Category: blue crabs

Collaborative Effort: Crabcake Egg Rolls With Spicy Pineapple Dipping Sauce

Crabcake egg rolls in collaboration with spicy pineapple dipping sauce. And yes, my crabcake recipe is the best one. #IYDKNYK

Collaboration is a funny thing. Everyone claims to want to do it, but in reality, the bare fact of working with another person to create something together is infinitely challenging. This applies to everything from creative work to child-rearing; it seems as if in collaboration, there is always the potential for someone to feel like they have not been heard, respected, or valued in a partnership.

KWeeks and I are trying to feel our way into creative collaboration. It makes sense that this is a step we would take. Even if our respective creative practices are quite different, many of our sensibilities align, and where they don’t it’s possible to find some fertile ground.

Our first “collaboration,” of sorts, was building a camping platform in New Brunswick, Canada – a bit of a struggle until we figured out that one person needed to be in charge each day. In the end, the final product is something we are both proud of, even if the road to it was sometimes rough.

And now we are feeling our way towards a new collaboration, a creative one, that is embryonic and still being negotiated and not even more than something ethereal. It feels good to think this way, in love and creative partnership with my person. I am most grounded when I have found a home in someone, and KWeeks feels like that.

The idea of “home” comes up frequently in our conversations. KWeeks isn’t exactly nomadic, but he has managed to move at specific times in his life in a way that prevented him from ever feeling too attached to one place.

I, on the other hand, spent the first 25 years of my life in Maryland. I camped every summer in Assateague and roamed the mountains in western Maryland for my formative years. I am attached to this region in a way that is cellular, and much of this is grounded in food of this region, particularly the beautiful swimmers – Maryland blue crab.

It has been two years since I have had crab, and those who know know that fall crab is the best, fatter than the lean crabs of spring and early summer. Years ago, right around this time, I did what was long overdue and created my own crabcake recipe in the form of Maryland Crabcakes With Green Papaya, Carrot, and Jicama Slaw With Pineapple Vinaigrette.

This past weekend, KWeeks and I had a brief sojourn at John Cage Memorial Park in Chance, Maryland, continuing to feel our way towards a potential collaborative project. We picked up two pounds of jumbo lump crab from a roadside stand called How Sweet It Is on the way home, and this recipe is a result of that sweet, delectable bounty from the Chesapeake.

Eating these crabcake egg rolls is a bit like coming home for me – sweet, fresh crab barely held together with minimal binding and just a hint of Old Bay, wrapped in a gluten-free rice wrapper and fried. The spicy sweetness of pineapple and chili complement the crab and the crispy wrapper.

Ultimately, the goal in this life (and the search for home in food, in people, and in place) seems best summed up in a quote from John cage himself:

“Our intention is to affirm this life, not to bring order out of chaos, nor to suggest improvements in creation, but simply to wake up to the very life we’re living, which is so excellent once one gets one’s mind and desires out of its way and lets it act of its own accord.”

Crabcake Egg Rolls With Spicy Pineapple Sauce

(makes 10 spring rolls)

Khristian – not a native Marylander but a smart man nonetheless – reminds me that your crabcakes are only as good as your crab. Make every effort to find local crab, caught in the Bay and picked on the Shore. You’ll be very glad you did.

Ingredients

2 teaspoon Old Bay

¼ cup chopped fresh parsley

1 tablespoon Dijon mustard

1 slice bread without crusts, torn into small bits (see Recipe Notes)

1 tablespoon mayonnaise

1 egg

1 pound jumbo lump crab

10 spring roll wrappers (rice)

½ cup fresh pineapple

½ cup chili garlic sauce (see Recipe Notes)

¼ cup water

Method

Start with the crabcake mixture. You can make this a day ahead if you like, but fresh is best.

Combine Old Bay, parsley, mustard, bread, mayonnaise, and egg in a large bowl. Stir well to combine.

Add crabmeat and mix with your hands very, very gently until the mixture is completely combined. Keep in ‘fridge until ready to make the spring rolls.

