Jackson Jambalaya

When I was a kid, there always seemed to be chaos surrounding the scramble to get ready for Sunday School. It’s hard to recall exactly what created the disorder, but I remember always having a hard time finding my “Sunday shoes.” One would think that an item of clothing worn once a week would have a permanent storage spot, but that was never the case. While the shoe scramble was underway, the television in the den— still left on from earlier episodes of “The Three Stooges” or “My Favorite Martian”— was blaring in the background. The theme song to “The Gospel Jubilee” rang throughout the house, and is still on a loop in some type of Happy Goodman time warp in the back of my brain all these years later.

I never sat down to watch the show, but the show’s opening track seemed to be the official soundtrack of the Sunday morning scramble. I have no idea what time “Gospel Jubilee” aired on our local station, but I suspect it was whatever time Sunday School was set to begin, which meant we were late and still had to drive downtown to make it to church.

“Jubilee! Jubilee! You’re invited to the gospel jubilee.” I spent the next 20 years thinking a jubilee was only about religious music.

Coastal kids knew better. They grew up hearing stories about jubilees in Point Clear, Alabama where someone would run into the lobby of the Grand Hotel yelling, “Jubilee! Jubilee!” Hotel guests and locals would then grab a net, and an ice chest— or any container they could find— and walk out into shin-deep saltwater and scoop up blue crab, shrimp, speckled trout, flounder, and several other Gulf species that might be trying to reach the oxygenated shallows.

A jubilee is a natural phenomenon that occurs when the oxygen level of the water is low, the temperature of the water is high, and a wind blows out of the north. It usually happens early in the morning or near dusk when the plankton hasn’t had time to break up and produce oxygen. It’s rare when all of those factors come together at once, but when they do it’s a seafood jackpot for all in the vicinity. Fish, shrimp, and crab head to shallow water in search of oxygen and local citizens head to the shoreline in search of supper.

Over the years I’ve heard of people leaving the shore with a pick-up truck bed of crabs, washtubs full of shrimp, and over 100 flounder that can be gigged easily. That is quite a haul.

It wasn’t until 1987, after I opened my first restaurant, that I learned of the Mobile Bay version of a jubilee. I met a man in the Purple Parrot Café who was from Point Clear. He had been a part of several jubilees over the course of his lifetime. I sat in awe as he recounted numerous jubilees he had participated in since childhood. I gave him my phone number and told him to call me anytime of the day or night the next time a jubilee occurred. He said they only happen for an hour or so, I said, “I don’t care. I will be there quickly. I have to see this.”

The call never came.

For a seafood lover, I can’t imagine anything more thrilling. There is something romantic to me in a culture that lives on the water in an area where something like that could occur at any minute. Over the years I have told other friends and acquaintances to call me if it happens. I never received a call.

Until a few weeks ago.

Kelly, a former co-worker, longtime Mobile Bay resident, and one I knew would definitely call when it happened, texted me stating, “Birds are talking! We may have another jubilee! Tons of micro baby shrimp at the water’s edge. We’ll see.”

It never developed into anything, but I told her. “Please keep me in the loop. I’ve been waiting over 35 years to witness— and be a part of— a jubilee. I’ll drive down any time of day. I can probably be there in 90 minutes if I hit the traffic just right.”

Then I received a video text from Kelly at 7:18 a.m. this morning. In the reel, there were hundreds of fish swimming near the shoreline. Another followed. Then the text, “The birds aren’t here but the shrimp, finger mullet, catfish, baby eels, and a few small flounder are surfacing.” Damn the timing! I am loaded up all morning with appointments that can’t be cancelled, in addition to a newspaper column deadline in a matter of hours.

A few minutes later a photo popped up on my phone of Kelly’s husband, David, with a gigged Flounder, followed by the message, “Okay, big flounder now. Everyone is at work and has no clue this is going on.” Followed by a couple of more photos and, finally the four words I have been waiting over three decades to hear, “It’s definitely a jubilee!”

Ah the luck. I was out of town all last week and am out the rest of this week. Today is my only day to catch up and the day is loaded with meetings. The jubilee gods are working against me.

I called Kelly on the phone and made sure she knew not to take this as disinterest for future jubilees. I also asked permission to use the pic of David and his flounder.

They say timing is everything. Whether it’s trying to make it to Sunday school or seeing a mass invasion of seafood, one must be ready to take advantage of every situation in life.

Most people have bucket lists of things they hope to do and tasks they hope to accomplish before they die. Those lists are filled with things like visiting the great wonders of the modern world such as the Great Wall of China, The Pyramids at Giza, and climbing up to Machu Picchu. I just want to get knee deep in Mobile Bay with a net and an ice chest and take part in one of the great wonders of the Southern world, a jubilee.

Onward.