Maybe it’s the giant crab.
If you’ve been to Gaido’s, or just driven past the building at Thirty-
Ninth and Seawall, in Galveston, you know the crab. Twelve feet wide and anatomically correct, the gargantuan crustacean atop the roof has awed children for decades.
I was one of them. I’m a BOI (“Born on Island”), and that blue crab was as big a part of my childhood food memories as braving my first raw oyster. (It was around the same time my mother, raised in Harlingen, got me to try the menudo she always ordered at La Galvestonia.) My version of a cornucopia was the Gaido’s Gulf oyster platter, with its bounty of bivalves fried, grilled, and seared with bacon.
Gaido’s opened in 1911 and quickly established a reputation for fresh fare and stellar service. The late Gary Cartwright called it “the best seafood restaurant in Galveston—and maybe in the world” in a 1990 story in this magazine.
My love for the place is generational. My father, A. R. “Babe” Schwartz, was Galveston’s state senator from 1960 to 1981, and we ate there often. The line of patrons would be out the door, but Dad always walked right in, getting a loud “Hello, Senator!” from the maître d’, who would then usher us to a table. Even a child knows what privilege is, and I felt guilty about that. But I was also hungry.
No matter how big our table, I never saw a waiter pull out a notepad. The staff had prodigious memorization skills that I, a budding nerd, envied. And little touches such as warm bread before the meal and finger bowls after were my introduction to dining elegance.
I left Galveston for college, and my folks eventually moved to Austin. So despite occasional visits, I hadn’t spent much time in the Oleander City or eaten at Gaido’s as often as I would have liked. It was time to go back. My wife and I drove from Austin to Houston to meet her father and brother, and we all headed down the Gulf Freeway.
We didn’t get far: A tire on my father-in-law’s car blew out near Telephone Road, not even past the city limits. I called the restaurant and was assured that our reservation would hold. That was lucky, because once I got the spare on, it turned out to be flat. A tow truck got us to a repair shop, and when the new tire was on, I asked everyone if they still wanted to make the trip. The vote was unanimous. We rolled up at 8:30, washed off the road grime, and got ready to eat.
The feeling of the restaurant was unchanged (though there were more gimme caps and shorts than I remembered), and now that I’m kind of a fossil myself, I felt I was in good company. The decor still focuses on Galveston’s maritime history, including, a little unsettlingly, a collection of ivory-handled tools from a ship’s dentist. Shelves display beautiful cut glass collected by Maureen Elizabeth “Kewpie” Gaido, the wife of Mike Gaido, who took over the restaurant in 1939 after the death of his father, San Giacinto.
Our server came over, took out her notepad—some things have changed—and briskly jotted down our orders, recommending some of the most popular items, such as the crostini with fat Gulf shrimp and jumbo lump crab tossed in garlic-herb butter. It was spectacular. We also enjoyed cups of the tangy gumbo rich with shrimp and okra. (Alas, oyster season doesn’t start until November, so I couldn’t get the platter. I’ll be back.)
My wife ordered cornmeal-fried catfish, and her dad got five beautifully grilled shrimp. Her brother and I settled on charcoal-grilled redfish on the half shell. The redfish, of course, was farm raised; thanks to my dad’s conservation efforts, it’s long been designated a game fish. Whatever path it took to my plate, it was delicious.
As the last plates disappeared, metal bowls filled with water and lemon took their place. I might have dipped my fingers into the same one sixty years ago.
The visit was near perfect. All that was missing? Mom and Dad, who have been gone three and six years, respectively. There are some things even redfish can’t fix. But I figure wherever they are, they are smiling.
Gaido’s
Address: 3828 Seawall Blvd
City: Galveston
Most Popular Dish: Snapper Michael
Year Opened: 1911
John Schwartz teaches journalism at the University of Texas at Austin. He has worked at The New York Times, The Washington Post, and Newsweek.
This article originally appeared in the November 2024 issue of Texas Monthly with the headline “Nostalgia on the Half Shell.” Subscribe today.
