This 3-minute marinated shrimp-and-onion dish is optimal summer party food

Dauphin Island is the southernmost point of Alabama. It is a tiny barrier island in the Gulf of Mexico about three miles south of Mobile Bay. Located just outside the city of Mobile, but within the limits of Mobile County, it stretches fourteen miles long and is only a mile-and-a-half at its widest point.

When I was in high school, I spent many a summer day there with my friend, Jeri, and her family at their house on the east end, and this recipe is from that time.  

Less than an hour drive from where we lived in Mobile, Dauphin Island was another world — a far simpler one — with only one main road and very few things to do other than bicycle around and hang out on the beach. Jeri and I loved it: the days were long, the sunsets spectacular, and there was no problem in either of our lives that we believed we could not solve between the two of us.  

Her parents were big participants in Mobile Mardi Gras, each in a parading organization — her mom a Polka Dot, her dad a Striper — and they brought the party to the Island most every weekend. Throughout June and July, a constant parade of Jeri’s parents’ friends and fellow merrymakers came and went, and their zeal for entertaining and having fun was on full display.

I do not recall there being other kids around, but Jeri and I could hear laughter emanating from the house most any waking hour, their hoots and hollers carrying almost to the beach, which was just shy of a seven minute walk from the property. 

By the time cereal bowls, Krispy Kreme doughnuts and coffee cups were abandoned and the sun was high in the sky, every square inch of flat surface from the kitchen to the living room would become covered with plates and bowls of nuts, fruit, chips, dips, cheeses, bite-sized quiches and various other mini-delights. Additional snacks and every conceivable ingredient and condiment for sandwich making were packed onto cabinet shelves or ready for us in the refrigerator. Jeri and I had it made.

With our basic needs well taken care of and with very little scrutiny, questions, or concern from her parents, we did as we pleased, as was common for kids in the mid-1980’s, and breezed in and out throughout the days and evenings at our leisure.

By late afternoon, the grill and makeshift downstairs kitchen were in full swing with seriously good food being brought out in shifts until well into the night. Food prep, serving, and clearing moved seamlessly through most all of the ladies present and a good number of the men too. Some performed tasks together and others solo like a beautiful ballet.

Casseroles and salads dotted the middle lane of their long picnic style table, and the party became only a whisper quieter as we all devoured what was a smorgasbord of hot and cold dishes, desserts, and drink concoctions never to be replicated again. 

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These marinated shrimp of Miss Cathy’s, Jeri’s mom, or what she called “Island Shrimp,” was standard fare in the summer, especially when friends visited from out-of-town (from farther away than just Mobile). Exasperated, Miss Cathy would explain that she was late getting to the Island because she had traipsed all over town for Vidalias, the uniquely flat-shaped, sweet summer onions that she believed were vital to her Island Shrimp being the standout it was. She proclaimed often and to anyone around to hear that the onions were absolutely just as good as the shrimp. Her Island Shrimp ratio was for every pound of shrimp, you needed a pound of Vidalias, sliced wafer thin in rounds or half moons, according to how large or small the onion.  

I remember my mother being equally as excited as Miss Cathy over Vidalia onion season. There was a buzz about them: Vidalia onions. You had to go find them and get them while they were available, which was only the few short months of summer.

As a youth I was not fond of any kind of onion and did not understand the fervor, but as an adult I readily admit Vidalias are special. They really are! They are sweet, because of their high sugar content, but they are also mild, which is due to the soil in Vidalia, Georgia having an unusually low amount of sulfur. (At least, that is the story I was told growing up.)

Like summer corn, peaches and tomatoes, Vidalias are in a class of their own, and they absolutely make this dish.