Cracking the Conch Mystery - Bahamas

In the Bahamas, the conch is a delicacy featured in every menu in every restaurant; cracked conch, conch fritters, conch chowder, conch flambe (OK, so I haven't actually seen that last one yet, but I'm sure it exists somewhere). Conch is the shell that Hawaiians blow through in all the old-timey movies that depict life before car horns. It's a very beautiful shell and I wanted one! At every island we went to, we would see conch boats loaded to the gills with conchs bound for restaurants and food stalls in town. Every beach we walked on (even the most remote ones) had conch shells lying empty on the sand with the tell-tale break in the shell signifying that whatever had once lived inside the shell had been forcibly removed to become someone's meal. I snorkeled high and low, but for the life of me, I couldn't find a darn conch anywhere. I was becoming convinced that conches in the Bahamas only existed in top secret conch farms, far-removed from the prying eyes of sneaky tourists. Then one day, at high tide, I took the dinghy to a remote area of the little harbor we were anchored in and I found the mother-load of conch colonies. YAY!!! Conch for dinner! I picked 9 of the largest conchs and took them back to the boat. Now to clean them. I figured it couldn't be too hard. The locals did it all the time. I whacked the shell in the proper place, cut around inside a bit with a knife and then yanked out the little beasty inside. The grossest looking, slimy, squirmy alien entity spilled out on the table in front of me. EEEEWWWWW! This thing didn't look anything like the fritter I had eaten the night before - it was brown and pink and black with two antennas and a slime emitting device that was sliming like nobody’s business. The US government, or at least the Astro-Glide company, need to look into the chemical composition of this slime because the ick wouldn't wash off. Even with soap and hot water I had to wash my hands 3 times to get the goo off! OK, so being the tough girl that I am, I start to skin
the critter and chop off its guts. I figure the Bahamians have been doing it for centuries, how hard can it be, right? Well, the thing was still moving and sliming and being downright uncooperative in this endeavor. FINALLY - after about an hour and a half - I get two of the beastys cleaned and begin slicing the muscle into strips to make ceviche. Well, the darn thing is STILL MOVING, so each strip that I cut curls up and contracts and I end up having to cube each strip individually and then douse the whole mess in lime juice. GROSS! But, like I said, "doing it for centuries...when in Rome"...etc.

We ate it for dinner and it was good.
The End.