Magic Not Included, But the Shrimp’s the Real Spell

Nassau County is crawling with seafood. Shrimp, lobster, and whatever else you can drag out of the Atlantic — it’s all here, on backroads, street corners, in Styrofoam coolers and roadside trailers. So it takes something special to stand out, but Voodoo Shrimp Shack manages to do so.

Just off U.S. Route 17, a humble food truck with a not-so-humble menu sits by the pickleball courts and a small church. It promises “shrimp, lobster, and magic,” which is bold, considering there’s no voodoo in sight. No dolls, no pins, no curses. Just seafood. But maybe that is the magic.

I finally rolled up one blistering afternoon and went for it. The truck’s got a few tables and chairs outside but no shade. So I ordered, sweat through my shirt, and retreated to my car like a roasted ham with heatstroke.

There was no one at the window at first, just a Ring doorbell. I hit it. A guy popped out, took my order with a grin, and the food came out surprisingly fast. No frills, no fuss.

The menu rotates, but when I went, they had lobster rolls, shrimp rolls, crab rolls, tacos, and hot dogs. I ordered four things — the Maine lobster roll, Amelia Island shrimp roll, a shrimp street taco, and the wonderfully absurd “Shrimpy Footlong Dog.”

Let’s talk about the lobster roll. Yes, it’s $25. No, it doesn’t come with a drink. Yes, that’s a little insane. But it is packed. Overflowing, even. You’ll get more lobster than roll, which is saying something. The split-top bun had a solid butter crust, though it wasn’t warm. A letdown, but not a dealbreaker. This thing is rich. Messy. Decadent. And borderline justifiable if you’re feeling adventurous.

But where Voodoo really shines? The shrimp.

The Amelia Island shrimp roll was a highlight. Local, wild-caught jumbo shrimp. You get a generous portion, too, all tucked into a buttery roll with just the right amount of sauce. Better than Mason’s? That’s a debate I’ll let locals fight over. But it’s in the ring.

The shrimp street taco, on the other hand, felt like your mom’s idea of taco night. Not bad, just a little uninspired. Generic tortilla, basic toppings, decent flavor. The shrimp saved it, but I wouldn’t order it again.

Now. The Shrimpy Footlong Dog.

This thing is chaos. A full footlong dog in a buttery roll, slathered in house sauces, and absolutely buried in shrimp. It’s messy. Unapologetic. Slightly revolting in the most lovable way. Like a chili dog wearing shrimp as a fur coat. Is it worth $17? Depends on your budget. But would I eat it again? Without hesitation.

One more thing worth shouting out: the pickles. House-made, sharp, vinegary, mean. The kind of pickle that punches you in the jaw and makes you say thank you. If they bottled them, I’d buy a jar.

This is a shrimp truck first, lobster truck second, and voodoo truck third.

The prices are up there. You’re not walking away with a $10 lunch. But the quality is high, the shrimp is unforgettable, and the portions are generous. You’ll sweat. You’ll spend. You’ll smile.

If shrimp is your religion, this truck is your roadside temple.