I shot Kerwin Cortez at LaFourche Parish’s big ‘Festival of Old Times’ party earlier today. Mr Cortez was in a talkative mood and we quickly settled into a good, long discussion concerning the way of the cracklin. And we did it over a buffet of fried-out pork fat, hot out of a cauldron of lard.
Cortez is something of an expert and he easily discoursed on the different styles of cracklins available across Acadiana. His platonic ideal was on offer, and a fat poke of them only ran $5. These are the thin, chip-like cracklin consisting of almost pure crispy fat with little to no meat attached.
As you migrate northward, Cortez explained, you begin to run into rougher, shaggier cracklins that feature a good sized tidbit of flesh on the underside of the cracklin. “Everybody’s got their own style” he explained.
Indeed, these are some fine cracklins but wholly different than the kind you get up in Cottonport where T-Jim Moreau has our own idea of what Louisiana’s ne plus ultra is.