We’re not going to Florida like so many Hoosiers do this year. Instead, our travels this winter are taking us to Southwest Texas where we plan to volunteer at a National Wildlife Refuge in the Rio Grande Valley.

    After a two day trip, We reached Vicksburg where the name of every third business seemed to contain the word ‘Magnolia’. This was the deep south, all right.  We settled in at the Magnolia Acres RV Park and prepared to do a little sightseeing.

            We spent a day driving around the battlefield where the siege of Vicksburg took place in 1863. It was much like Gettysburg, Manassas and Chattanooga, the other battlefields we have visited. I wish I was a historian so I could give the subject of this war  the respect it deserves but since I’m not, I’ll just say the visit was well worth the trip. 

            The architecture of Civil War homes is also prominent in the south  and many  homes in Vicksburg as well as Natchez 60 miles further down the Mississippi river  are opened for touring. ‘Antebellum’ is the label given to the design of most of these homes.

   Both Susie and I have seen the term ‘antebellum’ used before, usually in books about the deep south but we really had no idea what the term meant.  When we stopped at a hardware store to get some glue for one of Susie’s projects, she asked the owner of the store what it meant to describe southern homes as antebellum.

            “It means they’re old.” he said.

            “Okay.” She said.

            “It also means it costs a lot to heat one of ‘em” he said, grinning. “And a helluva lot more to cool one.”

            “You own one, eh?” I said.

            “Yep.”  

            Having finished this lesson on southern architecture, Susie and I both decided that was enough history for the day. We were hungry. Even though we were interested in the historical aspects of the south, I was also interested in sampling some of the region’s more popular menus, known as ‘Southern Cooking’.   To me, that meant fried catfish, pinto beans and collard greens, one of my favorite meals.

            The lady at the RV park had told me about a place called the Magnolia Catfish shack. As she talked, I pictured a little shanty type building perched out on some rickety Mississippi river pier with wonderful, succulent smells pouring out of a cattywompus tin pipe sticking out the side of the building. I knew it would have a screen door with ‘RC Cola’ stenciled right into the screen. I also pictured a cheerful middle aged lady wearing an apron and wiping down a counter built out of old Coca Cola cases. Strangely enough, the lady in this mental picture looked a lot like my mom.

            As soon as Susie announced she was hungry, I drove west towards the river where I hoped to find the catfish shack. 

            As we drove through Vicksburg’s downtown area,  Susie saw a sign advertising a restaurant called Willie Mae and Po’ Teddy’s. .

            “Let’s eat there.” She said. “I love names like that.”

            “I don’t know….” I said.

            “It usually means the food is good when the owner’s name is on the place.”

            I knew she was right about that but still, I was hoping to find that catfish shack. But being the good husband that I am,  I didn’t want to disappoint Susie. We went into Willie Mae’s and had a look at a cafeteria serving line filled with greens, pinto beans, black eyed peas, chicken fried steak, chicken fried chicken, deep fried pickles, pot pie and polk leaves swimming in bits of bacon. Good Lord. Polk leaves??? I hadn’t seen Poke leaves since Eisenhower was President. Topping the whole thing off was a big container of blackberry cobbler. Boy, it looked good and the line behind us stretched to the door. The savory smells grabbed my nose and pulled me towards that fried chicken. We didn’t need any other recommendation. 

            Still, I debated. I couldn’t get that catfish at the shack perched precariously over the Mississippi out of my mind. What to do??? What to do??? I hemmed and hawed around until Susie made the decision for me. “Okay, let’s go to the Catfish Shack.”  

            Susie looked at the map as I drove towards the river.

            “You’re going the wrong way. It’s back the other direction.” She told me.

            “No it isn’t.” I said. “It can’t be. The Big Muddy is this way.”   

            “I can’t help it. The address is that way.” She said, pointing at the map.

            “I…., I don’t understand. It must be on a big creek or something.” Yeah, that was it. It had to be a big creek, I decided. So it wasn’t the Mississippi, a good sized creek would still be okay.    

            Susie just shook her head as I turned away from the water. We finally found the place but it wasn’t on a pier.  It was in the corner of an interstate exchange and was at least five miles from the nearest body of water. The building wasn’t rickety at all. It could have easily passed for a Denny’s or an Applebee’s. There was no kindly lady who looked like my mom behind a counter, just a wise cracking waitress who forgot to bring me my cocktail sauce. The catfish was antiseptic and the French fries were the out of a bag, frozen kind..

            “Gaaah… Shack, my eye.” I thought as I paid the bill. “Fooled again.”  False advertising had gotten to me once more.  

            My taste buds were ready for a good dose of down home reality and I got a plateful of  Madison Avenue instead.

            Will I ever learn?

Note from Susie, he  isn’t kidding. He will never learn.  I don’t know why I even suggested Willie Mae’s, it was obvious the minute we walked into the place that he already had his heart set on that dumb Catfish Shack.. No matter how bad I wanted to stay where we were,  I knew he’d have some stupid excuse not to eat there.

            Will I ever learn?