- Kat Robinson
- YOU CAN’T EAT JUST ONE, OR THREE: Ms. Rhoda’s tamales
After our breakfast in Dumas, a trip down Highway 1 through Watson, a misguided attempt to find Old Napoleon and a stop at Rohwer Relocation Camp we ended up on the doorstep of Rhoda Adams, as in the particularly local establishment in Lake Village known as Rhoda’s Famous Hot Tamales. She and her husband James run this place on St. Mary’s Street, and you can smell it a block away, the smell of spices and fried things luring you off Highway 65 if you let it. If you don’t roll down your windows and never leave the highway, you’ll never find it.
Now, it had been a while since we’d had breakfast — or, I had breakfast, that is, at Trevor’s Café in Dumas. We’d left there at 10 a.m. and here it was coming up on 2 p.m. and poor Grav still hadn’t eaten anything save for a handful of crackers he picked up at Wal-Mart when he went to replace his shoes. This requires a separate story that you can find summarized in the album on my Facebook fan page. Short of it was, he was already hungry. And I was getting there.