Crawfish Boil

If you’re ever near New Orleans in the spring, you’ve got to check out a crawfish boil. It’s all about the event. The food is secondary to the beer. And the beer takes a backseat (or more likely a driver’s seat) to the colorful arguments about how to boil the crawfish in the first place.

After grabbing a cocktail for the cook, take a look at the tub of live crawfish waiting to be boiled. Most are lying patiently waiting for someone else to make the decisions about what to do next. Others are squirming around vying for a little more crawfish real estate. Very few are trying to make a run for it. And when they do, some other crawfish will inevitably grab him and pull him back in. I’ve helped boil several thousand pounds of crawfish in the last seven years, and have yet to see more than a dozen make it out without someone blowing the whistle on them. Of course maybe a couple got by me wearing a disguise.

I’m fortunate to be surrounded by family and friends that encourage me to make decisions in my life, and then act upon them. Sure, they love having me around, but they understand my need to try new stuff and see new things. Maybe if crawfish would occasionally email pictures home, they’d get a little more support.