Tips for a successful crawfish boil

Illustration By Jason Stout

Since moving to Austin, I have had the good fortune of befriending many Louisiana natives who have enriched my life with their culture, food, music, and unconditional friendship. Perhaps it's because their spicy food and laissez les bon temps rouler approach to life are similar to those of my own Mexican culture. Maybe it's my love for Saints football. Whatever the reason, I feel that I have become, over the years, a bit of an adopted Louisianan. And with this title comes a passionate devotion to our annual crawfish boils.

I went to my very first crawfish boil in Baton Rouge during Mardi Gras many years ago, where I witnessed a very drunk young man biting the head off a live crawfish, ô la Ozzy. This did not deter me from eating a few pounds of the cooked ones, heads and all. Through the years, I have learned there are many schools of thought regarding the proper way to boil crawfish, but there are also guiding principles that everyone agrees on. Everyone also agrees that it wouldn't be Mardi Gras without a proper crawfish boil.

First of all, you'll need fresh crawfish. Crawfish season is from late February to mid-May. There are three main places in Austin to get crawfish: Fiesta (3909 N. I-35, 406-3900), Quality Seafood (5621 Airport, 452-3702), and Sambet's Cajun & Fiery Foods (8650 Spicewood Springs Rd., 258-6410). Prices, quality, and availability will vary every season. All the necessary boil spices are available at these places, as well; Zatarain's, Louisiana Boil, and Swamp Fire are all good brands. And you'll need vegetables to go with the crawfish – traditionally whole red potatoes, corn on the cob, whole onions, and whole heads of garlic. We also add lots of fresh lemon halves for extra flavor.

Next, you'll need a boiler. Special crawfish boilers with basket inserts (36-quart, $39.99) and propane burners ($19.99) can be purchased at Academy. Crawfish boils are messy affairs, best suited for the outdoors. You will also need a large picnic table, plenty of newspapers to cover it, several rolls of paper towels, and a large garbage can or two, with a plentiful supply of bags. Of course you'll need lots of beer, preferably Abita Amber or Mardi Gras Bock, and lots of good friends.

Cardinal rule No. 1 is to purge and thoroughly wash the crawfish before boiling them. Shane Nelson, a dear friend of mine, suggests placing them in a plastic kiddie pool or a large ice chest, covering them with water, and dumping in a whole pound of salt. This forces them to purge themselves of impurities. Next, they can be placed in the basket insert of the crawfish boiler and rinsed with the garden hose for about five minutes to get all the seaweed and mud off. Nelson has been hosting an annual crawfish boil on St. Patrick's Day for about 10 years now in honor of his Irish "pawpaw," or granddad. Every year we boil about 100 pounds of crawfish and wash them down with ice-cold beer and plenty of Irish whiskey, while grooving to Zydeco romps and Irish drinking songs. This is a cultural food crossroads at its best.

Nelson insists that it is crucial to recruit people to help with the boil early, since usually by the third batch everyone's been drinking a fair amount of whiskey, which can lead to mishaps. One year, by the time we cooked the last batch, we ignored cardinal rule No. 1 and poured the crawfish right out of the sack into the boil, ending up with box-turtle-flavored crawfish. Not recommended.

Another thing I've learned from Nelson is the peeling method that his relatives in Southern Louisiana call the "Laotian method." Legend has it that this method was developed by Asian immigrants who worked in the Louisiana crawfish industry. In those days, they got paid by the piece rather than by the hour. True or not, it is the fastest and most efficient way I know to peel crawfish. The trick is to push the tail into the head, while at the same time giving it about a quarter turn before pulling it off. This loosens the meat from the tail, which can then be easily extracted with teeth or fingers while slightly pinching the tail, allowing one to eat more crawfish, faster. It also reduces the painful cuts and scratches that occur from peeling too many cayenne-coated crawfish.

Every year in mid-April, around the time of the NFL draft, our group of Saints football buddies has a crawfish boil in the park. Most of them are Southern Louisiana natives and have been boiling crawfish since they were old enough to say "whodat!" Jackson Browne (no, the other Jackson Browne!), one of our experts, suggests boiling all the vegetables first, including some celery and carrots, "to add depth and character to the boil water." After adding the crawfish, when they come to a rolling boil, he lets them go for about three to eight minutes longer (depending on size). He turns off the flame and covers them for about 20 minutes to "steep" them. Norm Wright, who is usually in charge of purchasing supplies, swears by the Swamp Fire spice mix, which is flavorful and plenty hot. Lots of fresh lemon halves are key.

New Orleans John and his wife Myra, a firecracker of a woman whom I just adore, like to throw in habaneros and other fresh hot peppers from their garden and always bring a superspicy cocktail sauce made with their homegrown habaneros for dipping. They also bring their greatest invention, a series of small wooden troughs that are placed on the table. When the boil is ready, the crawfish and vegetables are drained and poured on top of the wooden contraptions. This helps to keep the edible crawfish separate from the shells as they are discarded on the newspaper-covered table surface. Pure genius. Myra and I are always the last to leave the table.

Last but not least, you have to suck the heads. Don't let them sit there and get cold, either. Pick your crawfish up as soon as it is cool enough to hold, peel and eat the tail, crush the head slightly with your fingers and suck the contents. It tastes like a Cajun bouillabaisse, with a deep, concentrated seafood flavor. Then take a sip of your cold beer and repeat a hundred times, alternating with the veggies, preferably while listening to Dr. John or Beau Jocque. Aiiiiieeee!