Two weeks ago, I experienced an unexpected mini vacation right in my own neighborhood. My daughter and I were delivering Girl Scout cookies. It was a beautiful sunny, but slightly chilly Sunday afternoon. We pulled up to one of our neighbor’s houses to find them out in the front yard, enjoying the sunshine, playing in the grass. Their oldest son is my daughter’s age, 2nd grade, and their youngest son is not quite a year.
As we walked across their lawn, we realized the kids weren’t just playing in the grass … they were playing with little dark creatures … with claws. “Ewww, what is that?” my daughter asked.
“Crawfish,” replied the father, quite happily. Crawfish in February? In Ohio? Yes, indeed.
“Want to hold one?” asked his son. My daughter wasn’t crazy about that idea, but kneeled down in the grass to inspect them. They were waving their claws around a little bit, but apparently they were cold, so they were moving slower than normal and wouldn’t be able to pinch very easily. She reached out, trying to decide if she could stand to actually touch one. “This one’s dead,” he pointed to one that was tossed a little to the side. She contemplated for a second, then looked again at the live ones, eventually reaching out to touch it.
As the kids checked out the crawfish, our friends, Louisiana natives, told me about his trip to the grocery that day. He had stumbled upon a completely unexpected crawfish display. Not new to crawfish, he asked if he could buy 40 lbs. at a discounted rate. The deal was made, and here we were, delivering Girl Scout cookies with impeccable timing.
“Ever been to a crawfish boil?” he asked. Nope, but I’ve eaten crawfish before. Definitely in New Orleans. Definitely in some etouffee … not sure other than that. “Well, come back in about an hour, bring beer, and try some,” he said. How could I pass up an invitation like that?
We got back into the car to finish our cookie deliveries. An hour and a half later, we returned with my son. My husband stayed home so our youngest could take a nap.
As we walked up the driveway, we were greeted with, “Perfect timing!” We met their friends and neighbors and watched as he dumped the crawfish from the big boil pot into an empty cooler. He let them sit in there for a few minutes as the steam rolled out into the cool air.
Meanwhile, he prepped a long table in the driveway with a disposable tablecloth and explained the crawfish boil … basically they are in the water for 45 minutes or so, and really only boil for just a few minutes. The rest of the time is for seasoning (with a special seasoning they buy in Louisiana) and so the vegetables can cook (we had potatoes, corn, mushrooms and onion).
Once the table was prepped, he dumped a bunch of crawfish and vegetables directly onto the tablecloth. We were then instructed to gather round the table. Then they gave us a lesson on how to eat the things. First you tear the head off (the head is really the bulk of the crawfish). Then you suck the juices out of the head (optional). I did not try this. But this is where most of the flavor is because the seasoning gathers in there. I took their word for it.
Next, you crack open the tail just below the first set of little claws and peel the shell off to get to the meat. Finally, enjoy. Wow. A-ma-zing. Not only were the crawfish delicious, but so were the vegetables. I sampled the potatoes and mushrooms. Sooo good.
I went to this crawfish boil thinking I’d have a beer, chat with everyone, and try a couple of crawfish. A couple turned into what had to be a couple pounds. Or possibly a few pounds. I’m not really sure. But I did learn, and am happy to share, that when you are hosting a crawfish boil, you should plan on three to four pounds per person. So it’s not like I totally lost all control and willpower. Okay, I guess I pretty much did, but it was still within normal crawfish boil parameters. It just wasn’t what I expected to consume that afternoon. Oh, and by the way, “make sure you try some of the gumbo in the kitchen.” Gumbo? Yep. Chicken and Andouille sausage (from Louisiana). Again … A-ma-zing.
The only disappointment that afternoon was that I couldn’t get my kids to try any of it. They were intrigued by the whole thing, for sure. But they weren’t about to put any of it in their mouths. Not even the potatoes, my daughter’s favorite. That’s okay. At least they got to see their first crawfish boil.
I went home completely happy, feeling like I’d just returned from a whirlwind vacation. I was re-living the last time we were in New Orleans … the food, the sights, the music. In my excitement I even attempted to explain Zydeco to my 5-year-old son, but when he looked at me with a blank stare, I mumbled, “I’ll have to pull it up on the internet so you can hear it.”
I now want to get back to Louisiana and New Orleans pronto. So, the debate begins. Do we do the trip we planned, closer to home, but places we’ve never been … or do we turn that into a long weekend and take a week to head south? Still debating … time will tell.