Carolina Blue Crabs: Steam, Smash, Suck
As soon as I arrived at my parents house for a late August visit, the neighbor called. She made me an offer I couldn't refuse: a dozen live crabs.
"That is so sweet of you!" I told Judy.
"No, it really isn't," she said. "I'm sick of crabs, and I knew you'd deal with them." For folks who live on the Lockwood Folly River, the gift of crabs is a gift to the giver. It's almost too easy to catch them, and as everyone knows, an easy catch is often undervalued.
Plus, crabs -- some say -- are a pain to deal with. They are more complex than a fish out of water, floundering on the dock. Crabs attack with aggression of an animal fighting for it's life. Which is only fair, really, and I say, "Good for you, assertive crab!"
I have mad respect for crabs.
The other thing that makes folks not love crabs is the yield. You don't get a lot of meat for the amount of effort you put in. But I'm a quality over quantity kinda girl, so that works just fine for me. Plus, picking crabs is low-cal eating; I can't possibly suck down more calories than I burn while searching for crab meat.
Within moments I was holding a bucket of a dozen writhing crabs. Now what? Occam had it right -- the very best way to cook crabs is the simplest. I put them in a pot with an inch or two of water and steamed until they turned bright red.
I took the just-steamed crabs down to the dock, pulled out a mallet and got myself something sturdy to bang against; my parents dock. It's a perfect cycle; from the water to the pot and back to the water again. Talk about your eco-friendly eating.
I pulled down the apron, tore off the top shell, and threw it in the river. I looked for the backfin meat and was far less successful than I was hammering away at the claws. And last, I sucked every last leglet free of it's meat. It's like those little pixy stix I enjoyed in second grade, but now I really had to suck that meat out instead of just tossing back my head for a sugar high.
Good stuff. And as it is said, the meat closest to the bone (or in this case, the shell) really is the sweetest. Steamed crabs are worth every suck.
"That is so sweet of you!" I told Judy.
"No, it really isn't," she said. "I'm sick of crabs, and I knew you'd deal with them." For folks who live on the Lockwood Folly River, the gift of crabs is a gift to the giver. It's almost too easy to catch them, and as everyone knows, an easy catch is often undervalued.
Plus, crabs -- some say -- are a pain to deal with. They are more complex than a fish out of water, floundering on the dock. Crabs attack with aggression of an animal fighting for it's life. Which is only fair, really, and I say, "Good for you, assertive crab!"
I have mad respect for crabs.
The other thing that makes folks not love crabs is the yield. You don't get a lot of meat for the amount of effort you put in. But I'm a quality over quantity kinda girl, so that works just fine for me. Plus, picking crabs is low-cal eating; I can't possibly suck down more calories than I burn while searching for crab meat.
Within moments I was holding a bucket of a dozen writhing crabs. Now what? Occam had it right -- the very best way to cook crabs is the simplest. I put them in a pot with an inch or two of water and steamed until they turned bright red.
I took the just-steamed crabs down to the dock, pulled out a mallet and got myself something sturdy to bang against; my parents dock. It's a perfect cycle; from the water to the pot and back to the water again. Talk about your eco-friendly eating.
I pulled down the apron, tore off the top shell, and threw it in the river. I looked for the backfin meat and was far less successful than I was hammering away at the claws. And last, I sucked every last leglet free of it's meat. It's like those little pixy stix I enjoyed in second grade, but now I really had to suck that meat out instead of just tossing back my head for a sugar high.
Good stuff. And as it is said, the meat closest to the bone (or in this case, the shell) really is the sweetest. Steamed crabs are worth every suck.
posted by Allison Fishman Task at 11:05 AM
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