Shrimp Boil Quotes

If you try to make a shrimp boil, but the bag of spices bursts, and so you just toss it in along with whatever spices you can find in the pantry--you can make homemade pepper spray. Unintentionally. And everyone at your dinner party will run outside for the next hour, coughing and tearing up as if they've been maced, because technically they kind of have been, because mace was one of the spices I found in the panty. I blame whoever makes spice out of mace, and I remind my gasping dinner guests that even if I did mace them, I did it in an old fashioned, homemade, Martha Stewart sort of way. With love.

pulled into my convenient neighborhood fast food restaurant. I ordered shrimp salad, onion rings, and a beer. The shrimp were straight out of the freezer, the onion rings soggy. Looking around the place, though, I failed to spot a single customer banging on a tray or complaining to a waitress. So I shut up and finished my food. Expect nothing, get nothing.

I never cared for red headed men. I think they look like shrimp boiled to peel.

Also, if you try to make a shrimp boil but the bag of spices bursts and so you just toss it all in along with whatever spices you can find in the pantry, you can make homemade pepper spray.

Creole Sauce ... This sauce is fine on cooked shrimps, fish, or meat, disguises leftovers, and will even make boiled tripe taste less like bath towels.

she says, "Well, I hope you're making good use of youth." Less, cross-legged on his towel and pink as a boiled shrimp:" I don't know." She nods, "You should waste it." "What's that?" "You should be at the beach, like today. You should get stoned and drunk and have loads of sex." She takes another drag off her cigarette. "I think the saddest thing in the world is a twenty-five-year-old talking about the stock market. Or taxes. Or real estate, goddamn it! That's all you'll talk about when you're forty. Real estate! Any twenty-five-year-old who says the word refinance should be taken out and shot. Talk about love and music and poetry. Things everyone forgets they ever through were important. Waste everyday, that's what I say.

Finally, we would have been offered either a spring takiawase, meaning "foods boiled or stewed together," or a wanmori (the apex of a tea kaiseki meal) featuring seasonal ingredients, such as a cherry blossom-pink dumpling of shrimp and egg white served in a dashi base accented with udo, a plant with a white stalk and leaves that tastes like asparagus and celery, and a sprig of fresh sansho, the aromatic young leaves from the same plant that bears the seedpods the Japanese grind into the tongue-numbing spice always served with fatty eel.

He sat astonished in front of the menu, as if he had never seen one before. There were pages of dead things – cows, shrimps, pigs, oysters, lambs – stretched out like a casualty list, accompanied by a brief description of how they had been treated since they died – skewered, grilled, smoked, and boiled. Christ, if they thought he was going to eat these things they must be mad.

The Chinese parsley, too, he chopped up finely. He peeled the shrimp and washed them at the sink. Spreading a paper towel, he laid the shrimp out in neat rows, like troops in formation. When the edamame were finished boiling, he drained them in a colander and left them to cool. Next he warmed a large frying pan and dribbled in some sesame oil and spread it over the bottom. He slowly fried the chopped ginger over a low flame.

Tengo chopped a lot of ginger to a fine consistency. Then he sliced some celery and mushrooms into nice-sized pieces. The Chinese parsley, too, he chopped up finely. He peeled the shrimp and washed them at the sink. Spreading a paper towel, he laid the shrimp out in neat rows, like troops in formation. When the edamame were finished boiling, he drained them in a colander and left them to cool. Next he warmed a large frying pan and dribbled in some sesame oil and spread it over the bottom. He slowly fried the chopped ginger over a low flame.

She says, “Well, I hope you’re making good use of youth.” Less, cross-legged on his towel and pink as a boiled shrimp: “I don’t know.” She nods. “You should waste it.” “What’s that?” “You should be at the beach, like today. You should get stoned and drunk and have loads of sex.” She takes another drag off her cigarette. “I think the saddest thing in the world is a twenty-five-year-old talking about the stock market. Or taxes. Or real estate, goddamn it! That’s all you’ll talk about when you’re forty. Real estate! Any twenty-five-year-old who says the word refinance should be taken out and shot. Talk about love and music and poetry. Things everyone forgets they ever thought were important. Waste every day, that’s what I say.

