ERIK DENT
The fisherman's larder:
Blue sky days on the Lower Laguna
Josh Crumpton elevates a laid-back day of redfishing with a Mexican shrimp cocktail, enjoyed on the water.
THE THERMOMETER read 76 when Rob and I launched the Sabine Skiff from South Padre. June mornings on the island start perfect and get warmer, but that’s when the reds are happiest. The early-summer pattern was setting in: bait everywhere, fish aggressive, and long days that beg for proper midday breaks.
"Full day ahead," Rob said, checking the tide chart. "No rush."
The Lower Laguna Madre at this time of year is pure possibility. The water sits at that ideal level — not the extreme lows of winter or the highs of fall. Everything’s alive. Mullet schools darken the flats, blue crabs scuttle through the grass, and the redfish cruise in that confident way that says they own the place.
We ran north into country we’d learned over the years, looking for that nervous water where reds trap bait against the grass edges. June means options — some fish tailing in the shallows, others cruising the sand pockets, all feeding hard.
We found them working a grass bed, pushing bait in that deliberate way that makes your heart speed up. My first fish ate a small crab pattern on the drop, turning hard into the grass before I could steer it clear. Rob stuck his next cast, then it was my turn again. The early-summer bite is like that — consistent, aggressive, rewarding.
The early-summer bite is like that — consistent, aggressive, rewarding
Redfish — a striking predator.
ERIK DENT
By 11am, we’d each landed plenty, our forearms burning from the morning’s work. The sun was climbing toward its June intensity, bringing heat that makes shade precious and cold drinks essential.
"Ready for lunch?" Rob asked, already knowing the answer.
I dropped anchor in knee-deep water — just deep enough to keep us floating but shallow enough to stand comfortably. This was the moment I’d been planning for since yesterday afternoon, when I’d stopped to buy shrimp at Los Tortugos seafood market in Port Isabel.
The preparation starts with good ingredients. Los Tortugos gets its shrimp straight from the boats — you can smell the diesel and salt when you walk in. I’d bought a pound of mediums, pink and perfect, then slow-poached them gently back at the condo.
Los Tortugos seafood market.
Los Tortugos
Instead of the syrupy, ketchup-heavy base sauce found at coastal snack bars, I prefer a cleaner, more sophisticated profile. I whisk together Clamato and tomato purée, using fresh orange juice for a natural sweetness that cuts through the heat of chopped chile adobo and Valentina hot sauce. Both the sauce and the shrimp went into separate containers in the fridge — never mixed until morning.
The produce came from that little Mexican grocery near the bridge — the one where the tomatoes actually taste like something and the cilantro comes in bunches bigger than your fist. I’d set my alarm early, giving myself time in the dark kitchen before Rob arrived. Working by the light over the stove, I chopped Roma tomatoes, cucumber, and celery. I added jícama — the Mexican turnip and my secret ingredient — cut fine so it stays crunchy without overpowering the dish. Red onion and shallot went into lime juice to "cure" while I worked, mellowing their sharp bite into a bright, sweet acidity.
Both the sauce and the shrimp went into separate containers in the fridge — never mixed until morning
Another added to the tally — time for lunch.
ERIK DENT
I sliced them right there on the boat’s cutting board, fanning them on top of each serving with a drizzle of olive oil and a pinch of sea salt
Everything came together in one container at the last minute: the chilled shrimp, all the vegetables, and a heavy hand of fresh cilantro and mint. The mint is the differentiator here; it adds a coastal brightness that lifts the entire dish. The base sauce stayed separate in the cooler as we loaded the boat. The drive to the ramp and run to our spot gave the ingredients just enough marinating time — flavors developing without the vegetables going soft.
Now, standing in that perfect June water, I combined them for the first time, pouring the base sauce over the shrimp mixture in our big plastic cups and scattering fresh herbs from the extra container on top. The avocados came out last — never cut them ahead. I sliced them right there on the boat’s cutting board, fanning them on top of each serving with a drizzle of olive oil and a pinch of sea salt.
"This is living," Rob said, watching the assembly.
The tostadas were the good ones from the same Mexican grocery, not those pre-packaged things. They served as both spoon and plate, that perfect crunch against the tender shrimp and vegetables. The sauce had developed beautifully during the boat ride — sweet, spicy, ocean-bright. You could taste the quality in every bite — Los Tortugos shrimp have that sweetness you don't get from the frozen stuff.
Cold Pacífico washed it down, that first sip so cold it hurt. We stood there in the water, early-summer sun on our backs, taking our time. No afternoon obligations, no change in season to chase. Just June on the Laguna Madre, which might be the best place on earth when you're standing in it with good food and cold beer.
"The jícama's perfect," Rob noted between bites. "Still has that crunch."
That’s the key to cóctel on the boat — timing and ingredients. Start with good shrimp from Los Tortugos, add fresh vegetables from the Mexican grocery, and mix at the right moment. Too early and everything breaks down. Wait too long, and the flavors don’t marry. The morning assembly and boat ride hit the sweet spot.
