Les Crawfish

by Gerald Michael Rolfe


Crawfish! Crawdads! Mudbugs! Hoooya!

I eat 'em hot and I eat 'em cold. I eat 'em fried and I eat 'em boiled. Put 'em in etouffee or put 'em in jambalaya. Put 'em in a pie or put 'em in a basket. Au gratin, cocktail, boudin and bisque -- it's all good, sweet thang -- put 'em up any way at all, just so long as you put them up!

The crawfish is the capital A in Authentic when cajun is the cuisine du jour. Cook 'em how you will and call 'em what you must, but these incomparable delicacies are the very soul of good down-home Louisiana cookin'. I love my mudbugs best when they're boiled whole in spices and served with a boatload of melted butter. Eating crawfish this way is a juice-down-the-chin, soggy-fingered good time! Whether gathered around the picnic table with family and friends at a bayou barbecue, or dining casually on a Bourbon street balcony at Patout's, nothing is more quintessentially cajun than a big steaming plate of crawfish in the middle of the spread.

While 'proper' etiquette is not my strong point, I defer to good manners when eating crawfish. I pick one of the hot little buggers gingerly off the plate and break it in half. Then, while letting the scrumptious tail drop temporarily to my plate (paper or fine china), and per strict adherence to custom, I place the broken end of the head to my lips, squeeze firmly, and suck the ever-loving goodness of lagniappe onto my joyful palate. Mmmm, the provocative zing and seductive aroma of cayenne, garlic, onion and white pepper, all intermarried with the animal goodness of god knows what's in that head! I am, at that cajun-inspired moment, in a state of gastronomic bliss.

Not one for extended reverie, however, when a full plate of food beckons, I immediately begin stripping away the shell from the tail on my plate. As the flavorful explosion from the head mellows into a happy satisfaction on my tongue, I dunk the coral and white tail into melted butter and then pop it quickly into my mouth. Ohhh, what a country! The texture of lobster, the flavor of New Orleans, the satisfying luxuriance of wonderful food!

Once started, the knowlegeably well-mannered partaker of boiled crawfish must continue to pluck the little darlings from the community plate and repeat the ritual of squeeze, suck, peel, dip and chew until either the food is gone or the appetite is sated (it had better be the latter!). This is why I come to dine. This is why life is splendid, and why living it is a gift.

And don't you dare worry about calories! This is why God and the cajuns invented zydeco. Dance it off, cher! If you loves yer baby like a pig love corn, then we gon' pass a good time! Laissez les bons temps rouler!