The scent of the spicy squid is almost too much to handle!" First we start with bite-size chunks of squid sautéed in some olive oil and squid ink... Once the flavors have fully melded together, in goes a generous splash of white wine to flambé them! Then some cabbage and onion for sweetness! Tomatoes for a little zing! And finally... the secret ingredient! "What the heck? Look at that giant needle!" "You're not going to use that on the food, are you?!" We convinced a local restaurant to let us have their huge pile of leftover shrimp heads and seafood shells. By boiling it all down, we infuse all their savory umami goodness and richness into olive oil... ... making a big batch of Hayama's special red olive oil! Using a cooking injector, we inject a dose right into the yolk of a soft-boiled egg, aaand... PLOOP

But your lolas took offense at being called witches. That is an Amerikano term, they scoff, and that they live in the boroughs of an American city makes no difference to their biases. Mangkukulam was what they styled themselves as, a title still spoken of with fear in their motherland, with its suggestions of strange healing and old-world sorcery. Nobody calls their place along Pepper Street Old Manila, either, save for the women and their frequent customers. It was a carinderia, a simple eatery folded into three food stalls; each manned by a mangkukulam, each offering unusual specialties: Lola Teodora served kare-kare, a healthy medley of eggplant, okra, winged beans, chili peppers, oxtail, and tripe, all simmered in a rich peanut sauce and sprinkled generously with chopped crackling pork rinds. Lola Teodora was made of cumin, and her clients tiptoed into her stall, meek as mice and trembling besides, only to stride out half an hour later bursting at the seams with confidence. But bagoong- the fermented-shrimp sauce served alongside the dish- was the real secret; for every pound of sardines you packed into the glass jars you added over three times that weight in salt and magic. In six months, the collected brine would turn reddish and pungent, the proper scent for courage. unlike the other mangkukulam, Lola Teodora's meal had only one regular serving, no specials. No harm in encouraging a little bravery in everyone, she said, and with her careful preparations it would cause little harm, even if clients ate it all day long. Lola Florabel was made of paprika and sold sisig: garlic, onions, chili peppers, and finely chopped vinegar-marinated pork and chicken liver, all served on a sizzling plate with a fried egg on top and calamansi for garnish. Sisig regular was one of the more popular dishes, though a few had blanched upon learning the meat was made from boiled pigs' cheeks and head.

His nose brought him back to his senses. As he opened the door to the apartment he was greeted by aromas from the kitchen: something roasting, perhaps pork; and garlic, so pervasive it suggested that an entire field of garlic had been seized and tossed into the oven along with the pork. He hung up his jacket, remembered that he had left his briefcase in his office and shrugged off the thought. He paused at the door to the kitchen, hoping to find his family already seated at the table, but the room was empty, except for the garlic, the odour of which seemed to be coming from a tall pot boiling over a low flame. Devoting his entire attention to the smell, he attempted to remember where he had smelled it before. He knew it was familiar, as a melody is familiar even when a person cannot remember the piece from which it comes. He tried to separate the scents: garlic, tomato, a touch of rosemary, something fishy like clams or shrimp – probably shrimp – and, perhaps, carrots. And the garlic, a universe of garlic. He summoned up the sensation he had experienced in the office, of his spirit being steeped in misery. He breathed deeply, hoping that the garlic would drive the misery out. If it could drive away vampires, then surely it could work its herbal magic against something as banal as misery.

As I started to play two Mexican busboys dressed in fancy green Shamrock Hilton green uniforms rolled out a huge fifty gallon tub filled to the rim with boiled shrimp. They parked it on the dance floor just two feet in front of me. Two feet! I could have reached out and grabbed a handful of shrimp as I was playing. I was annoyed to be singing to a tub of shrimp.

