Finding good boudin in North Texas used to be near impossible. Not anymore, thanks to Beaux Boudin, the new family-owned restaurant and specialty meat shop in Arlington with a name that sounds like a New Orleans private eye. It serves and sells the Creole-seasoned rice- and pork-stuffed links alongside other Louisiana classics, such as gumbo and jambalaya.
“They’re traditional Creole-Cajun dishes that can only come from Grandma,” says Jeff Crump, who co-owns Beaux Boudin with his wife, Melissa Hernandez-Crump. He was raised in Houston by his French-speaking Creole grandmother, Clementine Fontenot, who was from Eunice, Louisiana. On any given day, Crump and his cousins would feast on seafood gumbo, dirty rice, and catfish court bouillon. When he moved north from Houston, in 2006, he was shocked to find Dallas lacked authentic Cajun cuisine.
Seeing the gap in the market, Crump started selling his frozen boudin at farmers markets. But after handing out hot food samples to promote his links, he discovered that folks were more interested in eating his prepared dishes than cooking for themselves. He shifted his business model to sell both frozen and prepared foods to go.
“They’re traditional Creole-Cajun dishes that can only come from Grandma.”
Beaux Boudin’s brick-and-mortar operation is a full-fledged family affair. The couple’s son, Aiden Aguirre, cooks in the kitchen with Hernandez-Crump’s sister, Cindy Hernandez. Hernandez-Crump’s Mexican heritage comes through in the boudin street tacos made with chunks of spicy boudin, pepper jack cheese, house-made rémoulade, and spicy cabbage slaw. The taco was her dad’s idea, and the slaw is her mother’s recipe.
The boudin recipe, which Crump slowly altered to add more flavors, is from his uncle. Stuffed inside a casing is ground pork shoulder and liver, rice, and what Crump calls the “Cajun trinity”: onion, bell pepper, and celery. (The garlic is the pope.) He takes an entire day to make mild and spicy versions of the family’s original boudin recipe in 150-pound batches.
Inside the shop, a framed black-and-white photo of a smiling Grandma Fontenot has pride of place on a shelf. “It’s about knowing who you are,” Crump says. “For many people who have left Louisiana, that individuality, that slice of culture, gets lost as you acclimate and assimilate into new places. I think some things are worth preserving.”
This story originally appeared in the July issue of D Magazine with the headline “Come and Geaux.” Write to feedback@dmagazine.com.
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