Crawfish Experience
"You can't go to Louisiana and not have crawfish. It's just one of those things, right?" --Jacob Schapson, Ohio native
Few foods are as emblematic of Acadiana as [crawfish]. Once found only at the bottom of the bayou, the little lobster-like crustaceans appear everywhere now, dressed up on the dinner plates of fine food restaurants as well as in backyard boiling pots. If you're here and they're in season, then you'll want to sample what has become one of the most distinctive food experiences Louisiana has to offer.
In the local French, they're [ecrevisse]. You might've grown up calling them "crawdads" or "crayfish;" others refer to them as "mudbugs," or simply "bait." Anywhere else in America, you're more likely to find somebody putting a crawfish on a hook than in his mouth.
Crawfish have been a documented part of Louisiana's native culture dating back to the
American Indians and the original French settlers. But they were not always such a popular menu item, even here in Acadiana. In fact, until the mid-20th century, they were seldom eaten except in crawfish bisque, an old-fashioned and complicated recipe dish prepared in fancy New Orleans restaurants. And when poor farming families in Acadiana did occasionally catch and boil crawfish for their dinner table, it wasn't something they wanted to share with their neighbors. For a long time, crawfish was something you ate when nothing better was available.
It wasn't until they were specially featured at the Breaux Bridge Centennial Celebration in 1959 that crawfish gained widespread social acceptance. Finally, crawfish had become cool, and they've continued to be feted annually at the Breaux Bridge Crawfish Festival, a few miles east of Lafayette. With 75 to 105 million pounds of crawfish harvested on farms and in the [Atchafalaya Basin] each year, Louisiana's tradition of culinary innovation has produced every imaginable recipe for this freshwater shellfish, from étouffée to enchiladas, ceviche to sushi.
But in Acadiana, food is much more than the sum of its ingredients, and to truly understand and appreciate what crawfish has come to mean within this culture, nothing beats the backyard boil. For many here, gathering family and friends together around the boiling pot is virtually a sacred rite of springtime. Crawfish season dawns in December, reaching its peak during [Lent], and concludes in May or June.
It's not practical (nor very much fun) to boil only a few pounds of crawfish for yourself. So, by nature, a crawfish boil is a large community affair, a family feast. Crawfish boils are sometimes hosted to mark special occasions, such as a First Communion or a graduation. But more often, boils are simply a good excuse to gather a group outdoors in the cooler months where they can stand around and socialize, drink beer, or dispute the finer points of seasoning. To be charged with overseeing a big crawfish boil is no small honor; it falls to only the most experienced boiler in a family, a proven master who has refined his instincts for timing and taste.
A typical boiling rig consists of a portable iron gas burner attached to a propane tank and a tall pot or a converted beer keg, along with a colander or basket, which fits inside. The live crawfish go into the colander, along with an assortment of loose vegetables - traditionally, corn, small red potatoes, and onions. They're lowered into the pot of boiling water, heavily seasoned, for about ten minutes. After the jet of blue flame is switched off, the crawfish and vegetables are allowed to soak for a while, absorbing the spice.
At last comes "the dump." The basket is carefully removed from the water, hustled over to a picnic table covered in newspaper, and its contents dumped out: a steaming mound of reddened crawfish and yellow corn. Everyone elbows in for a spot at the table, raking over their share of shellfish and vegetables. Crawfish can be a little intimidating at first to the uninitiated, and peeling the tough shells can present a challenge. But a little patient picking is well rewarded: the meat is sweet and spicy, more delicate than lobster.
True, eating crawfish is messy. But that's part of the intimacy of the backyard boil. Here, the
prim and proper will go hungry. Why bother with paper plates when newspaper will do? Napkins? What's wrong with a roll of paper towels? So you got a little splatter on your shirt; everyone else does too. They'll still love you anyway.
Even without an invitation to a family backyard boil, visitors to Acadiana can still get a taste of the local tradition. Lots of Lafayette restaurants now serve boiled crawfish, as well as crabs and shrimp, in the same informal atmosphere. There are even drive-thru shops that sell freshly boiled crawfish and vegetables by the pound, bagged up and stapled shut, still steaming. All you have to do is gather a few friends, grab some old newspapers, and find a shady picnic table at the park.