SHRIMP PAELLA Serves 4 Prep time: 10 minutes Cook time: 25 minutes DAIRY-FREE | GLUTEN-FREE | QUICK & EASY Paella is the national dish of Spain. It usually consists of saffron-scented rice cooked with vegetables and topped with a mixture of seafood, sausage, and other meats. This simplified version includes shrimp and peas. A paella pan is the ideal cooking vessel, but a large cast-iron skillet is a fine substitute. 2 tablespoons olive oil 1 medium onion, diced 1 red bell pepper, diced 3 cloves garlic, minced Pinch of saffron (about 8 threads) ¼ teaspoon hot paprika 1 teaspoon salt ½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper 3 cups chicken broth, divided 1 cup short-grain white rice 1 pound peeled and deveined large shrimp 1 cup frozen peas, thawed 1. Heat the oil in a wide, heavy skillet set over medium heat. Add the onion and bell pepper and cook, stirring frequently, until the vegetables are softened, about 6 minutes. Add the garlic, saffron, paprika, salt, and pepper and stir to mix. Stir in 2½ cups of broth, and the rice. 2. Bring the mixture to a boil, then lower the heat to low, cover, and simmer until the rice is nearly cooked through, about 12 minutes. Scatter the shrimp and peas over the rice and add the remaining ½ cup of broth. Place the lid back on the skillet and cook for about 5 minutes more, until the shrimp are just cooked through. Serve immediately.

SODIUM 407 mg CARBOHYDRATES 12.1 grams SUGARS 3.5 grams FIBER 0.4 gram shrimp with polenta Makes 6 2¾ cups water 1 cup cornmeal Salt and pepper 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, divided 1 small clove garlic, chopped ¾ pound shrimp, peeled 1 teaspoon fresh rosemary 2 teaspoons Worcestershire sauce 1 teaspoon lemon juice 1 teaspoon cornstarch 1 tablespoon chopped fresh parsley Jumbo 1. Bring water to a boil then add cornmeal and dash of salt. Reduce heat to low and simmer for about 15 minutes, until thick. 2. Stir in 1 tablespoon butter. Take off heat and set polenta aside.

Risotto with Seafood 2 bay leaves 1 carrot, chopped 2 small onions: 1 chopped, 1 minced 3 (1-pound) lobsters 1/3 cup olive oil 3 tablespoons tomato paste 2 cups Arborio rice 1½ cups white wine (dry) 2 tablespoons butter 2 pounds medium shrimp, peeled 1 pound scallops Fill pot with water sufficient to cover 3 lobsters. Add bay leaves, carrot, chopped onion. Bring to a boil, add lobsters, and cook 10 minutes. Reserve water the lobsters were cooked in. Cool lobsters and remove meat. Cook minced onion in olive oil until translucent; add tomato paste until blended. Then add rice. Slowly add white wine and an equal amount of lobster water. Continue stirring and adding liquid as rice cooks, 20 minutes or so. Melt butter in a separate pan. Add shrimp; cook until pink. Remove shrimp and add scallops; sear until golden. Add shrimp and lobster to the risotto pan. Fold in. Season to taste.

½ pound Key West or Stonington pink shrimp 1 small mild onion, diced 1 stalk celery, diced 1 tablespoon capers 1 tablespoon chopped fresh dill 1 tablespoon mayonnaise Boil the shrimp until just pink. Drain, then

Cauliflower, Coconut, and Turmeric Soup Serves: 4 ½ cup unsweetened shredded coconut 1 teaspoon chopped fresh ginger 1 cup water 1 medium onion, chopped 4 cloves garlic, chopped 3 cups sliced shiitake mushrooms 1 head cauliflower, cut into pieces 4½ cups low-sodium or no-salt-added vegetable broth ½ teaspoon turmeric ½ teaspoon ground coriander ¼ cup raw macadamia nuts ¼ cup raw walnuts 1 bunch kale, tough stems removed, chopped ½ cup shredded cooked chicken or ½ cup raw chopped shrimp, optional (see Note) Blend coconut, ginger, and water in a high-powered blender until smooth and creamy. In a soup pot, heat 2 to 3 tablespoons water and water-sauté onion and garlic for 2 minutes, then add mushrooms and sauté until onions and mushrooms are tender. Add blended coconut mixture, cauliflower, vegetable broth, turmeric, and coriander. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, cover, and simmer for 15 minutes or until the cauliflower is tender. In a high-powered blender, blend two-thirds of the soup liquid and vegetables with the macadamia nuts and walnuts until smooth and creamy. Return to the pot and reheat. Steam the kale until wilted and just tender, about 6 to 8 minutes. Divide steamed kale into four soup bowls and serve the soup on top. For added crunch, top with Crispy Chickpeas (page 328). Note: If desired, add chicken or shrimp after soup is blended and returned to the soup pot. Add ½ cup cooked shredded chicken and reheat or add ½ cup chopped raw shrimp and simmer for 3 to 4 minutes or until shrimp turns pink. PER SERVING: CALORIES 305; PROTEIN 9.3g; CARBOHYDRATE 29g; TOTAL FAT 19.7g; SATURATED FAT 8.1g; SODIUM 246mg; FIBER 9.1g; BETA-CAROTENE 7728mcg; VITAMIN C 175mg; CALCIUM 205mg; IRON 3.8mg; FOLATE 123mcg; MAGNESIUM 94mg; ZINC 1.7mg; SELENIUM 6.6mcg

