How to Eat a Crawfish

Non-Fiction by Anna Sours

            The first time I heard my friend Amanda describe a crawfish boil, I was intrigued to say the least. Her family is from Louisiana, and when they moved here brought some of their traditions with them (no matter how bizarre they might seem to us). “Well,” she explained, “you take about 50 pounds of live crawdads. Then you put them in a big pot full of boiling water, corn, and spices, and cook them. They only have to soak for a few minutes, and then you get to eat ‘em!”

            How, you might ask, does one eat a crawfish? You might even be asking what exactly a crawfish is. That’s the simple part of it. A crawfish, crawdad, or crayfish is a crustacean, a kind of miniature lobster that you might remember playing with as a kid. They’re the type of creatures that you and your brother would search for in the creek on a family camping trip, then squeal with delight as your new little friends tried to latch on to your pudgy fingers with their ‘cute’ claws. Of course, the first thing to come to your mind is: “how can I get this delightful animal into my mouth?” No? Well, you don’t know what you’re missing out on, because however strange this tradition might sound, my first crawfish boil turned out to be fun and delicious.

            At the boil, I stood around a fold-out table covered with the previous Sunday’s comics. Amanda’s dad rushed past, hollering, “Hot crawdads comin’ through!” This must have been some sort of signal to our taste buds to start their salivation. He dumped the contents of his huge pot onto Charlie Brown and Garfield, the steam creating a sauna in the back yard where we were standing. “Dig in, everybody!”

            The problem, though, was that I had no clue how to do this. By careful observations of those hearty southerners around me, here’s what I found out:

            First, you pick your crawfish. It can be big or small; it just depends on the person. I like to change it up - sometimes I feel like the little guys don’t get enough credit, because they can be just as delicious. Amanda did tell me that the fresher they are, the tighter their tails are curled, but if you want to gamble with a guy with a pin-straight tail you might just get lucky.

            Next comes the task of dismantling this sucker. To do this you can’t be squeamish or faint-hearted, because it involves grasping the tail in one hand and the head in the other, then cracking the little guy in half. In order to have the smallest amount of remorse, try to forget that you are holding a creature that was once alive. Do not, under any circumstances, give your meal a name. This goes for any meal. You won’t be so hungry if you get a plate full of “Bambi” after your dad returns from a hunting weekend. If you want, you can tear off the legs too (of the crawfish, not the deer), but this is not necessary, and (in my opinion) way too much work. I would consider myself a more laid back crawdad-er because I like to go with the flow. It makes things more exciting.

            You are now holding two parts of what was once a crawfish in your hands. You don’t want the head. Except for some delicious juice the more daring feasters can suck out, there’s not much going on upstairs for these little guys. Toss the head onto the nearest comic – Sorry, Charlie. The tail is what you really want to get to. You have to dig in there with your fingers in order to peel off the outer shell that is indeed very good for protection. Congratulations on this success to Mother Nature, but hunger shall prevail this time. You can use many techniques for this, but I prefer to use my experience peeling hardboiled eggs. It seems to me the best time for a crawfish boil is right after Easter, everyone being in top shelling form. You might get frustrated at first, but try to focus on the end product - your trouble will be rewarded.

            With all your attention focused on shelling the crawfish, you might still frantically be trying to remove the invisible shards when you realize that what you have left in your hands is everything you hoped for. What was, only moments before (for us newcomers, a few minutes earlier) a ‘titan of the sea,’ a seemingly impenetrable fortress, is now a delicate morsel of pinkish meat. Its tenderness and wonderful flavor will have you wondering why you didn’t toss a few of these guys into mom and dad’s coffee water boiling on the camp fire in your younger years. If you had lived in the South, maybe this would have happened.

            I’d like to think that I am somewhat experienced in the crawfish field now. However strange I might have thought it was at first, it is definitely something that I could get used to. Whatever others may think of it, I love how Amanda and her family have brought their traditions with them and still remember their southern roots.  Hopefully one day I can have traditions like this with a family of my own so I can remember growing up in little old Medford (even though some might like to forget it), because where you’re from really is a big part of who you are.

Anna Sours, age 16, contact: siege14@charter.net