For the sauce, combine fresh pineapple, chili sauce, and water in a saucepan. Heat to a simmer, then pop in a blender and blend until smooth. Set aside.

There are multiple ways to fry these. If you have one of those countertop fryers, have at it, and follow the directions for that.

I used a wide, straight-sided saucepan and about two inches of oil. If you are following this method, use a splatter guard, and heat your oil to 350 degrees before you fry.

While your oil is heating, prepare the spring rolls.

FULL DISCLOSURE: My technique SUCKS. It’s ok, because I don’t do this very often (fried or unfried spring rolls), but the more you do it, the better your results will be. So practice by making lots and lots of these.

Grab a wide bowl of hot water. Place the spring roll wrapper in the hot water until it softens – probably not more than 30 seconds. Lay the wrapper on a flat surface, and spoon a generous two tablespoons of the crab just inside the edge closest to you. Roll away from yourself once, fold in the sides, then continue rolling. Tight spring rolls = less chance of bursting and more even browning.

Keep rolling until all the crab is used. Don’t let the spring rolls touch each other while they wait for the frying pan – they will stick and tear each other and then you’ll just have to eat crabcakes.

When your oil is ready, slip spring rolls into their bath, only as many as you can fry at once without them touching. Fry for about five to seven minutes total – until the outside is golden brown.

Remove to a plate covered with paper towels and allow to drain.

Serve HOT, with spicy pineapple sauce on the side.

Recipe Notes

Real Maryland crabcakes use white bread or saltines as a binder. I am a born-and-bred Marylander who happens to be gluten-free, so I used gluten-free bread, and it worked just fine.

You could definitely get high-tech and make your own chili garlic sauce. I chose to leave that to the professionals and used Huy Fong Chili Garlic Sauce, which is delicious and perfect.

Death Of Light: Green Tomatoes, Two Ways

Chow-chow, nearly done.

Things fall apart in the fall. It is the season of death and decay and the gradual fading of the light (fall back on Saturday, November 3rd. Take the country back Tuesday, November 6th).

It is also a time of powerful transformation and intention setting and a season of acceptance that comes after grief in the face of extraordinary change.

This is clearly reflected in nature. Leaves litter the sidewalks and the grass wears a morning tiara of sparkling frost that melts away with the rising sun.

In the garden, overgrown green turns spindly and the last vestiges of fruit struggle to hang on the vine. This is the last call for the summer garden – last call to bring in any kind of harvest before the sun barely crests the horizon and night falls before dinnertime.

Green tomatoes are a unique by-product of the scraggly fall garden. Tart and bright, they are everything you need when the light dims.

Here, two recipes: Green Tomato Chow-Chow and Roasted Green Tomato Soup. The former a staple in the south, the latter a bright ray of sunshine in a darkening fall kitchen. If these don’t do it for you, give last year’s ode to fall a whirl. You can’t go wrong with any of these.

Green Tomato Chow-Chow

Use this uniquely southern condiment on greens, black-eyed peas, pork chops, chicken, BBQ sandwiches, and in salad dressing (or stir it into the soup that follows). Add finely chopped white cabbage if you like. This recipe scales up easily and can be canned for winter time. This particular recipe makes one pint.

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups chopped green tomatoes

1 or 2 Thai chilis, diced

1/4 cup diced onion (about 1/4 a large-ish onion)

1/4 cup diced celery (1 stalk, give or take)

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon mustard seed

1/8 teaspoon turmeric

1/8 teaspoon nutmeg

5 or 6 black peppercorns

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 cup apple cider vinegar

1/2 cup drained tomato juice

Optional: 1/4 teaspoon fennel and/or coriander seed

Method

Dice the green tomatoes, Thai chili, onion, and celery. Place in a glass bowl and add salt. Stir, then cover with plastic wrap and let sit, at least four hours but preferably overnight.

Place a mesh sieve over a bowl and strain the vegetables, reserving the liquid. Pack vegetables in a pint jar. Measure spices and place on top of the vegetables.

Heat sugar, vinegar, and a 1/4 cup of the reserved tomato liquid in a heavy saucepan until sugar dissolves. Let cool slightly, then pour over vegetables. Let cool to room temperature on the counter, then refrigerate. Only gets better as it sits, but unless you preserve it, eat in a month or less.

