OK. cool.

Crawfish, New Orleans, SEO, and Aqua Velva

Crawfish, New Orleans, SEO, and Aqua Velva

Trying something new. Writing this in Word Online. Why? Because, as my wife likes to point out, I am fickle.  

And she is right. I am loyal to nothing but her, Newports, and Aqua Velva. So, while Google Docs does anything I could ever want out of a word processor, I am trying Word because I am feeling like an adult today. And adults, as everyone knows, use Microsoft Office.  

Speaking of, I was looking at a Microsoft Surface today. Those bitches are dead fucking sexy.  Not that I am turning my back on my Chromebooks, but occasionally I like to Windows shop. <---See what I did there?  

I’ll be here all week. Tip your waiter.  

Allow me to digress for a moment please. Something has been on my mind.

It seems that in order to have a successful blog, I have to choose one genre and go strictly with that. Or, through the magic of internet web design, create separate pages within the shell of Each of these pages containing a very specific set of posts. Example: A page for food. A page for fuck off posts. A page for mocking internet things...and so on. I don’t know about that. I feel like that is excellent advice for someone writing about shit that can actually enrich someone’s life. I know that these fucking blogger-types are all moist in the crotch about finding ways to make their shit searchable.  

For instance, if I were a fucking lame-ass fashion blogger, and I wrote a product review on the newest line of Coach Handbags, I would, first of all, throw myself off a building...into an empty swimming pool...filled with bears...and the bears have knives...and I’m covered in honey...and spray-painted on my back is “bears are pussies.”

BUT!! Immediately after I got done with that, I would figure out a way to make my review important to the Google Gods. This will allow people searching for the new “Coach shit-holder" to find my review, thereby driving people to my webpage, and then, I am assuming, bring in advertising dollars...somehow.

I am sure that this sort of thing can generate tens of dollars a year, but I think it is not for me. Can you imagine the shitstorm that would occur if my scathing post about how anxiety is bullshit somehow went viral?

It would be a disaster.  

No. I prefer it to be just us. You and I, laughing at the stupidity of humans and being generally shitty people together.  

But today’s post is not about shitty people. It is about food.

Cajun Food.

It has been a while since I have done a food post. I usually only write about food when I am particularly frustrated with the shit I have been eating. ANNNNND here we are again. Pissed about the food at my disposal.  

So, I begin dreaming of food that doesn’t suck.  

Have you ever had the pleasure of visiting south Louisiana? I have. And let me begin by telling you that the shit they show you on TV is utter nonsense. Somehow, TV and movie people always manage to frame the southern part of Louisiana as this mysterious place of voodoo, romance, and fun. The ivy- and moss-covered buildings contain the promise of adventure. The cobblestoned streets are steeped in history. New Orleans, in particular, is painted with this generous brush.  

But that is all complete bullshit.  

New Orleans is the dirtiest, nastiest, most disgusting fucking town I have ever been in; and I have been all over the world. Bourbon and Canal Streets smell like piss and gym socks. The people are impoverished and fucking miserable thieving cretins. It is a goddamn cesspool. The whole town is sinking, literally sinking slowly into the Gulf of Mexico...and good riddance.  

But, the food! My God the fucking food is amazing.  

Boudin. It is a sausage made from chicken parts and rice. Heavily seasoned and typically grilled. Every gas station has their own boudin for sale. All of it is good.  

Crab Fingers, crawfish pies, chicken and biscuits, beignets, gumbo, jambalaya, alligator stew...the list goes on and on.  

The food is outfuckingstanding. French cooking techniques combined with Caribbean and Spanish influences. Add to that, the generational poverty of the area, and what you get is rustic food that is perfectly prepared in very old cast iron. Spectacular.  

I have a ton of recipes from friends in that area of the world. And I may end up sharing them all with you. But today it is crawfish etouffee.  

This recipe is one of my all-time favorites because it was my Grandmother's favorite. Every time I went to visit her, she asked me to make it.  

1 stick of butter

1 lb of crawfish tails. Peeled.

1/2 onion chopped

1/2 green pepper chopped

1 can cream of mushroom

1 can cream of celery

1 T. crushed garlic

4 cups cooked rice

Tony Cachere's Cajun seasoning.

Melt butter in large frying pan over medium heat. Sautee onion and pepper until pepper is soft. Season with Cajun seasoning. Add soups. No extra liquid.

Reduce heat to simmer.

Let simmer for 25 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Add crawfish tails and let it simmer for another 8 minutes. Another good stir. Season again.

When using Cajun seasoning, sprinkle that shit in until it is salty enough. When the salt is right then the heat will be right too.

Serve 3/4 cup over 1/2 cup of rice. And if you need directions on how to make rice I will politely tell you to read the fucking box.

OK, here is where I gush about the simplicity of this particular recipe. There is a way to make this dish that requires a good deal of time. Essentially, you make the mushroom and celery soups in the frying pan before adding the tails. But, it takes too long. Annnd it is easy to fuck up. Annnnnd I have done it both ways. This method is better. I don’t know why, it just is.

A good friend of mine, Kilroy, gave it to me. He is one hell of a cook. And if he makes it this way, who am I to judge?

Give it a try. Let me know what you think. Also, in reference to what I said about blogging earlier, I would love for you to tell a couple of cool people about what you and I do here. All I ask is that you don’t bring any fuckheads to the party. OK?

Oh and, cross New Orleans off of your “to do” list. That place fucking sucks.  

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