"Crayfish is Here" - the marquis on a local restaurant read. I had to think about that one. Now, I was familiar with a mess of collards, batch of chicken, pot of grits, heap'n of BBQ, slab of ribs, and a hunk of corn bread. However, down here, Crayfish generally don't travel alone. They're kinda small. And, as Daddy would say, one crayfish is just enough to make you mad.
Our education system had once again failed us. And, no, "Crayfish" was not the name of a local musician. This place of questionable culinary fare was not one for any type of entertainment (with the exception of people watching, mainly of their clientele).Given the food establishment in question, it was a menu item. And, as much as I love crayfish, this is not the place I would choose to enjoy them (or it as the case maybe - only if I got there first.)
Don't get me wrong, I know that looks can be deceiving when it comes to the quality of food versus the curb appeal of an epicurean institution. In this case however, the curb appeal (or lack thereof) told the story.