Crawfish Boil

Six-thirty as I'm typing here, and I'm just back from V & B's St. Patty's Day crawfish boil next door....... they boiled up about fifty pounds of crawfish, along with sausage, corn-on-the-cob, potatoes, whole onions, whole garlic bulbs... plus all those Louisiana Cajun spices.

Because of the heavy rains we had here last week, they couldn't set up a table out on their backyard lawn, so a table was set up in the shade of their garage, and the boiler was set down on the driveway. Pot after pot of boiled crawfish and vegetables.... four pots in all, I think it was. While the crawfish were waiting for their turn in the pot, they got to swim around in a plastic kiddie-pool, which was funny in itself. The ones that died before they got boiled ended up being tossed into the trash. "Never eat a dead crawfish" is the Louisiana rule, we were told.

I had to smile at the table that was set up for the crawfish eating--- a long board set up on sawhorses, covered with newspaper (pages of The Wall Street Journal-- B said that was the most he's done with his free issues of that newspaper). V and B told us that the crawfish boil was casual, and that's exactly what it was. When the crawfish was ready to be eaten, B just picked up the basket out of the boiling water, let it drain a little bit, then turned the basketful of crawfish and vegetables out into the middle of the newspaper-covered table. No one even bothered to sit down... we all just stood up and ate the crawfish. (You break off the head of the crawfish, then either bite out the meat from the tail, or pull it out with your fingers. I used my fingers so I wouldn't get lipstick on the crawfish.)

I've bought frozen crawfish at Kroger many times, which I've used to make my crawfish bisque, but I've never boiled live crawfish before. Nor do I intend to start now. If I'm going to go to all of that trouble to boil shellfish, then I want to get more out of the shell than just a teaspoonful of meat. And that's just about all there is to eat in just one crawfish--- an inch-long comma-shaped piece of fish. I didn't taste the sausage (because I don't eat sausage), I didn't taste the potatoes (I'm not a white-potato fan), I didn't try the corn (I don't bite into corn-on-the-cob.... I do eat it, but I cut the kernels off with a knife and then eat the corn with a fork--- and if I ever did that in front of V, I wouldn't ever hear the end of it). But the crawfish were good, and it was indeed nice to be the invitee instead of the inviter, for a change. (Is that a word? Inviter? As in one who invites.)

My husband is still over there, talking to the guys and waiting for the last pot of crawfish to be boiled up and ready. I was just tired of standing around the garage and the driveway, and trying to stay in the sun instead of the shade. Plus I've just been busy all morning and all afternoon, and I'm ready to turn off the social-conversation button for the day and just relax till our company gets here tomorrow for our own St. Patty's Day celebration.

When I left V's house and said thank you and goodbye to everyone, the last thing I saw was their wooden table covered with crawfish-juiced pages of The Wall Street Journal. When I came here to our house, I walked into our dining room and looked at our table which took me nearly two hours to set and dress this afternoon.... ivory damask tablecloth, green and ivory china, the good silverware, crystal glasses sitting on green shamrock coasters, shamrocks on ivory napkins, a vintage green glass biscuit jar for a centerpiece, surrounded by green shamrock candles and candy dishes. Green glass shamrocks are hanging down from the crystal chandelier, and the sideboard in the dining room is filled with green votive candles and my shamrock-covered topiary.

Such a difference, from one St. Patty's Day celebration to the next. And when I think of the hours that have gone into the fixing of the food for our lunch tomorrow, plus the hours spent on decorating the dining room and dressing the table, shopping for the gifts in the favor bags.... well, having a simple crawfish boil with newspaper on the table with a roll of paper towels at each end doesn't seem like a bad idea.

But will I do a crawfish boil next year? Not likely.