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“Very funny… It smells and looks delicious,” Cara said. “I’m impressed.”
“Much obliged, Cara. I can’t make many dishes, but I can surely boil the hell out of some shrimp. Now dig in, girl!” Coop encouraged as he sat down and tied his bib on. “Just throw the shells off to the side.”
“Do you have any cocktail sauce?” Cara asked.
“Cocktail sauce? You mean that stuff you Yanks put on seafood that hasn’t been cooked properly?” Coop retorted. “Take a bite and tell me if you still want some.”
“Look at you with all the rules,” Cara laughed as she bit into a jumbo gulf shrimp that she had just peeled.
Coop eyed her as she slowly chewed the slow-cooked crustacean, waiting for a reaction.
“Who said anything about cocktail sauce,” Cara said sarcastically. “Shrimp this good should never be ruined with that gunk.”
“There’s help for you, yet, Cara Knox,” Coop replied.
“Wow… this is delicious! It’s like each shell contains its own set of spices,” Cara raved. “I’ve never had anything like it up here in Cleveland.”
“Well, I do aim to please,” Coop said, as he also took a big bite of shrimp. “My parents used to have a boil every Sunday when I was a kid. We’d go down to the docks and buy 20 pounds of shrimp fresh off the boat from the Vietnamese fishermen.”
“That must have cost a fortune!” Cara implied. “Shrimp is like 10 bucks a pound.”
“No ma’am, not in Pass Christian, it’s not,” Coop corrected her. “We typically paid between 2 to 3 dollars a pound at the docks. Shrimping is a big industry on the gulf coast… or at least it was...”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Cara exclaimed. “I would eat shrimp every single day for that price!”
“Sometimes we’d throw crawdads in there, along with some blue crab if we felt like it. If we went fishing off the coast we usually had a bunch of Black-Tip Shark fillets in the freezer that we would throw on the grill, too,” Coop explained.
“Crawdads?” Cara asked, puzzled.
“You mean you’ve never sucked dat head and pinched dat tail?” Coop asked, referring to the technique used for eating a crawfish, knowing that his audience would have no idea what he was referring to.
“Excuse me?” Cara asked, eying him sideways.
“Crawfish? Mudbugs? Mountain lobsters? Up here, I believe they call them crayfish,” Coop said, mockingly emphasizing the latter’s northern pronunciation.
“You eat crayfish?” Cara asked, incredulously. “We used to catch those in the creek by my house. Ewww…”
“Don’t knock it til you try it,” Coop said. “They’re really good. If you like lobster, you’ll probably love crawdads.”
“If you say so…” Cara replied, still not able to shake the thought of eating one of the little critters she used to try and catch with her brothers in the many creeks of the Cleveland Metroparks.
“I almost forgot!” Coop announced abruptly, standing up. “I forgot to get us some drinks. What can I offer you? I have beer, wine, Barq’s, soda, bottled water, and a lifetime supply of Gatorade - thanks to my last endorsement deal.”
“I’ll have what you’re having,” Cara replied. “Any of those sound good.”
“Barq’s it is, then!” Coop said as he grabbed two clear glass bottles of Barq’s Famous Olde Tyme Root Beer from his refrigerator and two frosted mugs from his freezer, before rejoining Cara at the table.
“Wow, frosted mugs and everything,” Cara stated, “I must say that I’m impressed. Just one question, though. Why did you refer to it specifically as Barq’s instead of just saying root beer?”
“Well, where I’m from, there is no other root beer worthy of drinking,” Coop replied. “You see, Barq’s was invented in Biloxi, Mississippi, which isn’t far from my hometown. The owner was actually from Nawlins, so they like to claim that it’s from there, but we all know the truth. Most restaurants and sandwich shops along the Gulf Coast won’t even carry another brand of root beer.”
“Wow, I never knew... great food and a history lesson. I must say, I am impressed!” Cara responded.
“I’m full of useless information. Lots of time on airplanes and in the clubhouse between starts,” Coop replied. “How’s the corn?”
“It’s amazing! Everything is. The only problem is that I think you’ve ruined Red Lobster for me. There’s no way that I can ever go back there after this,” Cara said.
Coop took a long swig of Barq’s and smiled as he watched Cara eat. He loved that she was getting her fingers dirty and never once asked for a fork.
Cara, realizing that she was being watched, decided to change the subject as she raised the frosty mug to her lips.