Roasted Green Tomato Soup

This soup is quite accidental and made from the bits and bobs of my CSA, herbs grown on my porch, and stock made from vegetable peelings from the summer. This particular batch of stock featured corn cobs and fresh fennel, both delicate, subtle flavors that actually manage to lift the soup to a whole other level. Roasting the tomatoes and caramelizing the onions coax the last bit of summer’s sweetness from both. As with its red brethren, this soup goes well with a buttery, gooey grilled cheese.

Ingredients

2 pounds green tomatoes, cut into quarters for roasting

Olive oil

3 cloves garlic

1 medium onion, diced

1 tablespoon fresh thyme

3 cups vegetable stock

Salt and pepper to taste

2 cups arugula (ish)

Optional garnish: thinly sliced scallions

Method

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Toss green tomatoes and whole garlic cloves in olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Roast for 40 minutes.

In a large stockpot, heat another two tablespoons of olive oil. Add onion and cook on medium-low until caramelized (around 30 minutes, so start these when you put the tomatoes in the oven).

Add roasted tomatoes and garlic and stir to combine. Add fresh thyme, salt, and pepper and cook for two minutes. Add stock and arugula. Bring to a simmer and cook for 10 to 15 minutes.

Use an immersion blender (or regular blender) to puree the soup until smooth.

 

Fall Feasting: Crab Gnocchi With Arugula

Comfort.

It’s fall here now.

Two weeks ago week it was raining, turning the new-fallen leaves into slick mush on the sidewalks and making everyone who had been bitching about the heat grumpy about the rain. Last week the mercury topped 90, so the rain went away and people complained again about the heat.

Just today, the leaves have begun to unveil a reddish tint, and the weeks ahead look more like the calendar says it should.

Fall means sweaters and boots and jeans and dry weather and in Maryland, most of all, the best crab of the season. Crabs in September and October are fat and packed full. While many rush to crabs as soon as the temperature rises in May, I wait and am rewarded with the fattest, sweetest, and cheapest crabs of the season.

Stretch that crab with some pasta, but not any pasta: gnocchi.

I do not know what it is about gnocchi. It’s like pasta and potatoes had a light and fluffy baby that was fat-cheeked and so adorable it barely needed anything else to make it lovable.

But true confession time: Until this recipe, I had only tried gnocchi once.

It was at a restaurant in Little Italy in Baltimore, a place that shall remain nameless but based on reputation alone should have had someone’s nonna in the back making delicate little puffs of potato.

They certainly charged cash money like they flew Nonna over first class.

Turns out, their gnocchi was less than stellar. They were lukewarm and gummy, served in a quickly-cooling butter sauce with fairly tasteless Parmesan that may have seen the inside of a green can. It was not a good showing, and for years I ignored the presence of this dish in favor of anything else.

Turns out gnocchi is a great pasta dish for those avoiding gluten, and with some practice (see Recipe Notes), it is, indeed, that adorable baby it is supposed to be. Paired here with crab and a bit of arugula that has been gussied up with a light mustard dressing. It slightly resembles a coddie, that unique-to-Baltimore staple of cod and mashed potatoes, deep fried and served with yellow mustard. Delicious summer-into-fall meal when crabs are at their fattest and fall greens are starting to come in. Or fall-into-winter meal when you need something hearty to cheer you up against the waning light. Or really, any time you feel like something warm and comforting and slightly luxurious.

Crab Gnocchi With Arugula

(generously serves four)

Ingredients 

3 large baking potatoes (big’uns. Don’t skimp.)

2 large egg yolks, beaten

Salt

½ cup gluten-free all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting (regular AP works here, too, but see Recipe Notes)

1/8 teaspoon nutmeg

3 tablespoons butter

1/2 teaspoon fresh marjoram, roughly chopped

1 teaspoon fresh thyme, roughly chopped

1/2 pound crabmeat (jumbo lump or lump if you have cash money like that, or backfin if times are tight but not that tight)

Freshly ground black pepper

Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, grated

Greens dressing

2 tablespoons sherry vinegar

1 1/2 teaspoons Dijon mustard

2 teaspoons shallots, minced

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1/4 cup best-quality olive oil

1 pound arugula, washed

Method

Preheat oven to 400°. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and dust with flour.