A mantis shrimp was provoked by a researcher, and the animal punched its aquarium wall, shattering the glass and flooding the office. Turns out the mantis shrimp's punch is so fast, it boils the water around it when delivered.

TO MAKE THE GRITS In a medium saucepan, bring 3 cups of water to a boil over high heat and stir in the grits and salt. Bring back to a boil, stirring occasionally, then reduce the heat to low, stir in the butter, and simmer for about 15 minutes. The grits will absorb all the water, so you will need to stir them occasionally, and you can add more water if they become too thick. The grits are easy to keep warm on very low heat, just adding water when needed, but you must stir them every now and then to keep them from sticking to the bottom or clumping. TO MAKE THE SHRIMP In a large skillet or sauté pan, combine the olive oil and butter over medium-high heat until the butter is melted. Add the onion and green pepper and sauté until they begin to soften, about 4 minutes. Add the garlic and cook for 1 more minute. Stir in the tomatoes and their liquid, the Cajun seasoning, and the tomato paste. Cook for 2 to 3 minutes and add the shrimp, stirring for about 2 minutes, until the shrimp turn pink. Add the water and

I can tell right away by looking at you what you want to eat," he says. "I can tell how many brothers and sisters you have." After divining my favorite color (blue) and my astrological sign (Aquarius), Nakamura pulls out an ivory stalk of takenoko, fresh young bamboo ubiquitous in Japan during the spring. "This came in this morning from Kagumi. It's so sweet that you can eat it raw." He peels off the outer layer, cuts a thin slice, and passes it across the counter. First, he scores an inch-thick bamboo steak with a ferocious santoku blade. Then he sears it in a dry sauté pan until the flesh softens and the natural sugars form a dark crust on the surface. While the bamboo cooks, he places two sacks of shirako, cod milt, under the broiler. ("Milt," by the way, is a euphemism for sperm. Cod sperm is everywhere in Japan in the winter and early spring, and despite the challenges its name might create for some, it's one of the most delicious things you can eat.) Nakamura brings it all together on a Meiji-era ceramic plate: caramelized bamboo brushed with soy, broiled cod milt topped with miso made from foraged mountain vegetables, and, for good measure, two lightly boiled fava beans. An edible postcard of spring. I take a bite, drop my chopsticks, and look up to find Nakamura staring right at me. "See, I told you I know what you want to eat." The rest of the dinner unfolds in a similar fashion: a little counter banter, a little product display, then back to transform my tastes and his ingredients into a cohesive unit. The hits keep coming: a staggering plate of sashimi filled with charbroiled tuna, surgically scored squid, thick circles of scallop, and tiny white shrimp blanketed in sea urchin: a lesson in the power of perfect product. A sparkling crab dashi topped with yuzu flowers: a meditation on the power of restraint. Warm mochi infused with cherry blossoms and topped with a crispy plank of broiled eel: a seasonal invention so delicious it defies explanation.

