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Crawdads

Crawdads

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Published by David1949
This is a short story I wrote for the back of the book "My Back Pages." It is the story of how a group of boys caught more Crawdads than they had ever seen only to have them ruined by listening to my Dad. Boiled Crawdads were not for us, fried was the only way to cook them.
This is a short story I wrote for the back of the book "My Back Pages." It is the story of how a group of boys caught more Crawdads than they had ever seen only to have them ruined by listening to my Dad. Boiled Crawdads were not for us, fried was the only way to cook them.

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Published by: David1949 on Oct 31, 2009
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial

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07/24/2012

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Crawdads
The picture on the front cover is a picture of me at Y. O. Hill’s stock tank. Thisstock tank was the center of attention for us when summer rolled around each year.This was the swimming hole as well as the source for our Crawdads. Everysummer we would spend hours with a piece of bacon tied to some string droppedinto the banks of the pond.On a lucky day we might get twenty or twenty-five large enough to keep. Thesewe called “blood pinchers.” The name should be self-explanatory. If you happenedto be on the wrong side of the claws, you would be certain to lose some blood.They could and did draw some blood from each of us. This was a commonoccurrence while craw fishing.We were usually satisfied with our daily catch. On one day we had borrowed myolder cousin’s seine. We had never used a seine before and we were surprised athow many crawdads we were able to catch at one time. There were more crawdadsin one or two tries than we had ever seen before. This was going to be a feast. Wecouldn’t wait to get to my house to fry them.Fried is the only way we had ever cooked Crawdads. We peeled the tails, dippedthem in corn meal then fried them until they were a golden brown. Add some saltand pepper and maybe some catsup on the side. These were the best! As I havewritten several times, our house was the usual meeting place for such events. Thisday was not the place to be on that day.If I remember the day, it was Jimmie, Ricky Glasscock, maybe Larry Trusty andKeith Jones and me. We must have had a hundred crawdads to peel. We hadeverything ready for the feast when my Dad came home. After seeing how manywe had, he told us they were better boiled. He had a recipe for boiling thecrawdads. I seem to remember a quite lengthy conversation about how to cook them. We decided to try my Dad’s recipe for the boiled crawdads.These were our largest catch and we were trying something completely differentfrom our normal method. My friends trusted the cooking to us. We put away thefrying pan and brought out the pot for boiling the crawdad tails. Dad was there tosupervise the cooking process. We didn’t like the looks of it from the start but itwas too late to turn back. After the boiling was finished, we each tried one fromthe new recipe. One small bite and every one of us were in agreement those werethe worst things were had ever put into our mouths. My Dad didn’t think so. He ate

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