It's been four years since my last crayfish meal. For the latest feast, I didn't hop on a plane to Sweden. I just had to toodle in my car to Boiling Crab in San Gabriel Valley. I have to thank Johnny and Khue for serving as my guides in a night of sampling a smorgasbord of seafood, spices and other savory slime.
We started with a platter of oysters. Boiling Crab doesn't bother with any niceties. There are no plates, finger bowls and metal utensils to help you crack open the crustacean shells. You just get bibs, a roll of paper towels and a giant sheet of white paper that doubles as tablecloth and plate. The only sort of platter I spied was the one for the oysters (filled with ice, of course).
We squirted the ketchup for the Cajun fries right on top of the paper.
Miguelito and I decided to wear clothes that we didn't mind spilling food on (i.e., H & M).
This was the kind of meal that required you to put your hair in a ponytail. Stray strands would hinder maximum eating.
With a squeeze of lime juice and a dab of hot sauce, the oysters prepared our palates for the main course....
which arrived in a big plastic bag.
We didn't order the crabs that gave the restaurant its name. Instead, we asked for four pounds of crayfish and two pounds of shrimp. Hidden in the mess were a couple of cobs of corn. Everything was drenched in garlic and Cajun spiciness.
Extra flavor came in plastic containers: aioli and a salt-and-pepper blend with which we could mix freshly squeezed lime juice at the table.
It was truly a night of DIY dining.
The potpourri of cayenne pepper and paprika made the crayfish pop in intense crimson.
Unsated by our initial order of five pounds of food, we ordered two more pounds of crayfish and another of shrimp. This was the scene of the devastation at the end of the night.
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