Paging Laszlo...

Posted by Kurt Maurer on Jun 30, 2006

Hey Laszlo, drop me an email, buddy, I wanna talk to you...

I'm badly messed up here... I'm just about good and (censored) ready to pack up and head back to the East Coast, just to get another crab cake at the Edgewater Cafe. But gas, at $3 a gallon, can get prohibitive when talking about a restaurant 1500 miles away every week or so.

Being on Galveston Bay, I can get all the lump blue crab meat I want... but I need to find out how they put together those softball-sized wonders of culinary architecture. I'm in a veritable hot spot for some of the most excellent seafood restaurants in the world, and am even an first-rate seafood cook myself... And yet, still, I am at my wit's end on this matter.

I don't know where else to turn, except to Shell, Exxon, Texaco, et al, and I can't afford them (any more). So you're it. I need for you to go by there and beg, borrow, or steal a recipe for me, or surely I'll croak. Use some finesse, boy, and sell 'em a pitiful sad story of a guy in Texas who's pining for another go at one of those babies, but has no hope of realizing the dream for at least a year -- and by that time, he'll surely have died of pure unrequited lust. If that doesn't work, threaten them that I'll write a really bad country song so chock full of longing and utter despair that the entire country will be plunged into a hopeless state of depression, lose its superpower status among the nations of the world, and ultimately croak altogether.

Promise 'em that I'll keep their secret safely guarded, even unto pain of destruction. Tell 'em that I'm a hideously selfish cretin, and will happily allow the rest of the world to wither and die as long as I'm satisfied, which you already know to be true.

At any rate, I hope you're happy. You should never have turned me loose upon a place like that.

Cheers, Kurt



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