Editor’s note: This the first of periodic postings on memorable meals Andy experiences while on the road covering college football.

HOUSTON — The line outside The Turkey Leg Hut at 11:25 a.m. Friday seemed plenty long. The temperature had already soared past 95 degrees, and beads of sweat collected on every forehead. Yet as the hostess moved down the line to ask whether diners wanted to sit inside, outside or at the first open table, the answer remained the same. First available. Whatever gets us to the stuffed turkey legs faster.

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The husband-and-wife team of Lynn and Nakia Price started out selling turkey legs, boudin and sausage-on-a-stick outside the Houston rodeo in 2015. Now Lynn and Nakia — she’s a former University of Houston basketball player — have built an empire on Alameda Road near the Houston campus. James Harden and Snoop Dogg are fans.  The Turkey Leg Hut takes up two lots, and its dining room and massive patio stay packed at all hours. Soon, they’ll open The Daquiri Hut next door. But at the moment, the crowds are coming for the legs.

The idea of a stuffed turkey leg intrigued me. As a wily theme park veteran, I’ve eaten a lot of turkey legs. (At Disney World or Universal Studios, the turkey leg is the most actual, non-processed food a person can purchase for the least amount of money.) But I couldn’t recall a cavity of any kind in the hundreds of gobble-gobble drumsticks I had consumed. So how would this work? How does one stuff a turkey leg?

With as much delicious filling as humanly possible, apparently. 

I had originally planned to order the cajun crawfish mac and cheese stuffed leg, but my companion beat me to that. So I went with the Alfredo shrimp stuffed leg. I don’t eat much Alfredo sauce, but I appreciate its creamy, oily ability to coat all the mouth’s pleasure centers. Still, I wondered how this would work.

When my leg arrived, I understood. About an inch of bone topped with a knob of cartilage on the right side of my tray was the only indication that there was indeed a bird’s ambulatory protuberance under that pile of giant shrimp, sauce and parmesan cheese. But there was something else under there, too. Something I would have known about had I read the menu more closely.

The basic stuffed turkey leg comes crammed full of dirty rice. As I pivoted to the Alfredo shrimp stuffed leg, I nearly opted for the simpler one just because of the dirty rice. For those who don’t live along the Gulf coast — where dirty rice is a staple — the combo of rice, spices and finely chopped meat (often chicken livers) is one of those dishes that always delivers but you’d never think to make yourself. I love dirty rice, and I had felt a tiny pang of regret when I’d told my server to bring the Alfredo shrimp leg.

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But as I worked my fork through the sauce to stab a shrimp, I unearthed something amazing. A ball of dirty rice was lodged in the drumstick. Had I paid attention to the menu, I would have known that the leg I ordered was in fact a dirty rice leg with shrimp and Alfredo sauce on top. Instead, I simply stumbled into one of the five best things I’ve ever eaten. I ignored the shrimp and immediately pulled some meat from the bone with my fork. Then, with the turkey on board, I dug the fork into the dirty rice. This pulled a dollop of Alfredo sauce into the mixture. I swirled the fork a few times to let it all collaborate, and then I took a bite. The mixture of smoky turkey, spicy rice and savory sauce tripped every taste bud sensor I had. I’m not sure I remember a more perfect bite of anything. I repeated this process two more times. Before I could take a fourth bite, I noticed I was drooling all over my turkey leg.

A diner at another table noticed, too. “You enjoying that?” she asked. Like me, she was a first-timer trying to figure out what to order. I told her I’d found my forever order. I tasted the crawfish mac and cheese leg. It was delicious. I tried a Ciroc Mango Habanero Glazed leg. It was outstanding, sweet at first but with a feisty finishing kick. But neither of those reduced me to a puddle of my own drool like that Alfredo shrimp leg.

I would eat that leg for every meal. I would wait hours to eat it. In fact, I would do nearly anything to eat it. So, apparently, will everyone else. As we left The Turkey Leg Hut at 12:45, the line stretched around the side of the building. The temperature crept closer to 100 degrees. It didn’t matter. They might leave drenched in sweat, but they wouldn’t leave without a taste.

(Photo: Andy Staples)