After I steamed four giant clams over a skillet of sake, Stephen ripped out the meat and hacked it into chunks. With cupped hands, he scooped up the chewy bits and threw them in a bowl. Then he stirred in spicy red-and-white radish wedges and a warm dressing of wasabi, sugar, and sweet white miso that I had stirred in a small saucepan over a low flame until it became thick and shiny. Following his directions, I spooned the golden clams back into their shells. Stephen garnished them with a pink-and-white "congratulatory" flower of spongy wheat gluten. "Precious," he said, winking at me. Next, we made sea urchin- egg balls, first blending creamy lobes of sea urchin with raw egg yolk and a little dashi. Stephen cooked the mixture until it formed a stiff paste and then pressed it through a sieve. I plopped a golden dollop in a clean damp cloth and flattened it into a disc. In the center I put three crescents of lily bulb tenderized in salt water. "Try one," urged Stephen, handing me a wedge of lily bulb. It was mealy and sweet, kind of like a boiled cashew. Stephen brought together the four corners of the damp cloth and twisted it gently to create a bubble of eggy sea urchin paste stuffed with lily bulb. When unveiled, it looked like a Rainier cherry. I twisted out nineteen more balls, which we later arranged on fresh green leaves draped across black lacquer trays. Next, we impaled several fat shrimp on two metal skewers, sending one rod through the head and the other through the tail. We grilled the grayish pink bodies until they became rosy on one side and then flipped them over until they turned opaque. Stephen painted golden egg yolk for prosperity over the juicy crustaceans and returned them to the grill until they smoldered and charred.

Waiters carried trays of Campari spritz cocktails that looked like glowing red orbs, served with slices of fresh orange, and guests nibbled on canapés as they visited the different tables covered in decadent displays: seafood towers filled with shrimp, snow crab, oysters, clams, and freshly boiled langoustine tails, six large copper pots filled with different kinds of risotto simmering at a low temperature, intricate, multicolored stained-glass raviolis stuffed with smoked salmon and cream cheese, and a bread display that looked like an abstract sculpture.

Claude’s Gumbo 2 sticks unsalted butter 2 cups all-purpose flour 2 red bell peppers, chopped medium fine 1 white onion, chopped medium fine 4 celery stalks, chopped medium fine 3 cups chopped okra 2 tablespoons good Creole seasoning 1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper 1 tablespoon red pepper flakes 1 tablespoon chili powder 1 teaspoon dried thyme 2 to 3 tablespoons minced garlic 4 bay leaves 1 jalapeño, minced 1 to 3 serrano peppers, minced (optional; add if nuclear-level spiciness is desired) Salt 2 quarts chicken stock 11/2 pounds andouille sausage, cut into 1/4-inch-thick slices 6 to 10 ounces clam meat, with its liquid 31/2 pounds boneless skinless chicken thighs, pan-seared, browned, and cooked through 1 pound shrimp, shelled, deveined, and pan-seared Hot sauce White rice, cooked according to package directions In a large saucepan, melt the butter over low heat. Once the butter is melted, add about 1/2 cup of the flour, stirring vigorously for 1 minute to make a roux. Slowly add the remaining flour 1/2 cup at a time, stirring constantly to ensure a smooth consistency. Continue cooking for 25 to 35 minutes, until the roux is deep brown, adding more butter or flour if necessary to maintain the consistency. Once the roux is ready, add the bell peppers, onion, celery, okra, Creole seasoning, black pepper, red pepper flakes, chili powder, thyme, garlic, bay leaves, jalapeño, and serrano peppers, if using, and a generous pinch of salt. Stir till well combined. Begin adding the chicken stock 1 cup at a time, stirring well. When all the stock has been added, the sauce should thickly coat the back of a spoon but not be porridgelike. Add the andouille sausage, clams with liquid, and chicken. Stir thoroughly, reduce heat to low or medium-low on the smallest burner, and simmer at least 60 minutes, stirring periodically. Add water or additional chicken stock if the gumbo boils too low or starts sticking to the bottom of the pot. The gumbo should have the texture of a thick soup and pour easily from the spoon. About 10 minutes before serving, add the shrimp and stir well. Add hot sauce to taste and additional peppers (ground or fresh) if more spiciness is desired, and serve over rice. Eat when the spirit is raw and the eyes are overflowing, while listening to “Cry” by Johnnie Ray.