Few foods are as emblematic of Acadiana as [crawfish]. Once found only at the bottom of the bayou, the little lobster-like crustaceans appear everywhere now, dressed up on the dinner plates of fine food restaurants as well as in backyard boiling pots. If you're here and they're in season, then you'll want to sample what has become one of the most distinctive food experiences Louisiana has to offer.In the local French, they're [ecrevisse]. You might've grown up calling them "crawdads" or "crayfish;" others refer to them as "mudbugs," or simply "bait." Anywhere else in America, you're more likely to find somebody putting a crawfish on a hook than in his mouth.
Crawfish have been a documented part of Louisiana's native culture dating back to the
American Indians and the original French settlers. But they were not always such a popular menu item, even here in Acadiana. In fact, until the mid-20th century, they were seldom eaten except in crawfish bisque, an old-fashioned and complicated recipe dish prepared in fancy New Orleans restaurants. And when poor farming families in Acadiana did occasionally catch and boil crawfish for their dinner table, it wasn't something they wanted to share with their neighbors. For a long time, crawfish was something you ate when nothing better was available.It wasn't until they were specially featured at the Breaux Bridge Centennial Celebration in 1959 that crawfish gained widespread social acceptance. Finally, crawfish had become cool, and they've continued to be feted annually at the Breaux Bridge Crawfish Festival, a few miles east of Lafayette. With 75 to 105 million pounds of crawfish harvested on farms and in the [Atchafalaya Basin] each year, Louisiana's tradition of culinary innovation has produced every imaginable recipe for this freshwater shellfish, from étouffée to enchiladas, ceviche to sushi.
But in Acadiana, food is much more than the sum of its ingredients, and to truly understand and appreciate what crawfish has come to mean within this culture, nothing beats the backyard boil. For many here, gathering family and friends together around the boiling pot is virtually a sacred rite of springtime. Crawfish season dawns in December, reaching its peak during [Lent], and concludes in May or June.
It's not practical (nor very much fun) to boil only a few pounds of crawfish for yourself. So, by nature, a crawfish boil is a large community affair, a family feast. Crawfish boils are sometimes hosted to mark special occasions, such as a First Communion or a graduation. But more often, boils are simply a good excuse to gather a group outdoors in the cooler months where they can stand around and socialize, drink beer, or dispute the finer points of seasoning. To be charged with overseeing a big crawfish boil is no small honor; it falls to only the most experienced boiler in a family, a proven master who has refined his instincts for timing and taste.
A typical boiling rig consists of a portable iron gas burner attached to a propane tank and a tall pot or a converted beer keg, along with a colander or basket, which fits inside. The live crawfish go into the colander, along with an assortment of loose vegetables - traditionally, corn, small red potatoes, and onions. They're lowered into the pot of boiling water, heavily seasoned, for about ten minutes. After the jet of blue flame is switched off, the crawfish and vegetables are allowed to soak for a while, absorbing the spice. At last comes "the dump." The basket is carefully removed from the water, hustled over to a picnic table covered in newspaper, and its contents dumped out: a steaming mound of reddened crawfish and yellow corn. Everyone elbows in for a spot at the table, raking over their share of shellfish and vegetables. Crawfish can be a little intimidating at first to the uninitiated, and peeling the tough shells can present a challenge. But a little patient picking is well rewarded: the meat is sweet and spicy, more delicate than lobster.
True, eating crawfish is messy. But that's part of the intimacy of the backyard boil. Here, the
prim and proper will go hungry. Why bother with paper plates when newspaper will do? Napkins? What's wrong with a roll of paper towels? So you got a little splatter on your shirt; everyone else does too. They'll still love you anyway.Even without an invitation to a family backyard boil, visitors to Acadiana can still get a taste of the local tradition. Lots of Lafayette restaurants now serve boiled crawfish, as well as crabs and shrimp, in the same informal atmosphere. There are even drive-thru shops that sell freshly boiled crawfish and vegetables by the pound, bagged up and stapled shut, still steaming. All you have to do is gather a few friends, grab some old newspapers, and find a shady picnic table at the park.