I don’t know who this Uncle Bud is, but I wish he was in our family. Anyone who serves up a plate like this deserves honorary kinship. The jambalaya hits like a warm Southern lullaby: creamy rice soaked in creole sauce with bites of tender chicken and savory sausage that seem to hum in harmony. Then come the sides, and mercy—white beans so creamy they melt mid-sentence, coleslaw slick but not sloppy, and seasoned steak fries crisp enough to earn respect, soft enough to keep it. A slice of Vidalia onion brings sweetness with a sly little bite, and the hush puppies? Crunchy shell with a fluffy cloud inside. If Nashville and New Orleans had a food baby, this is the glorious, bayou-born result.