The historic downtown strip of Medford, a quaint Victorian village on the fringes of the Pinelands, is about the last place I expected to encounter a "hey y'all!" bowl of Louisiana gumbo.
But there it was the other night, steaming "ya-ya" style around a scoop of rice, with tender morsels of chicken bumping up against smoky moons of andouille sausage in a spice-tingled broth turned chestnut brown by patiently darkened roux.
That it was served in a trendy square bowl is a small soul concession to the striving elegance of Ted's on Main, the year-and-a-half-old bistro where I was eating. But this was the genuine article, lusty and rich, with the fresh crunch of green scallions scattered on top, and I'd happily drive the hour from Center City for a taste when I get a serious Creole craving. With Mardi Gras this week, I feel one coming on.