The Last S̶u̶p̶p̶e̶r̶ Lunch

Pablo left for the airport this afternoon, flying back to Austin to see his Mom for a bit. We all wanted one last meal together before he left though. The man likes to eat, that’s for sure, but growing up in Texas left him with an adult seafood deficit that he’s been doing his best to fill ever since he and Hannah got together.

There are many things I’m proud of with my two daughters but none less than their ability to field strip a crab, oyster, clam, or lobster in record time. Blindfolded.

So Hannah has been teaching Pablo about the transcendent epiphany that can accompany very fresh, local, seafood, when properly cooked. He’s become something of a seafood snob. Not what you expect from a guy who only wears shoes when he has to and looks a bit like he may live under a bridge.

“It’s Pablo’s last lunch here, where should we go?” we asked each other.

He remembered hearing Carla brag about Osteen’s famous shrimp and their excellent down-home sides. Real sweet tea and hush-puppies that crack on the outside and steam on the inside. Perfect. I always agree the food there is delicious, but point out that Carla had to pull me in the first time. That was some 30 years ago after I heard there were no booths or beer. Pablo doesn’t drink though and the only person who thinks he needs a booth, is me. I have to have my back to a wall just in case Ninjas come at me with sharp blades. I need to be ready.

But knowing the assassins would have to go through Pablo, Hannah and Carla first, I was good with it.

The oysters, flounder, and shrimp were all fried perfectly with a very light coating that is more like tempura than traditional batter. They must change the oil in the fryer all the time. It’s never bitter. That’s a big red flag for me if a place gets too cheap to change the oil. Osteen’s never has. Sides of green beans cooked forever with some fatback or ham, yellow squash, sweet and tangy pickled cucumber or pickled beets, and yes, real sweet tea made with real sugar. No syrups allowed.

It’s that kind of attention to detail, and pride in serving a simple, delicious meal, that has made Osteen’s one of the most popular, perhaps the most popular, restaurant in St Augustine, for more than 50 years.

Ask anyone: “Where should we go for shrimp?” Locals and tourists alike will all answer the same way: Osteen’s!

Pablo, the seafood snob, agreed. He never noticed there were no booths. He just kept making appreciative sounds as he ate.

Immediately after lunch, he had to leave for the airport. He was holding the remainder of his fried shrimp close, like a newborn baby wrapped in Styrofoam, and wearing the silly grin that some of us get after we’ve encountered food perfection.

I understand. Now, Carla and I have to go back very soon.

Ninjas be damned.