They've got catfish on the table. They've got gospel in the air.

Whenever I go back to Jackson or Mississippi, fried catfish is always on the must-do list. Throughout college my favorite fried catfish joint was Jerry's on Highway 49 just south of Jackson. The two-story building is in the shape of an igloo, and the walls are nicotine-yellow inside. They have all-you-can-eat catfish filets along with unlimited fries, hush puppies, and cole slaw (oh, their coleslaw is the best I've ever had anywhere). It's the perfect place for an eating competition. I think the record our clique set was around 51 catfish filets (maybe 41, but that's still a lot). The first time we did it, one guy just barely lost, so he went back simply to eat just one more filet in one sitting than the other guy. Hence, the record is 51 instead of 50. I can only do around 25 before I start feeling a heart attack coming on.

However, the other big catfish joint in Jackson is Cock of the Walk on the north side of town next to the Reservoir. It's definitely not a classy place, but it does have a better atmosphere than Jerry's. They serve their food on tin plates. But they don't have an all-you-can-eat policy, which automatically makes them my least favorite option. The cole slaw and tartar sauce are also less spectacular, and the catfish tastes about the same. Since most of my friends in Jackson live on the north side of the Jackson, this place is much more convenient for everyone. It's hard to convince a large group to drive the 45 minutes to the other side of town to eat catfish when Cock of the Walk is about 10 minutes away.

If someone ever wants to say they like Cock of the Walk, he has to be careful. He might slip up and say, "I like Cock... of the Walk." Not that I've ever slipped up and said something awkward like that.

Catfish on the table.

The restaurant has its own pier on the Reservoir

so that boats stop by and order food.

Mr. Cock and his Walk.

The "cock" was the captain of a flatboat

before steamboats improved transportation

on the Mississippi. The "walk" was the

flatboat, which could only go downstream

to New Orleans so that boatmen had to

walk back up north via the Natchez Trace.

Several signs warned people not to feed the ducks.

The signs didn't say anything about the geese, though.