Ingredients:
For Crab:
2 live crabs, bagged and angry
1/2 cup sea salt
1 gallon water
For Gumbo:
2 tbsp. highly suspicious butter substitute, expired
4 small red potatoes, poorly halved
1 red onion, poorly chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
A pinch of salt
A dash of pepper
6 cups water
For the soul:
1 album, chef's choice
1 apron, your father's
1 six pack Miller High Life tall boys, room temp
Directions:
1. Drink 3 of the tall boys in rapid succession. 87% of all chefs are at least buzzed, and the other 13% are line-cooks at Wendy's who are having a tempestuous love affair with crystal meth. (Encyclopedia of Statistics on the More Or Less Permanently Altered Sobriety of World-Class Chefs, 1997.) Set remaining tall boys aside in large bowl.
2. Get that apron on. Try it loose, then try it tied. This is the time in your life to experiment.
3. In large pot, heat 1 gallon water and 1/2 cup salt over high heat.
4. The water's boiling! It's time for a crab fight!
5. Release crabs from bag onto kitchen floor. Watch them circle each other. Root for one. From time to time, you might taunt one or both crabs with a butter knife. Be creative. This is why you dropped out of school to become a chef.
6. Put on some mood music and get the chef juices flowing. Have you ever had a meal that tasted like a gray mattress? That is the taste of a meal marinated in cold and stony silence. (A meal that tastes like shit was more than likely cooked while listening to Diana Ross. The Encyclopedia tells us, for example, that during a 1969 Chefs of Manhattan regional competition, Frankie 'Fondue' Fontane received the lowest score ever given in the history of chef's competitions for his 'Stop in the Name of Soup' chicken soup, after which he dropped to his knees in the middle of the street and screamed 'THE SUPREMES ARE NOT SUPREME!' repeatedly until he was hit and killed by a truck. Ironically, the truck-driver didn't have his eyes on the road at the time of the accident because he was looking for a cassette tape of The Marvelettes that had slipped into "that tricky no-man's land between the seat and the center console.")
7. Once bored of the crab fight, pick up crabs by their back legs and drop into boiling water. Imagine the pain of being boiled. Rejoice that you are not a crab. You are a chef. And a damn fine chef at that! Boil them for 20 minutes.
8. In separate pot, combine potatoes, garlic, onion, salt and pepper in enough water to cover the potatoes by about 2 inches. (about 4 cups.) Boil, covered, for 20 minutes.
9. This is where being drunk comes in handy. Drain crab and potato pots, using flimsy lids to barely contain the boiling hot contents as you pour the steaming water off into the sink, which is precariously stacked with all manner of unwashed cookery. If you do feel the occasional burn, think through it by imagining your parents' suffering instead. Don't be shy! 99% of world-class chefs are victims of long-term childhood trauma. (Jacques De Jacques, head chef and owner of Paris's 'Le Petite Garcon' restaurant, was once asked to explain how he came up with his famous meatball-turtle soup. He locked himself in the walk-in fridge for two days and came out with a crayon drawing of his mother's head on a turtle's body.)
10. Return pots to burners on low heat. Add butter to potatoes. There will come a point when you will feel you've added enough butter, but you haven't. Add more. You like your gumbo like you like your women: stuffed in a rusty pot, smothered in butter, and resembling mashed potatoes. <---- Editor's Note: most brilliant thing I've ever written.
11. Find and pay someone to shell and clean the crab.
12. Add crab meat to the potatoes. Drink another beer while it cools.
13. Fall asleep before eating, wake up at 3 in the morning and enjoy!
