Crayfish

Let me tell you about crayfish, and why so many people ruin them before the water even boils.

Buy them alive. That's the whole secret, and everything else follows from it. Pick one up and watch: the claws reach, the legs paddle, the tail snaps tight under the body. That's a crayfish worth cooking. One that lies still, tail hanging loose and straight, however fresh-looking its shell — leave it in the tray.

Smell tells you as much as your eyes do. A live crayfish, or one just killed, smells of clean river water. Nothing more. The moment you catch a sour or ammonia edge, trust your nose and walk away.

Some people say a dead one is fine for the broth as long as you boil it long enough. No! I've watched cooks try this, and the water never lies: the meat comes out mushy and loose, falling apart in your fingers instead of pulling cleanly from the shell, and when you lift the lid that same off smell is waiting for you, no better than before. So choose with your hands, not just your eyes — pick them up, feel for that fight in the claws and tail, and only then start the water.