"I got a cooler of shrimp..." the man in the Goodwill parking lot says. He is wearing cargo pants, a red t-shirt that advertises a tire store’s sponsorship of a local softball team, and muck-covered athletic shoes that are the same color as two of his front teeth.

I think, Well of course you do. You got an outta control daughter and a pregnant cat too. Who doesn’t? Around here, coolers of shrimp are as common as both. I don’t say that, though. I say, "When were they caught?" I tilt my head and squint an eye in a way that tells him not to lie about it, because I’ll know.

"Yesterday, late afternoon," he says. "26/30's. Not real big, but pretty." He opens the cooler to let me look at the pretty shrimp. They’re brown bay shrimp, ugly if you’re looking for the ugly. They smell briney; the shells are a uniform gray-brown with no spots, and the eyes are bright. I nod, conceding the pretty.

"$5.99 for heads-on? How about $5.00?" That’s still a little high, but I feel for these small-time shrimpers. These days, I feel for any shrimper.

Even before the oil spill, Gulf Coast shrimpers have been in trouble, facing intense competition from overseas shrimp farmers who can produce what much of the American interior recognizes as "shrimp" at a far lower cost. Those of us raised on fresh Gulf Coast shrimp – pounds of the critters boiled up on a Sunday afternoon (because the trashman came on Mondays to take the shrimp shells away) – we know the difference.

Growing up, shrimp was cheap. Not as cheap as mullet, a nearly free "trash fish" we ate smoked or fried, but cheap. You could pick up five pounds of shrimp from a roadside vendor for less than the cost of a pizza. Or a vendor would come to you at work, poking his head in the door calling out to everyone inside, "I got a cooler of shrimp..."

As I steered our family toward vegetarianism a decade ago, one thing kept me from going all in - seafood. Gulf Coast flounder, snapper, amberjack, grouper, cobia, oysters, shrimp, the humble mullet. I couldn’t give them up. Now, I fear that decision might be out of our hands. I fear shortly we’ll all be shorebound, staring into barren waters, remembering days of shrimp so cheap even Goodwill shoppers could afford a pound or two.

I know it’s selfish to look upon the Deepwater Horizon catastrophe as a problem that will have an impact on my kitchen. The species in the Gulf of Mexico don’t live to serve my appetite. Although my belly offers the most direct connection to the waters that surround us, long after my tongue has forgotten the taste of grilled snapper and fried shrimp, I’ll remember the afternoon a couple of years ago when my husband and I took a walk on the fishing pier an hour before sundown. To the right I saw a dolphin family, two adults and a baby, playing close to shore, so close I could see smile on their snouts. To the left, I saw something I’d never seen before – and I’ve lived here all my life – a huge leatherback turtle. It was fun to watch the tourists run from one side of the pier to the other, watching first the dolphin family and then the turtle. (I did the same thing!) As we walked, dodging the lines of sunbaked fishermen and Korean women, a commotion moved from the end of the pier to the start. A fisherman was reeling in a feisty skipjack; he ran backwards along the entire length of the pier, finally leaping off to the beach, teasing the jack into the shallows, where he waded out chest deep to pull his hook and release the fish, with a cheeky spank to its back. As he trudged ashore, spectators applauded him – his sportsmanship, his humanity. He grinned hugely, accepting his accolades, and jogged to the end of the pier to cast another line. I thought, This is why we live here. Why we put up with hurricanes and tourist traffic. This is paradise.

This Sunday, remembering the Sunday shrimp feasts of my youth, I brought home two pounds of Gulf shrimp, pricier than their bay brethren, but larger in size and flavor. I don’t boil them like my mother did. Our palates have changed with the years. Our favorite way to eat shrimp now is to bake them so that their juices can be sopped up with a loaf of good bread. Not a drop of flavor lost, because that would be a shame. Especially now.

Shrimp Baked in Spicy Basil Garlic Butter

2 pounds large Gulf shrimp, heads-off, shells-on

2 sticks of butter, at room temperature

1 large handful of fresh basil

3 garlic cloves

1 Tbsp kosher salt

1 Tbsp fresh black pepper

1 heaping tsp red pepper flakes

Juice of one lemon

Preheat your oven to 425 degrees. In a food processor, combine the garlic cloves, basil, butter, salt, pepper and red pepper until blended. Place the butter mixture in a 13 x 9 pan and heat in the oven until melted. Add the shrimp and the lemon juice, and toss the shrimp in the butter mixture. Cover the pan with foil and bake for 10 - 15 minutes (depending upon the size of your shrimp). If desired, toss a few boiled potatoes (they might need additional salt) into the buttery pan juices to coat, and serve with bread for dipping.