Pierce the potatoes all over with a fork. Bake potatoes for about one hour, until tender.

Cut potatoes in half. Scoop the flesh into a potato ricer and rice them directly onto a clean countertop that has been lightly dusted with flour. Drizzle beaten eggs and one teaspoon of salt over the potatoes. Using two bench scrapers, one in each hand, work the egg yolk and salt through the potatoes with a light sweeping motion. Mix flour and nutmeg and over dough and use bench scrapers until dough begins to come together. Use your hands to knead the dough gently until smooth but slightly sticky.

Cut the dough into four pieces, rolling each into a ¾” thick rope. Cut the ropes into ¾” pieces. Leave them as they are, or, more traditionally, roll each piece across the tines of a fork to make ridges. Place gnocchi on the baking sheet.

When you are ready to eat, bring a large pot of salted water to a simmer. Working with a dozen or so at a time, drop the gnocchi into the water and cook until they float to the surface. Continue to cook for one to two minutes more.

In another large sauté pan, melt the butter. Use a slotted spoon or spider to remove gnocchi from simmering water and add it to the butter. Brown slightly then add fresh crabmeat to the pan to warm. Add fresh marjoram and thyme and cook for one minute.

Season with salt and pepper and cook over medium heat for one minute. Sprinkle with grated Parmigiano-Reggiano, if desired, or maybe a little Old Bay if you’re feeling hyperlocal.

Place all dressing ingredients in a small bowl and use a whisk to combine. Pour over greens and toss or serve on the side. Do not overdress greens.

Recipe Notes

  • Gnocchi takes longer than it seems like it should; it can be challenging to roll the ropes without them coming apart. The good news is that this recipe easily doubles and freezes well. You can spend a couple of hours making gnocchi and then pull them out of the freezer when you want. Uncooked gnocchi can be frozen for up to a month (first flat on a sheet pan and then in a resealable freezer bag). Cook in plenty of water, dropping them in just a few at a time. without defrosting. FULL DISCLOSURE: when I cooked them from frozen I did not follow the directions. I dumped them all in together and they became a big mushy mass. I drained them anyway, fried them in butter, and added fresh thyme and parmesan and we feasted royally.
  • As I developed this, I worked the gnocchi more than it seemed I should. If I had used regular gluten-filled all-purpose flour, these would have been gummy and awful. If you are not GF, I highly recommend borrowing some from a friend who is.
  • Using no crab is better than using crab from Indonesia. JM Clayton is my staple crab. Worth every single penny.
  • Also, a wealth of information on marjoram and its cousin, oregano, is available from the Herb Society of America. I found marjoram to be uncommon and was curious. I enjoyed the fact that marjoram is the herb of love, protection, and healing. Seems we could all use that these days. <3

 

On Words, Love, And The (Im)Perfect Crabcake

(Im)perfectly delicious, hon.
(Im)perfectly delicious, hon.

So I have been avoiding words. Words like these ones right here.

And yes, I am aware that I just used the phrase “these ones.” #IBlameTheSouth

I don’t know what it is about words. I find them alternately an abiding comfort and a deep frustration. I have hurled them as invective, used them like a lover’s caress, and felt them/rolled them around in my mouth, through my heart, and on the page.

But sometimes of late words have [quite literally] failed me. I have said the wrong thing at the wrong time in the wrong way.

I have received hurtful words from someone I love, most recently unintentionally (but intentionally in the past).

Sidebar: They both feel bad.

It’s enough to make me clam up altogether, which I am getting especially good at. Seems easier to say nothing than to say something I don’t mean or that will leave a lasting wound.

