Cajun-isms

The forty days before Easter are a hugely significant and special time here in Houston. It is a time of reflection, self-sacrifice and spirituality. 

It's called Crawfish Season. 

And if you don't know what a crawfish is...

 

And they come by the million 

 

When you live in the Bayou City, there seems to always be an excuse to eat crawfish and celebrate the cajun culture. And when you grew up in land-locked Oklahoma, you have no friggin idea the significance of this bug-eyed creature. 


Naturally, I was intrigued. 


I got my first crawfish opportunity when my wasted law student neighbors brought a steaming plate of red critters to my door step.

At 11pm.

During spring break.

As an apology for partying like rock stars all week and keeping me up at night. 

"It's spring break! We're in law school! Whooo!"


Ask me if I'm impressed.


Clearly, I don't have a spring break.

Anyway....Unfortunately, I had already brushed my teeth but because of my crawfish interest, I took some in a Ziploc baggie to eat later and sent my neighbors on their merry way. 

"Thanks for the crawfish!" I felt like SUCH a Houstonian, and I was damn pleased with myself.

Turns out, (according to boyfriend) crawfish doesn't really work that way. You eat 'em pretty much 10 minutes after they've died and 'leftovers' don't apply. Feeling rejected, I threw my crawbabies into the trash.


Luckily, a couple weeks later, my crawfish dream became a reality. After long days at the pool...sometimes I get hungry!

**Feet might be larger than they appear

So me, boyfriend and friends went to git us sum crawfish!

Of course, they are little crawfish experts. But I was PUMPED about this new experience and desperate eager to feel like a real Houstonian and finally be part of crawfish culture.

So crawfish we ate. 

And ate. 


And ate. 

And ate. 

I got to tell you, taste-wise, I was pretty under-whelmed. But for me, this was a status symbol. Just another step in assimilating into the culture of my new city. 


Then my curiosity expanded a little...So with crawfish meat stuffed in both of my cheeks, I start asking questions.


"So, what are crawfish? Like where do they come from?


"Like where do they live?"


"Yeah, in the ocean or what?"

"Um...the bayou? They live in the mud. Ever heard of mud bugs?"

"BLECHHHHHHHHHHHHAPDHUCK PARFFFFFFFF. WHAT."


"Yeah, they're actually pretty dirty little things."


"Oh. my. hell."


And this point, I'm over it. I see a plate full of red shiny steming crawfish in front of me and all I can think about are 'mud bugs' which to me, might as well be 'cockroaches.'

I think I'm going to be sick.


All further crawfish exploration has come to a complete halt. 


Do you know what doesn't live in the mud, is super delicious and totally predictable?

Sprinkles cupcakes. 


I arrest my case.