From the Blog

I (Sort Of) Made Killer Shrimp

I tried to go to Killer Shrimp in Marina Del Rey over 4th of July weekend. I was just a few days too late: They closed on June 29th. Bummer. For those not familiar, Killer Shrimp was an LA restaurant that only served shrimp in a spicy broth with a bucket of french bread. You could have your shrimp with pasta or rice if you wanted. It was greasy and garlicky and spicy enough to made your nose run.

When I was visiting Los Angeles, I was disappointed to find it closed. Because when you visit places you formerly lived, you’re sort of there to visit your friends and family. But really, you visit your favorite restaurants. When my parents visit New England, they go straight for the fried clam sandwiches, greasy east-coast chinese food and Kimball Farm ice cream. They might drop in to say hi to Gramma and Grampa. Maybe.

There are a number of recipes online for “killer shrimp.” Most are very similar and a lot of them claim to be authentic. I made one of the recipes over the weekend. It was “okay.” Kinda meh. The broth I made had a tartness that I don’t remember in the restaurant. And it was not spicy enough. I made a pound of pasta and that was about 14 ounces more than I needed. I put in as much rosemary as the recipe called for, but it seemed like too much.

I will experiment more the next time I make it, before my memory of the original fades completely. In the mean time, the batch I made yesterday was enough to feed all the people who went to Flugtag. So guess what I had for dinner tonight? Killer shrimp. Know what my place still smells like 24 hours later? Killer shrimp. Know what I might not need to eat ever again? In my life?


  1. This is all very, very sad. I have fond memories of Killer Shrimp. The first time I went there 14 years ago, I was on a double date with this tacky chick who dressed in leopard print and declared that she “went to films, not movies.” When the waiter told her they didn’t serve cappuccinos there, she asked, “what are we, camping or something?” After that, she tried to convince our mutual friends that I was gay simply because I didn’t ask her out again.

    Hold on a second– this isn’t a very fond memory at all. Fuck that place!

    Anyway, when Vejune and I were last in Hawaii (your old stomping ground!), we discovered the shrimp trucks on the North Shore of Oahu. To put it mildly (or spicily), Macky’s blows all other shrimp dining experiences away, and I would gladly spend the $500 to return there just to have nine more of those jumbo bitches.

  2. He said jumbo bitches!!

    Yeah! WTF! Closed! So unfortunate.

  3. I also recently made this recipe. And I’m leaving this here as a note to myself so I don’t forget where I found it.

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