kayfer

No more calamari for me, nomesane? And soon as the market opens I'm dumping my squid futures. All because Sean of the South's expose' has given a new meaning to the term Pork Butt.

Up early as usual, maybe a bit earlier than most mornings, but I'm dressed and ready because Kristen is to come by around six, and I'll drop her at her school, where middle schoolers are shortly to board a bus for an excursion to Atlanta. While she's away, we'll look after her car, and Linda and I are to drive out to her apartment at PCB and look after Pacey Kitty. He's a good cat, likes me, but when he lowers his ears and squints his eyes, try to distract him while you move your hand away as quickly as possible. Or, wear thick leather gloves.

Speaking of Sean, along with unmentionables he mentioned having Krab® rangoon at the Chinese restaurant. I no longer order that, because it's kayfer and if I want crab I don't want kayfer.

My first experience with kayfer was well more than thirty years ago, because my father was along and in good health, and he's been dead now thirty years since month after next, July 1993. We took my parents to Bayou Joe's and ordered the shrimp and crab salad. Never again: it was out of a gallon jug from Sam's Club, LeSeur Peas pea-size shrimp and kayfer. Kayfer is fox crab, kayfer krab; or, as Sean puts it, Krab® with a circle r. It's some kind of trademark registered water creature raised, I think, along with what fraudster cafes serve as grouper, in the benjo ditches of the Far East.

No, seriously, Kayfer is Imitation crab, made with surimi, a paste made out of finely shredded or pulverized fish. After the fish is minced, it is heated and pressed into shapes that resemble meat from a crab leg. The resulting imitation crab looks similar to the original crab in its coloring and texture. - - kayfer, now we're on to them, they've patented, trademarked, and market as Krab®

Anyway, my father was disgusted and angry at the shrimp and crab salad deception, and it was a dozen years before I went back to Bayou Joe's. They are fine now, is my experience, about the only place in town where when I order a fried grouper sandwich I do feel confident they're serving me nice, thick grouper, and not some thin, Southeast Asia fish-type product that some years ago Uncle Ernie's was cited, and reported in PCNH, for passing off as grouper. Basically, one learns don't trust nobody. If they think you're a chump, you get treated as a fool.

So there we go. Kristen will be here in a bit, I'll close and finish this last sip or two of hot & black.

RSF&PTL