I remember the first time I ate boiled crawfish – or crayfish if you’re sophisticated and cling to proper terminology. I was 11 years old, and thousands upon thousands of crawfish were doing their best to escape the flood waters of 1973 by crawling to higher ground as a means of survival. Up to that point in time, my relationship with the little mudbugs had been restricted to a few gray mounds out in the watery area by our house where I tried to lure them out with a piece of raw bacon tied to the end of a string. To my knowledge, no one ate crawfish in our neck of the woods. They weren’t considered a food source.