As dusk fell on a sticky summer Sunday, Paul Outlaw, in camouflage shorts and matching baseball hat, an undershirt tucked beneath his apron, stood on a platform attached to a converted delivery truck and taught some Brooklynites how to eat crayfish.
“You rip it open,” he said, demonstrating how to pinch the bottom of the tail to extract a bit of meat. “And then you want to crush the head and suck the brain.”
Whoosh — that little guy was gone.
Matthew Freundlich, visiting from St. Louis, whispered to his friends, “This is not a meal I expected in New York City.”
“Matt,” one replied, “this is a boring Sunday for us.”
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