Sometimes, when I’m throwing a pity party for myself, I’ll express to Andrea how inconvenient it is that she now lives so far away. On the other hand, I’m glad she made that drastic move because that means I get to visit! I recently visited Andrea in May, before the heat really set in but most importantly before I missed out on yet another crawfish season. You see, as Andrea’s fellow East Coast friend, I could live on seafood alone. I love it all, slippery oysters, sandy mussels, and most of all “lobsta”, as Rhode Island natives say. So of course I was going to love diving into a bucket of crawfish, after all they are just mini lobsters, right? I salivated for weeks before my visit, incessantly reminding Andrea that I would be there within days and that she absolutely had to include a crawfish dinner in our itinerary. Kindly, Andrea and her hunky man, made my dream come true. However, when the tray of crawfish arrived at our table and was placed in front of me, my excitement quickly turned to panic.

The site of their ruby red bodies, darkened by loads of Cajun seasoning, piled on top of each other like so, made my stomach drop. You see, I live in New York. The truth about New York is that it is filthy! Making it the most desirable habitat for cock-roaches which render me totally limp and paralyzed in fear. A similar feeling set in when presented with my pile of “mudbugs”. Only then did I understand that vernacular. Andrea and Mathew looked scared for me but I couldn’t let them smell my fear so I started in. After all, I had been talking quite the talk.

Lets just say, I can cross eating Crawfish off my bucket list. It sure is a lot of work to get to that little piece of meat and all your left with is what I can only describe as a fire in my mouth! I might not be attacking another tray of crawfish anytime soon but I can’t wait to try another Southern delicacy.