And then a few weeks ago I ran across this from Thich Nhat Hanh, the Fourth Mindfulness Training Guide:

“I am committed to speaking truthfully using words that inspire confidence, joy, and hope. When anger is manifesting in me, I am determined not to speak. I will practice mindful breathing and walking in order to recognize and to look deeply into my anger. I know that the roots of anger can be found in my wrong perceptions and lack of understanding of the suffering in myself and in the other person. I will speak and listen in a way that can help myself and the other person to transform suffering and see the way out of difficult situations.”

The idea is to monitor yourself and your words so that they are not harmful or rooted in anger or misunderstanding that will make things worse.

In short, “Seek first to understand, then be understood.”

Excellent idea.

Except we are all of us only human beings, yes? And as I like to [gratefully] acknowledge, this is a practice, not a perfect. I am still at the grasshopper stage, keeping my mouth shut and walking away.

But this is patently unhelpful in some situations where silence would only serve to deepen the rift or misunderstanding or hurt others, especially those who have had silence wielded like a sword in their past.

Which brings me to my recent connection of wabi-sabi as it pertains to humans. My particular friend lent me a book recently called Wabi-Sabi For Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers. Wabi-sabi is the Japanese philosophy/practice/way of life focused on accepting and celebrating the beauty of impermanence and imperfection in everything. That’s a thumbnail, but it gets to the root in a nutshell.

Richard Powell sums it up as this:

“Wabi-sabi nurtures all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect.”

Certainly true for the wabi-sabi qualities in humans, human communication, and human relationships.

The trick here is to determine if you are willing to do the work anyway, to acknowledge the impermanence and imperfection and love (accept) all of that anyway.

According to Wabi-Sabi for Artists,

“The simplicity of wabi-sabi is probably described as the state of grace arrived at by a sober, modest, heartfelt intelligence.”

This is a far cry from the passionate, loud, and impulsive words being hurled around of late, in my house and in the rest of the world. Wabi-sabi requires more contemplation and reflection and acceptance, but the last is hard to come by. It seems that acceptance is the thing that allows the words or the art or the love to flow.

I have lost many words of late. I don’t know if that’s a reflection of my lack of acceptance, but it is certainly highlighting my imperfection. Wabi-sabi is the fine line between something starting and ending, that moment when there is a shift. Maybe that’s what is happening.

So what’s with the crabcakes? How is this wabi-sabi?

Well, to start, crabs don’t give a fuck about decay and imperfection; they are one of the few bottom feeders that I will actually eat, mopping up whatever’s rotten on the bottom of the Bay.

They accept whatever is lowered into the depths at the end of a piece of cotton twine. Throw a ripe chicken neck off a dock and you will invariably hoist a few crabs from the murky depths.

In this pairing, they are also a continuation of experimentation in my kitchen, which is a good thing, and they represent a foundational element in my life. I grew up in Maryland, crabbing off the docks at Assateague as a child and picking crabs in someone’s backyard at least once a summer every year. When I am feeling at loose ends, it is a great comfort to me to come back to these touchstones in my life when I can reliably remember feeling at peace and without struggle.

So along with these words, here is some food for you.

Maryland Crabcakes With Green Papaya, Carrot, and Jicama Slaw

With Pineapple Vinaigrette

Ingredients

Crabcake

2 tsp. Old Bay

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

1 T Dijon mustard

2 slices bread without crusts, torn into bits

1 T mayonnaise

1 egg

Optional: 1/2 tsp Worchestershire (I am not convinced, but many would say this is essential.)

1 pound jumbo lump crab

Green Papaya, Jicama, and Carrot Slaw

1/2 cup green papaya, shredded

1/2 cup  jicama, shredded

1/4 cup carrots, shredded

1 large jalapeno,  finely sliced (keep some seeds for heat)

a handful of fresh pineapple, julienned

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

juice of one lime

1 oz.  pineapple vinegar (recipe below)

2 oz.  vegetable oil (or other light oil)

1/4 tsp. ground cumin

small garlic clove, finely minced

1/2 tsp. celery seed

salt and pepper to taste

Method:

Crabcakes

Combine Old Bay, parsley, mustard, bread, mayonnaise, egg, and Worchestershire (if using) in a large bowl. Stir well to combine.

