April 15, 2006

Shrimp Shack, Baby, Shrimp Shack

We were driving through the little town of Waimea, snuggled neatly between the ocean and beautiful Waimea Canyon, when Joe, a recovering vegetarian with a penchant for seafood, suggested we stop at the roadside Shrimp Station. As we approached the order counter, a woman who I presumed to be the owner of the Station announced that she was taking a break, leaving two children whom I presumed to be hers in charge. With some degree of trepidation I gave our order to the 14 year old, who in turn repeated it to the 12-year-old cook. As we waited for our meals I pondered the wisdom of letting the children play with the deep fat fryer.

My fear was completely dispelled a few minutes later when we were presented with platters of crunchy Coconut Shrimp, Thai Shrimp sautéed with lemongrass, basil, and coconut milk, and Shrimp Burgers yummy enough to make a grown man, well, groan. Served up with crispy fries and a ginger-papaya tartar sauce, they were delicious.

I say down with child labor laws.