We stood there in the water, early-summer sun on our backs, taking our time
By the time we finished eating, the tide was moving again, bringing cooler water from the deeper channels. We could see bait spraying in the distance as bigger fish worked the edges. But neither of us moved immediately. Full and satisfied, we stood in the water watching the Laguna do its June thing — pelicans diving, mullet jumping, that endless cycle of life that makes this place special.
The afternoon fishing was even better than the morning. Maybe it was the tide change, maybe the food and beer, maybe just the magic of early summer when everything's right with the water. We fished until our arms gave out, then found another flat and fished some more.
That's what June on the Laguna teaches you — some days are made for taking your time. The patterns are reliable, the days are long, and a proper midday meal turns good fishing into something memorable. It's about slowing down enough to appreciate each step, from the seafood market to the final slice of avocado, creating a memorable day, one careful preparation at a time.
We fished until our arms gave out, then found another flat and fished some more
A pelican searching for baitfish.
JOSH CRUMPTON
A pelican searching for baitfish.
JOSH CRUMPTON
By the time we finished eating, the tide was moving again, bringing cooler water from the deeper channels. We could see bait spraying in the distance as bigger fish worked the edges. But neither of us moved immediately. Full and satisfied, we stood in the water watching the Laguna do its June thing — pelicans diving, mullet jumping, that endless cycle of life that makes this place special.
The afternoon fishing was even better than the morning. Maybe it was the tide change, maybe the food and beer, maybe just the magic of early summer when everything's right with the water. We fished until our arms gave out, then found another flat and fished some more.
That's what June on the Laguna teaches you — some days are made for taking your time. The patterns are reliable, the days are long, and a proper midday meal turns good fishing into something memorable. It's about slowing down enough to appreciate each step, from the seafood market to the final slice of avocado, creating a memorable day, one careful preparation at a time.
We fished until our arms gave out, then found another flat and fished some more
Cóctel de Camarones Mejorado
JOSH CRUMPTON
Cóctel de Camarones Mejorado Prep Time: 45 minutes
Chill Time: 1 to 3 hours
Servings: 4 Ingredients:
For the cocktail:
- 1 pound chilled, cooked medium shrimp (peeled, deveined, tails removed)
- ½ cup freshly squeezed lime juice
- ¼ cup finely minced red onion
- 1 tablespoon finely minced shallot
- 2 Roma (plum) tomatoes, chopped
- 1 cucumber, finely chopped
- 1 stalk celery, finely chopped
- ¼ cup finely diced jícama
- 1 jalapeño pepper, seeded and finely chopped
- 2 teaspoons salt
- 2 teaspoons ground black pepper
- 1 bunch fresh cilantro, leaves chopped
- ¼ cup fresh mint leaves, chopped
For the base sauce:
- 1 cup chilled tomato and clam juice cocktail (such as Clamato)
- ½ cup tomato purée
- ¼ cup freshly squeezed orange juice
- 1 chile adobo, chopped
- 2 tablespoons Valentina hot sauce
- ½ teaspoon Mexican oregano
- Pinch of ground cumin
For the garnish:
- 2 ripe avocados, peeled, pitted, and sliced or cubed
- A drizzle of high-quality olive oil and a sprinkle of sea salt (optional)
- Tostadas or seasoned tortilla chips, for serving
Method:
- Prepare aromatics: In a small bowl, combine the red onion, shallot, and lime juice. Set aside for 10 minutes to allow the flavors to marry and the onions to slightly "cure."
- Make the base sauce: In a large bowl, whisk together the Clamato, tomato purée, and orange juice. Stir in the chopped chile adobo, salt, black pepper, Mexican oregano, and cumin until the sauce is uniform.
- Combine solids: In a separate large bowl, gently toss the shrimp, Roma tomatoes, cucumber, celery, jícama, and jalapeño.
- Assemble the cocktail: Pour the onion/lime mixture and the base sauce into the bowl with the shrimp and vegetables. Gently stir to combine.
- Add herbs and chill: Fold in the chopped cilantro and the fresh mint leaves. Cover and chill in the refrigerator for a minimum of 1 hour (and up to 3 hours) to ensure flavors meld.
- Serve and garnish: Just before serving, taste and adjust the seasoning. Ladle into individual glasses or bowls. Top with avocado, a drizzle of olive oil, and sea salt. Serve immediately with tostadas or chips.
PHOTOGRAPHY: JOSH CRUMPTON/ERIK DENT
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Josh Crumpton
Josh Crumpton brings 30 years of fine dining and wine industry experience to the outdoor world. Having worked alongside world-class chefs and served as a sommelier, he now applies that culinary expertise to hunting, fishing, and camp cooking across the American West. Based in Texas, he bridges the gap between haute cuisine and authentic outdoor pursuits.
