In kitchens and smokehouses on both sides of the Sabine River, Cajun, Southern, and Texas cooking meet—and nobody ever goes hungry. Me and two gorgeous Texans—a long, tall, redheaded location scout and a bright-eyed brunette photographer—are doing 75 miles an hour up Highway 59 in a dusty, white, year-old Buick Regal with the sunroof open and the ashtrays full, three six-packs of Lone Star in the cooler in the trunk, and Chris Gaffney on the stereo singing ''East of Houston, West of Baton Rouge''—which, as it happens, is exactly where we are. Bill Johnson, a lanky, fast-talking Houstonian who was...