guide I'd grabbed absentmindedly from the casino lobby.
I started the engine, cranked the AC, and flipped it open.
Welcome to Coushatta - Louisiana's Premier Gaming Resort
(Welcome to Coushatta — Louisiana's top casino resort)
Various tourist info followed: casino details, hotel guide, restaurant listings...
Then my eyes stopped on one page.
Coushatta Flea Market - Every Friday & Saturday (Coushatta Flea Market – Held every Friday and Saturday)
Photos showed colorful tents, bustling crowds, tables packed with goods.
"Perfect, it's Friday."
The description hooked me.
Louisiana's largest weekend flea market. Over 300 booths with antiques, vintage clothes, crafts, local produce. Tradition since 1970.
Open 8 a.m. to 5 p.m.
It was 2:30 p.m.—plenty of time.
Especially the fine print at the bottom.
Hidden Treasures Await - Hunt for buried treasure. Many visitors find rare items here.
Louisiana had deep history.
French, Spanish, African, Native influences—bound to have unique finds.
Map showed ten minutes from the casino.
North on Highway 165, then left.
"Worth a look."
Checked the time.
Four hours back to Texas.
Even leaving now, I'd arrive by 7 p.m. An hour at the market wouldn't hurt.
Plugged the address into navigation.
Coushatta Flea Market, 4500 Highway 165, Kinder, LA
[Starting route guidance.]
I drove out of the casino lot.
Broad avenue lined with casino billboards and hotel signs.
But just past the main drag, the scenery shifted completely.
Dense forests on both sides again.
Cypress trees rooted in the swamps, Spanish moss draping like gray curtains from branches.
"Classic Louisiana."
Worlds away from Texas's dry plains. Humid, primal, mystical nature.
About five minutes in,
A 'Flea Market Next Right' sign appeared.
Right turn into a wide open lot.
Parking lot was packed.
Louisiana plates, plus Texas, Mississippi, Arkansas—even Florida.
"More popular than I thought."
Finally found a spot and parked the truck.
Stepping out, sounds and smells hit all at once.
"Corn dogs! Fresh-fried corn dogs!"
"Real Louisiana alligator hide! Cheap!"
Haggling, music, kids laughing—all mixed.
Cajun tunes floated from somewhere; fried food and spice scents filled the air.
The flea market was bigger than expected.
Soccer-field-sized lot with hundreds of tents and booths.
Big sign at the entrance.
Since 1970 - Coushatta Flea Market - Buy, Sell, Trade
First section: antiques.
Just what I wanted.
One booth sold old military gear. WWII, Korea, Vietnam mixed in.
"Hi, is all this authentic?"
I pointed to a U.S. M1 helmet.
Lining inside: '1944'.
"Of course! Grandpa brought it from Normandy. Two hundred bucks, comes with authenticity certificate."
Seller was a confident 40s white guy.
Let's check.
I picked up the helmet lightly.
Focused, and scenes unfolded before my eyes.
But not what I expected—no battlefield, just a modern workshop.
Under fluorescent lights, a guy was rusting the helmet. Manual nearby read 'Aged to 1940s'.
Recent replica.
Even the date: calendar on the wall showed just months ago.
I set the helmet down carefully.
"I'll think about it."
"You know how hard it is to find WWII stuff this clean? I'll go to 150 if you buy now!"
New-made, of course it's pristine.
I waved him off and moved to the next booth.
This one looked more pro.
Glass cases with neat displays and description cards.
"Looking for anything specific?"
A white woman in her 60s asked.
Glasses on, magnifier in hand. Pro dealer vibe.
"Vintage watches or jewelry?"
"Of course. 1920s Cartier here, 1950s Rolex..."
Pricey-looking watches. Tags over a grand.
I checked each one.
Most real from the flashes, but priced at market value. No profit margin.
"Thanks. I'll browse more."
The third find was unexpected.
An old lady with a small table of odds and ends. Classic garage-sale type.
Stuff from house cleaning, probably.
Then the military seller from earlier approached her table.
"Ugh, Granny, who buys this junk? Especially this box—what is it? Obvious fake badges."
He pointed to a worn wooden box.
Inside: old photos, letters, small metal badges.
"These are cheap replica souvenirs. Don't bother—just twenty bucks, hand it all to me and go rest. I'll clear it out."
As she hesitated, I touched the box.
A strong vision flooded in.
Grand exposition hall.
Sign: Louisiana Purchase Centennial World’s Fair.
Young man pins badge proudly.
[Louisiana Purchase Exposition 1904 - Official Delegate]
This... real official delegate badge?
I pulled my hand away and spoke up quick.
"Granny, I'll take this box. Fifty bucks."