Third Generation Eats did not start as a business. It started as Sunday dinner: a kitchen in south Louisiana, a pot that had been going since morning, and enough people around the table that somebody always had to eat standing up.
The recipes never got written down. They got passed on the way they always do here: by being in the room. You learned by watching, by tasting when you were told to taste, and by being handed a spoon and told to keep stirring while somebody else went to answer the door. By the time it was your turn to cook, you already knew what it was supposed to look and smell like.
Three generations on, that is still how we do it. The gravy is homemade, not from a packet. The meat goes on early because it takes as long as it takes. Everything is seasoned to perfection before it leaves the pot. Nothing about it is fast, and that is the point. This is food designed to be worth waiting for.
What is different now is the trailer. Black and gold, parked on West Landry Street in Opelousas, with the same crest on the side that is on this page. It means the diiner table got a lot bigger, and you do not have to be family to sit at it.
