It’s the first boil of the season, and the wind has knocked down the fence again. My sister and them have had to construct a barricade of backyard detritus so the dogs don’t get out.
Ashley is in from Mississippi, and she offers to drive all over ‘da Parish to find the Zatarain’s because Gerard only uses Zatarain’s. So do a lot of other people. Apparently. We’ve taken the St. Claude bus into Chalmette, so Ashley picks us up at the AutoZone. She is a member of what I like to call my extended step-family. This is the result of so many divorces, break-ups and bastards amongst my kin.
Ashley is my mom’s third husband’s oldest-son-from-his-first-marriage’s step daughter from his second (now defunct) marriage. It sounds tenuous, I know, but step is thicker than water in my kind of family, and it’s good to see Ashley again. She’s run away to my sister’s house with her mixed-race baby because, in the south, there’s still a problem with that.
But, I digress. We were talking about the first boil. Gerard is my sister’s man, and he is the master boiler. None of us know his recipe. Oh, we can piece together this and that: garlic, oranges and, of course, the Zatarain’s, but there’s also something secret and explosive in the mix of that brew. He already whispers bits and pieces of the recipe to his young son every time he boils. This is how it is passed down, and usually only to the boys because boys boil and girls pick the left overs for gumbo.
It’s still a bit cold for the first boil. Our sweaters and jackets will smell like crab tomorrow. Everyone has their way of getting rid of the smell. Lemons and salt. Rubbing your hands on stainless steal. Dawn dishwashing liquid (good for cleaning fleas off of little baby kittens too).
We eat and eat and eat. And, after, we eat some more; we crack and peel and pick to prepare for the gumbo that Gerard will make tomorrow.
Needless to say, boils remind me of childhood on the bayou. That salty, spicy taste I’ve known since before I could talk. The first boil of the season always takes me back through the years and into a more natural, primal state.
