Our annual survey of seafood in Southeast Louisiana this year counts down the 33 best seafood species enjoyed most in our restaurants. If we were to break this item into two considerations--boiled crawfish and crawfish tails made into a sauce or a garnish--the boiled big s would be much farther down on the list. Boiled seafood in general is difficult for a standard restaurant to serve. Eateries that commit to serving boiled crawfish (and crabs and shrimp, too) find that doing so prevents much else from becoming specialties. People who go to a restaurant for boiled seafood are usually there for a long time, paying prices in the low end. And that's why for the purposes of this survey we focus more on every method of serving crawfish except boil. That offers a great range of cuisine. The best and worst quality of crawfish is the same thing: seasonality. When crawfish come into season (mid-winter through spring), it's cause for celebration. We revel in scarfing down dozens of them from big piles, still hot from the boil. We remember all the other good times had while eating crawfish. But the market doesn't like the long absence of crawfish imposed by nature. They want crawfish on menus all the time, because people--especially tourists--want to order it. And in a lot of crawfish dishes, the cooks with low standards can (they think) get away with using foreign, frozen, or other inferior, out-of-season crawfish. If all the crawfish out there were fresh Louisiana bugs at the peak of the season, crawfish would rank eight or nine places higher on this countdown. The flavor of crawfish is more subtle than is widely believed. It's not as assertive as shrimp, not as rich as crabmeat, not as distinctive as oysters. It shines brightest with the assistance of crab boil, cream, pasta, rice, or a good dark roux. And stock made with crawfish shells is a fantastic foundation for soups and sauces. The finest crawfish dish of them all is crawfish bisque--if it's made the old, rustic way. That's with dark roux instead of cream as a base, an intense crawfish stock, lots of whole tails, and balls of crawfish stuffing added at the table. Crawfish etouffee is almost as good. One of the best aspects of the dish is that, like gumbo, no two versions are alike. Most of them are great when made well with good crawfish. The spicy, dark etouffee at K-Paul's and the mild, light-roux etouffee at the Bon Ton couldn't differ more, but they're both terrific. Of all the truths about crawfish, the one that rings loudest is this: if the crawfish you are about to eat have shrunk to a size that will fit on your thumbnail, you are about to eat Rubber Eraser Stew. Unfortunately, a lot of crawfish dishes come out that way. We ought to treat them with more respect: cooking them with care, and eating them only when fresh, in season, and local.
Crawfish with Morel Mushrooms Chef Raymond Toups--then the executive chef of the Rib Room--did this recipe once on my old television show. Afterwards, so many people came in to order it that the kitchen nicknamed it the "TV special." It's a terrific combination of flavors. I wouldn't bother with it except in the height of crawfish season, March through June. It's best served with rice, but it's also good with pasta.
- 1 1/2 lbs. fresh crawfish tails
- 1 oz. dried morel mushrooms (or 4 oz. fresh, if you're lucky enough to have them)
- 2 Tbs. butter
- 1 Tbs. French shallots, chopped
- 1 tsp. chopped fresh tarragon
- 1 tsp. chopped fresh chives
- 1/4 tsp. salt
- Pinch cayenne
- 1 1/2 cups cooked rice
