I’m rolling through the produce section, just like any grocery run, when the first whiff of raw fish wafts over from the seafood market. It’s inescapable, that smell, but it passes once you hit the dry goods or salad dressings. This time, I stop short. There, in front of me, is a teeming mass of writhing, clawing, blue-brown crabs in a huge plastic bin. They’re crawling on top of each other, some raising their claws like the fists of wary prizefighters. I live near landlocked Austin, so live ocean creatures are an unexpected sight. But a recollection rises from the depths, as I stand in Fiesta Mart, and suddenly I am 7 years old again.
It was after Labor Day, the start of the offseason on the Texas coast. My…
