I loved working at the Crystal River Inn. My mom and I actually stayed there multiple times before I started working there when we came to tour Texas State University, where I went to school. It also afforded me the opportunity to learn a lot about cooking. I still use recipes I learned there.
Anyway, the CRI was also responsible for throwing me in league with Alicia. Alicia was from Columbus, Texas, and her father (as she told me) was a "coon ass." I had no idea what that meant, and it terrified me. I didn't even inquire as to what a "coon ass" could be, because I didn't want to know. All I knew was that Alicia had to be from .... interesting stock. In addition to the "coon ass" remark, she had her own sense of language. She said "fet-ew-cee-nee" instead of fettucini. She said "dij-ih-cul" instead of digital. Despite my having corrected her about a hundred times, she persisted.
Now I knew all of these things - but after being initially shocked by them, I came to embrace the diversity. Thus, when she invited me to her homeland to attend a crawfish boil (which she boasted would involve 1,000 pounds of crawfish) how could I refuse?
After work, I ran and packed and we headed aft towards Houston. When I arrived, I was thrilled to discover what I had pictured was absolutely spot on. She lived in something resembling The Burrow where the Weasleys from Harry Potter live. Her parents' house, I believe, had initially been 2 bedrooms, one bathroom and a kitchen. However, as they had children I believe they just began piling things on. By things I mean rooms. And a screened in porch. There was odd Louisiana relics all over the place. It was as if I stepped out of Texas into a bayou swamp house. Nets, fishing rods.... Alicia even joked that we were having possum for dinner. I didn't think she was kidding, but luckily she was. I also discovered what a "coon ass" was - and it's someone who is cajun. Slang for a very cajun person.
Her dad arrived the next morning, having just made a run to Louisiana in a TRUCK. That was now COMPLETELY FULL OF CRAWFISH. I went out to the backyard to observe the crawfish activities. They had GIANT - and I mean GIIIIIIIANT vats in which they were planning to throw the crawfish in once they reached a boil. I'd say that they were the size of a large wading pool. And there were three.
Bigger than that, actually, if memory serves.
So the boil began at 6am. I watched the beginning, and went back to bed. When I awoke, there were a freaking billion crawfish, ready for the eating. Alicia's dad planned on selling two of the vats, and eating the third. So we got started. And I don't think I've ever been more full in my entire life. After all, they were prepared by a coon ass. And we all know how good coon asses are at preparing crawfish.
The next morning, we prepared to leave. I was so SO ready. But I decided, last minute, to go back and look at the vats. I just had to see them one more time - in awe of what they had produced. As I was observing, I looked down and saw him. One sole survivor of the crawfish genocide. A tiny little dude.
Naturally, I immediately decided he was mine. Out of the billions of crawfish that had been cooked, there was only one who was mischevous enough to escape and survive....and STAY next to what would have meant certain death for him. I decided he needed to be kept and cared for. He was a badass, after all. Next to-do, he needed to be named. So I named him. Tom Selleck Jr.
Tom Selleck Jr made the trek with us from Columbus Texas back to San Marcos, and lived in my sink for 2 months before I decided he needed larger grounds. Especially considering that in that time, he'd grown to nearly the size of the sink itself. I had cared for him well, obviously, giving him minnows and adding some plant life. Why did I not get an aquarium??? I'll never know. For some odd reason, it simply never occured to me. I guess it was because imagining a crawfish as a long-term pet is somewhat ridiculous.
So I headed down to the Guadalupe, said some words, and let Tom Selleck Jr. go. He was the man. I imagine he's still alive today, because that's what he does. Survives with badassery. He's probably struttin around some popular crawfish hang out right now, pickin' up chicks.
I miss you TSJ! And...you're welcome. Alicia invited me back to her house, but I never accepted. I'd had enough coon ass for one lifetime. And enough pet crawfish as well.
