Sam Segari's gumbo is murky, mysterious and full of character -- just like everything else in this crazy little joint. The soup is loaded with fresh shrimp, and the dark roux is just spicy enough to keep your lips warm. Sam prefers to serve the gumbo as an appetizer. The entrées are whatever he feels like making, but there's usually a steak and a crab salad covered with more lump crabmeat than anybody could possibly eat. Don't ask to see the menu -- there isn't one. And don't ask to be seated in the no-smoking section -- they don't have one of those, either. There are only six tables in the whole place: two round ones in the barroom up front where Sam holds court, and four in an old-fashioned dining room decorated with a huge dark wooden breakfront. If Sam doesn't like your attitude, he'll run you off, regulars warn. And they aren't kidding.