Cajun Crawfish Quotes

Five pounds of crawfish in a metal bucket were soon placed down. The smell of lemongrass, Old Bay seasoning, and fish sauce hit the siblings all at once, and they breathed in the familiar, comforting scent. The coalescent beauty of a Viet-Cajun seafood boil was the magnum opus of the American South.

Like a clown car, they excitedly filed into a single line and followed the server straight into the bustling lunch crowd at Crawfish & Beignets. It was the siblings' neutral zone, a place where no fighting was allowed. Except this time felt more like the Last Supper. Seafood boils were a staple of their childhood, reminding them of all the best parts of being Vietnamese American in the South, and none of the bad. Though unspoken, the migration of the Viet-Cajun boil always lingered over them, reminding them of its roots in Louisiana, from other Vietnamese folks who resettled in Houston after Hurricane Katrina, and the resiliency that came with it.

Table of Contents Free Gift! Abbreviations Conversions Cranberry Sauce Make-Ahead Turkey Gravy Roasted Asparagus Roasted Vegetables Honey Glazed Carrots Double Cornbread Squash Casserole Crawfish Dressing Chicken Pot Pie Soup Chicken Stuffing Casserole Sweet Potato Casserole Corn Casserole Squash Dressing Bacon Cornbread Dressing Cornbread Stuffing Chicken and Dumplings Lemon Garlic Turkey Breast Turkey and Gravy Cajun Dressing Chicken Pot Pie Cornish Hens Meatloaf Marinated Chicken Roast Turkey Breast Apple Stuffed Pork Chops More Simple and Easy Recipes

Well, I was sure this handsome buck would follow us both out, but when I got back to the kitchen, there he still was picking at some leftover Cajun popcorn in a bowl on the counter. "Oh, don't eat that!" I almost screamed. "It's awful cold. And, besides, you need to dip it in garlic mayonnaise for it to be really good." "I think it's pretty good as is," he said, and suddenly I began to wonder if maybe I looked too heavy in the loose harlequin pants and metallic gold shirt I was wearing. "What's it called?" "Cajun popcorn." "But it's fried shrimp, isn't it?" "Yeah, though over in Louisiana they usually use crawfish." "Why's it called popcorn?" "I have no earthly idea. Maybe 'cause people it fast as popcorn." "What all's in it?" I was now rinsing and drying some platters with a dishcloth and in a hurry to put out some more nutty fingers. "You do ask a lot of questions, Mr. Webster," I kidded him. "Sure you're not some hotshot chef out looking to steal recipes?" He laughed and said, "Jerry. Call me Jerry. And no, I'm no recipe thief. I simply love good food and am always looking for new ideas." "Okay, Jerry, there's everything in that battered popcorn except the kitchen stove." "Like what?" he kept on. "Like garlic and onion and a few hundred herbs and spices- and lots of love." He smiled and asked, "Deep fried?" "Yep, in peanut oil, but not too long- no more than about two minutes. Gotta be crisp on the outside but not overcooked.

A roar of relief and belts of glee united the siblings. They rushed past the other Trầns, gloating. Like a clown car, they excitedly filed into a single line and followed the server straight into the bustling lunch crowd at Crawfish & Beignets. It was the siblings' neutral zone, a place where no fighting was allowed. Except this time felt more like the Last Supper. Seafood boils were a staple of their childhood, reminding them of all the best parts of being Vietnamese American in the South, and none of the bad. Though unspoken, the migration of the Viet-Cajun boil always lingered over them, reminding them of its roots in Louisiana, from other Vietnamese folks who resettled in Houston after Hurricane Katrina, and the resiliency that came with it.