Our friends had live crawfish shipped in from Louisiana and put out a fantastic lunch spread yesterday.
I've never had crawfish, but I was looking forward to trying, since I am a fan of all its relatives. It should also be said that I will try almost anything food-wise. I may not be a chef, but I am for sure a person who enjoys food of all kinds (I wish it was the other way around, truly).
It didn't go well. One guy (one of the cooks) gave me a couple demos on how to break the things open and get the "meat" out. (You can also suck the juices from the head, but I decided I wasn't up for that, no matter how daring I thought I was.) I piled a few of the little critters on my plate and found a seat.
I tried the sausage. I savored some well-seasoned potatoes. A little chicken. A little beef. But every time I glanced at the crawfish, THEY GLANCED BACK!!! I couldn't do it. Even if I could avoid their stare, they reminded me too much of scorpions or cockroaches, two of my least-favorite things in the universe. But, oh, their flavor was good! Somehow I got Kevin to do the dirty work. He wasn't interested in eating them, but had no problem preparing them for me. Go figure. Not a bad arrangement, really.
Admittedly, I was a tad disappointed in myself. This food adventurer might be growing wimpy the older I get. I hope it's not true.