When I moved to Houston, I heard about two main things that everyone looks forward to in the spring: the livestock rodeo and crawfish season. I am grateful I have gotten to cross these two things off the bucket list so far. And even luckier for me, both of these events have been incredibly delicious.
Last weekend, I was going to visit the Houston Crawfish Festival but due to the rain, it got cancelled. Instead, my friend and I went to BB’s Cafe. The restaurant is known for what they call Tex-Orleans cooking, or in other words, New Orleans-themed food with a Texas twist. We started off with these Tex-Cajun Virgin fries, which were recommended by the waitress. Extra crispy and salty shoestring fries were topped with queso, gravy and roast beef. I would not have normally spotted these on the menu myself because they sounded so rich, but a few bites into them I was already trying to imagine how to make them myself at home. Why did I kid myself into thinking I would not like them? After seven months in Houston, I could practically eat queso like soup. Plus, the tender beef basically melted in my mouth.
Despite a long wait and an incredibly crowded place, we got our crawfish in record time. Three pounds of these little guys looks daunting for two people, but in reality, you only eat a little bit of meat from their tails. This was the perfect amount. There is quite an art to dissembling the creatures. It requires just the right amount of pressure to open up the shell near the belly of the crawfish and a gentle finesse to pull the tender meat out of the tail. All the work is worth it when you dip the meat in butter and lemon juice, then lick your messy cajun-stained hands clean. You mustn’t forget to roll your corn on the cob in the leftover buttery/cajun/lemon juice on your plate or dip the red potatoes straight into an extra side of seasoning.
My tall glass of sweet tea with lemon was refreshing when the cajun seasoning had a little kick. However, I would not disagree with the choice of ordering a cold beer or bloody Mary for an afternoon brunch. This surely will not be the last time I get my hands messy with this delicacy. Next time, though, I will avoid wearing an ivory sweater that will easily show evidence of my cajun-indulgence.
Love food. Love self. Love life.