Add crabmeat and mix with your hands very, very gently. You want the crab to stay in big, fat, delicious chunks, barely held together.

Form into something resembling a cross between a meatball and a patty. For ease, I greased ramekins and packed the meat in there. Place in ‘fridge for 30 minutes while you make the slaw.

Heat a generous amount of butter (couple tablespoons) in a heavy frying pan. Place crabcakes gently in pan and fry until they have a nice crust and are warmed all the way through (about four minutes to a side.

Move to paper towels until serving.

Slaw

Combine the first six ingredients (green papaya, jicama, carrot, jalapeno, pineapple, parsley) in a medium bowl and squeeze the juice of one lime to coat the veg. In a small bowl, whisk together the last five ingredients (vinegar, oil, cumin, garlic, celery). Pour over vegetables and herbs, then season with salt and pepper.

Pineapple vinegar

In a saucepan, combine 8 oz. white vinegar, 8 oz. of fresh pineapple, and 1 tsp. of sugar. Bring to a rolling boil, mashing the pineapple a bit as it boils. Remove from heat and let cool, then strain to remove solids and place in ‘fridge.

Recipe notes

  • I used GF bread, but white bread is traditional, or Saltine crackers. If using Saltines, use about eight crackers.
  • JM Clayton crabmeat is the way to go if you are buying it. If you aren’t going to pick it yourself, don’t fuck around with crappy crabmeat in a can. This is an expensive recipe, to be sure, so save your money if you need to, but do it right. Or, do what I did and eat rice for a week for dinner so you can afford to test the recipe. #LifesFullOfTradeOffs
  • Fresh peaches make delicious vinegar as well. Swap the white vinegar for white balsamic and sub peeled, chopped peaches for the pineapple and proceed as above. Much more delicate flavor.
  • Turns out, I hate cabbage and cabbage hates me, so that’s why none is present. If cabbage loves you and vice versa feel free to add it in.
  • If you cannot find green papaya at your local Asian grocery store, feel free to use cabbage instead. It will change the flavors a bit, but using a lighter-flavored cabbage like Napa cabbage should keep things balanced.

Local Ingredients: Maryland Blue Crab

Image source


It seems fitting that the first local ingredient featured on this blog is the “beautiful savory swimmer,” callinectes sapidus. Common name: the Maryland blue crab.

Some of my fondest memories are of summer backyards filled with brown-paper covered tables, mallets and claw crackers or heavy knives at the ready, bright red crabs covered in Old Bay piled in the center of the table. A grill warming up for burgers and hot dogs. Cold beer, sometimes a pool, and family and friends sitting down to hours of intensive labor for a few piles of sweet, delicious crabmeat. 

My uncle Ben (for real) used to pick crabs for hours without eating them, amassing an enviable pile of sweetly spicy crabmeat that he would eat with a fork at the end of the day as we all looked on. My dad once stole a forkful of that pile, and fisticuffs were definitely imminent. Only the presence of children prevented that, I believe.

I, myself, was a crabber in my youth. A length of string and a chicken neck, the older the better, tied to a dock and soaked for just a little bit, could make anyone a crabber. I spent many happy hours, sitting on a dock of the Bay (for real), patiently pulling up the string, hand over hand, looking for the moving shadow that meant a blue crab had hitched a ride.

Blue crabs range from Nova Scotia to Argentina in the western Atlantic Ocean, hibernating in the colder months in the muddy bed of the Atlantic. Jimmies, male crabs, are easily identified by their Washington Monument-shaped apron, the flap on their bellies, while sooks, the females, have a wider apron.

It’s a boy!

Identifying males and females is important for the protection of the species. While sooks are sold for eating, jimmies tend to be larger, meatier, and more delicious.

 
I may have lied just then. I eat the boys only because the girls make more crabs. Boys are necessary in the process, which includes a jimmy gently cradling a molting female until she completes her molt, impregnating her, then cradling her again as her shell hardens before he swims off in search of another girlfriend, but let’s face it: one boy can make a lot of baby crabs. 
A mama, also called a “sponge crab.” That orange “sponge” is unhatched babies.

