What’s a Cajun joint doing in this Vietnamese section of the Rainier Valley? Something very tasty, it turns out. In the ‘70s when thousands of Vietnamese refugees washed up in Gulf ports many took up shrimping, a big deal in Vietnam as well. Shellfish, sausage, pepper, and garlic are a universal language; the immigrants took to Cajun cooking, then took it on the road. The Cajun Crawfish hews to the formula: crawfish, shrimp, crab legs (snow or king), sea snails, clams, or a mix, served by the pound in a heavy plastic bag with steaming sauce (Cajun, butter, lemon-pepper, or a “boom bang” combination) and optional potatoes, andouille, and corn. No utensils, just plastic bibs, paper towels, and butcher paper covering the table. Wimps may request plastic forks or (more effective) chopsticks. The only sign of fusion is “boom bang fried rice,” a sort of rice bowl/jambalaya crossover with shrimp, sausage, onion, celery, and (!) pineapple, saturated with filé and sprinkled with nori. It works. Drawl “Asian” and “Cajun” slowly enough and they sound the same.