All this talk about Mardi Gras got me craving all my cajun favorites from childhood. (I was born in New Orleans.)
Okay, so I left New Orleans when I was eight years old... so my memory of the cajun culinary cuisine is a bit fuzzy. When I think "New Orleans", I think of three really awesomely awesome things: Popeyes, King Cake, and Crawfish.
Why those three?
Popeyes fried chicken happened to be the first piece of meat I ever ate apparently.
(My brother ate steak and lobster as his first meaty meal and I ate fried chicken? C'mon Mom. Seriously?)
My mom told me that she would peel tiny pieces of fried chicken and place it on my highchair tabletop and I would grab the tiny piece with my entire hand and smear it all over my face. It's actually not unlike the way I eat fried chicken now. Well. Except for the highchair. I'm a big girl, after all.
I remember in Kindergarten during Mardi Gras, we would get to eat a piece of King Cake after nap time. Well, I never napped (I always untied my shoes as an excuse to get up and have my teacher tie my shoes, even though I knew good and well how to tie my shoes. Ms. Bailey eventually gave up and let me stay awake and paint on the easel in the hallway during nap time.) --so I never got King Cake.
Instead, my parents would buy a King Cake from the grocery store and I would poke through the entire cake to find the piece with the plastic baby inside.
(Do they still do that? It seems dangerous now that I think about it).
You can't live in New Orleans and not get invited to 10 billion crawfish parties. My family and I went to at least 20 billion in my 8 years of living there, and my brother and I inhaled pounds of crawfish. No potatoes or corn. Just crawfish.
I'm pretty sure we would win a crawfish peeling and eating contest. Pretty sure.
Longingly dreaming of spicy fried chicken,