In 2014, the commercial blue crab harvest was 35 million pounds, an amount considered “sustainable” by the Chesapeake Bay Stock Assessment Committee. Even though this is considered a safe amount of crab to harvest (with smaller crab fishermen and weekend warriors only bringing in a negligible amount), the blue crab is highly susceptible to pollutants and chemicals in their habitat. 


They are bottom-dwellers, bottom-feeders, corpse pickers: they like dead, rotting stuff for dinner, and they don’t really care what killed it. They remind me of a former bad boss, plus a few people I used to know. 
 
In short, they are nothing like what I normally eat, but SO DELICIOUS. 
 
It is important to note that while 50% of the country’s blue crabs come from the Chesapeake Bay, not all blue crab on offer is from Maryland. Cheaper crab can be had from Asian waters, and many restaurants will substitute that for more expensive crab from Maryland. And others who don’t know any better may prefer the lazy man’s crabs (Dungeness and Alaskan King) over the hard-won rewards of a Maryland blue crab’s labrynthian interior. 
 
But why mess with perfection?
 
The hibernation period of the blue crab (roughly from November to March) allows it to build up its fat stores, which results in a delicate, buttery flavor, unmatched by its larger crustacean cousins. Save those for things like quiche and crabcakes. 
 
The most authentic way to enjoy a Maryland blue crab is straight from the pot with a Natty Boh.
 
Purchasing notes: fresh crabs are best purchased right off the dock. Look for jimmies that are 6″ or larger from point to point. Don’t waste your time with smaller crab or sooks.
 
Cooking them is easy, and although some people fuss with fancy gadgets and the like, all you really need is a big pot with a lid, a Natty Boh, vinegar, Old Bay, and some aluminum foil. Thusly:
 
1. Use the aluminum foil to create a rope-like structure that you will curl and place at the bottom of the pot. You can buy a pot with a rack for this purpose, but unless you will also use the pot for canning, aluminum foil works just fine. You are steaming the crabs, not boiling them, and the aluminum foil curl lets them rest just above the liquid.
 
2. Crack open a Natty Boh (or a Pabst Blue Ribbon. No hipster, quadruple-hopped bullshit here) and pour it and an equivalent amount of water (or just below the aluminum coil). Add a splash of vinegar (white or cider), and bring to a boil. 
 
3. Add crabs. Add a layer of crab, sprinkle liberally with Old Bay, layer of crab, Old Bay, layer of crab, etc. 
 
Side note: You could use something other than Old Bay, but A) then you would be a moron, and B) that would be a ridiculous thing to do. So stick with Old Bay.
 
4. Place lid on the pot, then crack a beer for yourself and wait. Crabs are done when they are bright red, about ten or 15 minutes, or the time it takes for you to drink your beer. Which since Natty Boh is like barley flavored water, is about ten or 15 minutes.
 
Once they are done, what the hell do you do with them?
 
Maryland State Senator John Astle, a West Virginia native, knows how it’s done. 
Side note: the “inside stuff” is also known as “mustard.” Some locals eat the mustard, but I am not even remotely interested in this. Some people believe it is fat, but it is actually the crab’s hepatopancreas which filters impurities from the crab’s blood. So you would then be eating the impurities. #HardPass
 
Some people dip the crab in apple cider vinegar.

Some ignorant people ask for butter. #Unnecessary #WeAreOutOfButter

This year I cracked crabs on the front porch of Redwing Farm in Sinks Grove, WV. My uncle Steve and I drove down to the water that morning to pick up a half bushel, covered them with ice in a cooler (drain open; crabs will drown in fresh water), and eight hours later pulled them out of the pot to eat as the sun set over the ridge. 
 
It’s not too late to enjoy these beautiful swimmers, even if you don’t want to cook them yourself. As summer winds down and we look forward to the autumnal equinox, small boats are still out on the Bay, fishing for crab. The end of summer is the best time for crab; prices are down, sizes are up, and traffic on crab decks is light. 
 
Maryland blue crab is a true local ingredient and my penultimate summer food; what’s yours?