Last weekend we went to a crayfish boil. Twenty five pounds of living, squirming, pinching crayfish went into a pot with some corn and sausage and came out dinner. The crayfish boil is quite an experience, because those little suckers are alive up until the the minute they drop in the pot and boil for dinner. There is a little bit of guilt involved in the experience, and a little bit of squeamishness, and a little bit of morbid curiosity as you look at the living crayfish crawling around in the cooler next to the boiling pot. And of course, there is a lot a bit of work to get those tasty just boiled tail morals ready for your mouth, followed by a lot of deliciousness.
We have only been to two crayfish boils in our lives, and at the first Sam was so funny, because not once, but twice during dinner he suddenly and violently threw a crayfish back into the pile on the table in fear and shock, imaging it to be alive. Which of course is very humorous, because these poor crayfish are dead as dead can be by the time they come out of that pot. He was much more reasonable at this dinner.
Eating crayfish is a lot of work. But, it does leave you feeling like you have burned more calories than you have consumed. Plus, it gets you back in tune with your food. And it makes for cute and funny photos and the ability to dissect a carcass in the name of science while eating dinner. All in all, a very satisfying meal.
We also had a bonfire. Paul collect twenty five (yes, twenty five) wooden pallets, and we burned them all in a blaze of glory. Apparently Paul learned that pallets are the best for bonfires from his dad, who also likes to build giant fires. Ironically, Paul's dad is a firefighter. Anyhow, the blaze was mighty and warm, and no doubt impressive.