On the Redneck Riviera

There's a cooking show I was watching here in Pensacola, co-hosted by a guy who claimed to be from "over in New Orleans." From the accent, I didn't doubt his domicile somewhere in Louisiana, but as he melted a plastic spatula over a flaming skillet, I questioned the veracity of his claim to culinary mastery.

Cooking blackened fish over buttered rice and buttered vegetables doesn't qualify, for me anyway, as material worthy of broadcast on a cooking show (cayenne-crusted, i.e., "blackened" food, isn't New Orleans fare).

Which led me to the idea for a show called "Cooking on the Redneck Riviera." A scrappy host with a beer gut hanging below his belt and a growth of whiskers cooks a can of beans in the can over an open flame. While the beans are cooking, the host fires off a few rounds at empty beer cans. When the beans are finished cooking, the host discusses pairings of cheap beer. Of course, after he finishes off his meal of beans, he conjures a powerful belch from the depths of his gut.