Crawfish, Crawdads, Crayfish.
Call em' what you may. To me they are baby lobsters.
Although, I do actually call them crawdads (and they don't actually taste like lobster)
On our trip down to Texas Boyd purposely drove through Louisiana to get himself a taste of the south. He got all giddy when he saw the sign "Crawfish Town"
So naturally we pull over to eat dinner.
So you would think going to a place called crawfish town would guarantee you eating some sort of crawdads, right? Wrong! Apparently they were "out of season" Boo! They are only out of season 2 months and we just happen to pick a month they decided to disappear.
(Do people in the south speak English? The waitress tried talking to us and I
just smiled and looked at Boyd. She tried to explain to us why we couldn't have crawdads for dinner. She probably thought I didn't speak
English. )
We settled for some Crab, other types of fried seafood, and . . . Frog legs.
(gag!- Boyd Really liked them, I couldn't even get myself to look at them. I even had a hard time with my crab eyein' me down and his creepy leg acting like he was going to pinch my arm any second)
Fast forward to the middle of the month. Boyd was craving some bad Asian food so we stopped by a buffet near our place. Boom! Crawdads! He was so happy!
"I'm going to eat you. . . "
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