Sunday, July 14, 2013.
Lightning And Stoppages. Crabby Shack's Poor Boys.
This has been a very rainy year. Lately, we are seeing more lightning that I remember ever being wary of. A big bolt shot down and up across the street, but nothing happened other than my having to cut my daily walk short. I read somewhere recently that eight out of ten people hit by lightning are men.
Also more in the realm of men than women: our kitchen sink is clogged. It proved difficult to dislodge, being far down the line from the sink and unreachable even with a snake (a well-named tool).
Mary Ann made a call on Keith Young (of the steakhouse) earlier this week. Keith said that even though it seemed to me that nobody at his other restaurant--Crabby Shack, a seafood house in Madisonville--knew that I had been there last week, in fact they did know, and he thanked us for coming.
He also told Mary Ann that I really ought to try his roast beef poor boy. Which was enough for MA to return to the Crabby Shack this week. Mary Leigh complained that there was nothing there she liked to eat except spaghetti and meatballs, and she had that last week.
We started with stuffed shrimp, made strangely. The stuffing was rolled up into a ball around the shrimp and fried. This wouldn't have been a problem, except that the shrimp still had tails. I didn't expect that, and had to extract it from the mouthful in an indelicate way. It tasted okay, but they need to rethink this.
After some nice salads, we assayed the poor boy side of the menu. Mary Ann and I agreed that the roast beef sammidge was indeed very good, but that it would be even better if something closer to New Orleans French bread had ben used instead of the breadier, supermarket-style loaf. Mary Leigh, who ate a meatball and red gravy poor boy, didn't have a feeling about that one way or the other.
All this fell under the heading of New-Restaurant Issues. Crabby Shack has only been open a few months, and it has been doing such a tremendous business that I'm sure a lot of things are still in flux. Which is exactly why I wait longer than Mary Ann likes before I go to a new place.
But I can't tell her no. She wouldn't listen even if I did.
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